The first sound he heard was not words.
It was a pulse.
Rhythmic, heavy, and steady. It did not come from outside, but from within—something that had now become the center of his existence. Astrael did not understand its meaning, yet he felt it clearly. The pulse did not demand attention. It simply existed, supporting everything else.
Awareness returned slowly, far heavier than before. Not expansive. Not free. It was bound.
Bound to something warm.
Cramped.
Wet.
Astrael did not panic. He merely realized that he was no longer drifting. There was pressure around him, restraining, confining, yet not painful. He could not move freely, and that felt… natural.
Another sensation followed.
Sound.
Muffled, unclear, distorted by layers in between. Gentle vibrations, sometimes rising, sometimes falling. He did not understand the language, but he sensed the emotions behind it.
Warmth. Anxiety. Hope.
His awareness was incomplete, but not blurred. His memories were present, yet not intrusive. He did not try to think deeply. He simply existed.
Then, the pressure changed.
Force came from outside, compressing the narrow space even further. The pulse within him intensified. Something pushed him forward, slowly but inevitably.
For the first time, Astrael felt something akin to breathing.
Cold air touched his surface—harsh, unfamiliar, shocking. Reflex acted before thought. Newly formed lungs expanded, then contracted.
A cry broke out.
The sound was not intentional. Not a choice. It was the pure reaction of a body that had just entered the world.
Light seeped through tightly closed eyelids. Too bright. Too much. Sensations came in waves, unclassified, unfiltered.
Astrael was born.
Hands touched him. Warm. Careful. Voices became clearer, though still incomprehensible. He felt himself wrapped, lifted, moved.
And then—calm.
He was held.
A larger, warmer body embraced him with movements that were clumsy yet filled with care. Another heartbeat sounded, faster, more restless.
Yet that was not what stood out the most.
There was a subtle flow brushing against his awareness.
Not physical touch. Not emotion. But something more fundamental—energy that moved through the air, the ground, and the living beings around him.
This world… was different.
That energy was not wild. Not threatening. It simply existed, enveloping everything like an invisible layer. Astrael had no word for it yet, but his soul recognized it.
He remained calm.
Days passed without his awareness fully registering them. Time moved, but his consciousness surfaced only occasionally, like light breaking through clouds. He slept. Awoke. Cried. Settled again.
Yet every time he became aware, one thing remained consistent.
He was whole.
No part of him was erased. His former memories did not dominate, yet they did not disappear. He was not burdened by an adult consciousness trapped in an infant's body. Everything rested in a strange yet stable balance.
His surroundings gradually became clearer.
A simple room, made of wood and stone. The scent of earth and dried plants. The sound of wind slipping through gaps in the walls. An unfamiliar language, soft in intonation yet firm.
A small village.
There were no signs of grandeur. No magic on display. No monsters roaring in the distance. Just human life moving at a slow pace.
Astrael did not know exactly where he was.
But he knew one thing.
This place did not reject him.
As he grew, the world began to reveal its subtle layers. Light that moved strangely in the air at dusk. Warmth lingering in the palms of certain people. Faint vibrations in the ground when rain fell.
No one explained it to him. And he did not demand explanations.
He accepted.
Night after night, Astrael often lay awake in silence. Not from hunger or fear, but because his awareness was slowly strengthening. He listened to the breathing of those around him. Felt the world moving without his involvement.
He did not feel the need to become anything.
He simply lived.
And within that calm, an understanding grew slowly, without force.
This world did not ask him to save anything.
It did not demand that he become a hero. It did not burden him with a grand destiny from birth. He was merely one small life among many others.
And precisely because of that—
He chose to live within it.
Out there, this world would one day reveal other faces. Conflict. Violence. Wonders. Power that could destroy and protect in equal measure.
But none of that belonged to him yet.
For now, Astrael closed his eyes, listened to the soothing pulse, and allowed the new world to accept him completely.
The prologue ended.
Not with a promise of glory.
But with a life that began in quiet acceptance.