"Myr'thal'uun."
A whisper older than kingdoms. It was a spell almost no one alive could pronounce, let alone cast—a reincarnation rite, rare, forbidden, and nearly impossible to master.
Cold bit into his skin the moment his soul anchored itself.
"Cold… so cold…" he murmured.
His eyes opened. Grey. Sharp. Ancient. Eyes that had watched civilizations rise and fall now stared up at a sky drowning in falling snow. He lay on frost-covered moss, a newborn body barely able to move, tiny limbs stiff from the freezing air. There was no cradle, no parents—only the endless winter forest, silent and merciless.
Yet his expression remained calm, as if this rebirth were nothing more than a scheduled appointment. His memories were intact. His knowledge was untouched. His magic hummed beneath his skin like a living thing. He had reincarnated exactly as intended.
Snowflakes drifted onto his small frame, melting against the faint warmth of lingering magic. In the frozen quiet, he took a small, shaky breath that fogged in the air. Then, with lips barely formed and a tongue that should not have been able to shape the sound, he whispered:
"Ulvra'thuun…"
The magic vibrated through his tiny bones. Warmth spread through his limbs, threading through nerves that had never been used. Muscles tightened; fingers curled; toes flexed. Control returned.
His grey eyes blinked, unshaken. He lifted a hand to confirm the spell had taken hold. The forest remained unaware that a newborn had just cast a spell no adult mage could comprehend.
He had time. He had knowledge. He had purpose.
With Ulvra'thuun flowing through him, Eiden rolled onto his stomach, pushed himself up, and stood on unsteady but determined feet. He brushed snow, dirt, and dead leaves from his skin and began to walk.
Minutes blurred into hours as he trudged through the freezing woods until he found a cave. Inside lay a black dragon—the third deadliest beast in existence, a creature capable of summoning rifts across dimensions and swallowing spells as nourishment.
Eiden stood his ground.
"Now… how will I get rid of you?" he muttered, barely audible.
The dragon's bright green eyes snapped open. Its head lifted, massive and imposing.
"My, a little snack. You look very tasty, elf," it rumbled.
Eiden didn't flinch. He didn't panic or even look impressed. First, a frozen forest. Now, a dragon. Annoying.
"Like all black dragons, you can transform into a humanoid body," he said calmly. "So you must have some humanity in you… do you not?"
The dragon's eyes widened. A baby, walking and speaking with the voice of a grown man? Then it felt it—the mana. Overwhelming. Suffocating.
Cracks spread across the dragon's scales as its body began to shift. Moments later, the transformation finished. The dragon now stood in a nude humanoid form—tall, muscular, with short black hair and obsidian skin. His green eyes glowed in the dim light.
Without a word, he turned and vanished into the darkness. A warm glow flickered to life as he emerged again, now dressed in an immaculate all-white dress suit and polished white shoes, carrying a lantern that cast golden light against the stone.
"Elf," the dragon said, his voice steady. "May I ask your name?"
Eiden stayed silent for a heartbeat. I could kill him with a single spell if I wanted… but he does not seem hostile.
"My name is Eiden," he replied. "And you are?"
"Bengie."
"Come inside," Bengie said. "I will offer you clothes. I likely only have a cloak that will fit you, but it is better than nothing. Follow me."
As they walked, Eiden caught up easily, staring up with eyes far too knowing for a newborn.
"You are wondering why a baby like me can walk and speak," he said.
"Yes," Bengie admitted. "But also something else. I find it strange that—"
"That you can see the mana radiating off my body?" Eiden finished for him.
Bengie glanced down, quiet and rattled. They reached a smooth stone wall.
"I bet you think this is the end of the cave," Bengie tested.
"No," Eiden replied instantly. "Behind this wall is a large room. A bedroom. A kitchen. A dining table. A massive bed. Paintings along the walls. And several other things."
Bengie placed his palm on the stone. The wall split like massive doors, revealing exactly what Eiden had described. Eiden walked in first, scanning the room before his eyes landed on a black and gold couch. He padded over on soft feet and hopped onto it.
"This is a nice couch," he said, examining the stitching.
Bengie stepped inside and pressed his palm to a crystal embedded in the wall, channeling mana to seal the doors. When he turned back, the couch was empty. Eiden was floating several feet off the ground near a towering bookshelf, pulling grimoires from the shelves with casual ease.
Bengie walked to a dresser and pulled out a black cloak. He stopped a few meters away, wanting to test the child.
"Eiden."
Eiden turned his head. "Yes?"
Bengie tossed the cloak. As expected, the fabric shot through the air like a living creature and wrapped itself around Eiden's small frame.
"It is warm," Eiden said simply.
He descended to the floor, holding a grimoire, while seven more floated behind him like loyal attendants. He sat back on the couch.
