Darkness.
That's the first thing I remember after dying—an all-encompassing, velvety darkness that stretched out in every direction. I wasn't cold or afraid; in fact, a strange calm settled over me. I floated (or perhaps stood?) on what felt like solid nothingness, weightless and unmoored. So this is it, I thought. This is death. I was 29—too young by most standards—yet here I was, consciousness lingering in the void. A small part of me raged at the unfairness of it, but a surprising relief washed over me too. The constant weight I'd carried in life—fears, regrets, pains—was gone.
As I tried to gather my thoughts, a pinpoint of light flickered to life in the distance. It grew rapidly, approaching me. I squinted at the brilliance as it expanded, like a star being born in fast-forward. The light coalesced into a shape, and suddenly, the darkness around me was no longer empty. Countless stars ignited in a vast panorama, illuminating what looked like the very fabric of the cosmos. In front of me, where the light had been, a figure now sat upon a throne.
I blinked, hardly believing my eyes. The throne was not made of any earthly material, but of the night sky itself—a seat woven from swirling constellations and cosmic nebulae. Beneath it, a great swirling black hole churned silently, its edges bending starlight into an ethereal halo. And on that majestic throne sat a woman, or something akin to a woman.
She was breathtaking. Magi, as I would soon come to know her, appeared with glowing light brown skin that emanated a soft radiance. Long, flowing black hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, shimmering as if threaded with stardust. Her eyes were a bright, piercing gold, like twin suns that somehow felt gentle instead of harsh. She wore elegant robes of deep blue trimmed with gold, the fabric seeming to ripple with moving constellations, mirroring the throne of stars beneath her. In one hand she held a tall wooden staff, topped with a crystal that pulsed with its own inner light. The entire scene was otherworldly, yet instead of feeling fear, I felt a profound sense of awe and peace.
"Welcome, dear soul," the woman spoke. Her voice was serene and melodic, carrying a timeless quality. It rang softly in the cosmic space, yet I sensed it within me more than heard it with ears I wasn't even sure I still had.
I realized I did have a form of some sort—I looked down at myself and saw a faint, translucent outline of a body, my body as I remembered it. I was dressed in the same clothes I'd died in (a bittersweet detail I chose not to dwell on). My hands trembled slightly, not out of fear, but from the overwhelming presence of the being before me. I steadied myself and inclined my head respectfully. Somehow, kneeling or prostrating myself felt appropriate in the presence of such majesty.
"Wh-where am I?" I managed to ask, my voice echoing softly. "And who are you?"
The woman tilted her head ever so slightly, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips. "You are in the space between life and the beyond," she answered gently. "As for me..." She paused, as if considering how to explain.
Then I heard something—a sound, a name, ring inside my mind. It was as though a chorus of distant galaxies sang a single word in unison. The sheer power and complexity of it made my head swim, and I couldn't comprehend it at all. My knees buckled under the pressure of that Name, and I might have fallen into the void had an unseen force not held me upright.
The woman—the goddess—noticed my distress and waved a hand gracefully. The incomprehensible sound receded, leaving a gentle hum in its wake. "My true name is beyond mortal tongues and understanding," she said kindly. "Your soul lacks the authority to perceive it fully. You may call me Magi."
"Magi," I repeated, the word coming naturally, as if I'd known it all along. A goddess of magic, perhaps? The way the very stars seemed to bend to her will suggested as much. I swallowed and met her golden eyes, trying my best to show respect. "It's an honor to meet you... Lady Magi."
Magi's eyes softened. "Likewise, Jasen Smith," she replied softly. Hearing my name on her lips sent a jolt through me. It shouldn't have surprised me that she knew my name—omniscient goddess and all—but it made this all the more real. This wasn't a dream or hallucination; this luminous being truly knew who I was.
I took a slow breath, steadying myself. "Am I... dead?" I asked quietly, though I suspected the answer.
Her expression grew sympathetic, and she inclined her head in a slight nod. "Yes, child. You have left the mortal world you knew."
I felt my chest tighten with emotion. There it was, confirmed. A part of me had clung to hope that maybe this was some bizarre coma-dream or near-death experience. But no—I had died. I tried to recall the moments before I ended up here. It was hazy. "I... I remember going to bed last night after a long day," I murmured, frowning as I dug through memories. There was no accident, no violence; just an ordinary evening that somehow turned into an eternal night. "Then nothing. Just this darkness and now..." I gestured around at the cosmic tableau. "You."
Magi observed me calmly. "Your death was sudden and without pain," she offered gently. "Sometimes, the flame of life extinguishes quietly. The details matter little now."