"Do you need help learning that spell?" Bengie asked. "It is called Feezmap. A powerful spell, it summons fifty lightning strikes—"
"I have already learned it," Eiden interrupted. "I just wanted something to read."
Bengie froze. He had seen this behavior before.
"Are… are you a reincarnated vessel?"
"I am," Eiden replied. "I fought a battle and died. I killed my enemy, but I was weakened. I knew from the beginning that death was possible… but I thought I could avoid it. I was wrong. I was exactly sixteen thousand seven hundred thirteen years old when I died. I used a reincarnation spell at the brink of death. And now I wake up in a cold forest, covered in snow… and here I am."
"Sixteen thousand seven hundred thirteen years…" Bengie murmured. "So you existed before prehistoric times."
"Yes," Eiden said. "Before kingdoms. Before magic was used for war. Before races turned on each other."
"Oh, what year is it?" Eiden asked suddenly.
Bengie glanced at a calendar. "Tuesday, August sixth, year zero thirty-four."
"So I have been asleep for nineteen years. I need your help. I need shelter." Eiden turned his head toward a drawer near the bed. "You are a noble. You own a castle."
Bengie raised an eyebrow. "How did you—?"
"I saw the key in your locked drawer," Eiden said. "A golden crest. Only nobles or royalty have crests on their keys."
Bengie stared at him. "You are technically around sixteen thousand seven hundred thirty-two years old now. It is obvious you were a talented mage."
"'Talented' is nowhere near what I was," Eiden said calmly. "I was more powerful than Uzak'me, the god."
Bengie's eyes widened. Uzak'me the Celestial, the God of Dominion, who died nineteen years ago in a battle against Eiden the First Divinity.
"Are you… perhaps… Eiden, the First Divinity?" Bengie asked, his voice trembling.
Eiden's expression shifted. The calm neutrality vanished. His gaze narrowed, half-lit and predatory, a quiet ancient bloodlust flickering beneath the surface.
"Yes. I am Eiden… the First Divinity."
Bengie exhaled shakily. "Your body was found by the Redcrest Clan. They have it perfectly preserved in a glass dome. But the Redcrest Clan only cares about power. Did you… know someone there personally?"
Eiden's eyes drifted downward. "Thousands of years ago, I helped their clan leader and the Golden Throne fight the Angel King. I was the only one who could face him directly." His tone darkened. "I warned him. If he ever threatened peaceful nations again, I would use Shwall on him and watch him choke on his own blood."
Bengie stiffened. Shwall, the curse of eternal paralysis and agony. He reached under his mattress and pulled out a golden crested key.
"I have a castle in the Nipolla Kingdom. Well guarded. Hidden. I can offer you shelter and help you reclaim your body. But… I need something from you. I need you to deal with Iris, the Bloodmage. She is killing the beasts in my forest."
Eiden blinked. A Great Sage. A friend. A monster in her own right.
"I see. Very well. You help me get shelter and retrieve my body, and I will deal with Iris."
Relief washed over Bengie's face. "Deal. Now, come. I will have a tailor make you proper clothes. But you might want to make your voice sound like a baby's. You are in a newborn body with the voice of a man in his thirties."
They stepped into the cave corridor. Eiden sprinted on tiny feet to catch up.
"I do not want to," Eiden muttered, "but it is necessary. I cannot have the remaining ten Celestials learn that I reincarnated. Carry me. It lowers suspicion. Newborns are not supposed to speak anyway."
Bengie lifted Eiden by the waist, holding him securely. They stepped out into the freezing air. Black scales rippled across Bengie's back as massive wings tore outward. He flapped once, twice, and they shot into the sky.
Hours passed. As the sun set, they descended toward the Nipolla Kingdom.
Inside the grand hall of the castle, Bengie set Eiden on his feet. The butlers stared in shock as the newborn stood perfectly balanced. Bengie raised his voice to the assembled staff.
"Everyone of you was born over ten thousand years ago. You all know Eiden the First Divinity. This baby is Eiden. Yes, that Eiden. Treat him with respect. And keep this secret. If anyone asks, he is my adoptive son. Understood?"
Acceptance rippled through the room. Gerold, the head butler, knelt.
"It is an honor, Eiden. We will prepare a suit for you. Sir Bengie, shall I take him to the Grand Bedroom—"
"No," Eiden said. "I prefer the library."
Shelves towered to the ceiling. Bengie dismissed the staff and looked down at Eiden, who was staring at the books with quiet awe.
"Eiden," Bengie said softly. "You are one of the few Great Sages I admire. I will help you find your body. I promise."
Eiden looked up at him. "Hmph. I do not know what to say. Thank you… for helping me this far."
Bengie smirked, placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "I do not plan on helping you with just this. I plan on helping you with a new beginning."