Sudden and without pain. Mysterious, indeed—like a candle blown out in sleep. Perhaps it had been an undetected aneurysm or my heart simply stopping while I slumbered. There was a strange relief in knowing it wasn't some horror or drawn-out suffering. I nodded slowly. "Thank you... for telling me."
For a long moment, I was silent, absorbing the truth of my situation. Emotions swirled within me: regret, sorrow, but also oddly, relief. I thought of the life I'd left behind. Twenty-nine years felt far too short. I had so many plans unfulfilled, so many dreams deferred because I always assumed there would be a tomorrow. A pang of regret hit me—my parents would be devastated, my friends shocked. I hadn't even said goodbye.
Yet, at the same time, I felt an unexpected lightness. The anxieties that had plagued me—pressures of work, the chronic back pain from long hours at a desk, the loneliness I often felt in crowds—all of it had evaporated. The weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying had been lifted from my soul. In this place beyond life, there was no pain, no fear of the future. It was liberating in a way that made me feel guilty for finding comfort in it.
"I... I wish I had accomplished more," I confessed softly, my voice trembling. "Twenty-nine years... I barely got to live. There were things I wanted to do, people I wanted to help... Maybe even people I should have spent more time with." My throat tightened as I thought about the phone calls to family I'd been putting off, the novel I never finished, the apologies I never made. "I regret that it ended so soon."
Magi listened in compassionate silence, her face serene but her golden eyes full of understanding. She did not interrupt or chastise; she simply let me pour my heart out.
"But," I continued, managing a small, rueful smile, "in a way, I feel... free. All the pressure I was under, all the worries—it's like they're gone now. I don't have to struggle or hurt anymore." I paused, then quickly added, "Not that I wanted to die. I just—"
She raised a hand gently, and I fell quiet. "I understand, Jasen," she said in that soothing, melodic tone. "Life can be heavy. And yours weighed on you more than most." Her words resonated through me, gentle and undeniable. "Yet, many who pass on with regrets do not get the opportunity you have now."
I looked up at her, heart thumping with sudden hope. "Opportunity?" I echoed.
A faint smile touched Magi's lips. She rose gracefully from her throne of stars. Though she appeared slender and almost delicate, there was an immense power in the way she moved—like a single step could send ripples through the fabric of reality. She descended the few steps of her cosmic throne and came closer, until she stood only a few feet from me. I could see faint patterns of light glimmering across her skin, and tiny motes of energy danced around her like fireflies.
"You have been granted a rare chance, child," Magi explained. "Call it a gift, a twist of fate, or perhaps the natural weave of magic that ties the universe together. Your soul caught my attention."
"Your... attention?" I repeated, astonished. It was hard to imagine someone like her taking notice of someone as ordinary as me.
She nodded, then reached out and placed a hand under my chin, gently lifting my gaze from where I had unconsciously lowered it. Her touch was warm, sending a subtle current of energy through me. "Do not doubt your worth. Even the most humble soul can shine brightly given the chance." She let her hand fall back to her side. "I am Magi, Goddess of Magic, and overseer of countless worlds and realities. Occasionally, I intervene—guiding a soul that might bring light or balance to those worlds in need, or simply giving a deserving spirit a second chance to grow."
My mind raced. Goddess of Magic? Worlds, plural? My heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and disbelief. This sounded like the setup of countless fantasy novels and anime I'd devoured in my youth—people dying and meeting a godlike being who offered reincarnation. I almost wanted to laugh at how closely it mirrored those fantastical stories, yet it felt undeniably real. The gentle hum of power in the air, the clarity of my thoughts, the very presence of Magi before me—it was all real.
I realized Magi was waiting patiently while I processed her words. I cleared my throat, feeling a bit self-conscious. "So... you're offering me a second chance? A new life?"
"Yes," Magi affirmed, a hint of warmth in her eyes at my cautious acceptance. "If that is what you wish. You need not move on to the unknown beyond, not yet. I am offering to place you into a new life, in a world of your choosing."
A world of my choosing. The enormity of that offer left me momentarily speechless. My thoughts immediately went to the world I came from—did she mean there, as someone else? Or did she mean something beyond, something truly different? She had mentioned "worlds and realities." My breath caught. Perhaps even worlds I thought were only fiction...
My eyes widened. "When you say worlds... do you mean..." I hesitated, hardly daring to hope, "even worlds that humans have imagined? Fictional worlds?"
Magi's smile broadened a touch, and she stepped aside, sweeping her staff in a slow arc. "See for yourself."
At the motion of her staff, the space beside us came alive with movement and color. Like windows opening in the void, scenes flickered into existence around us, each one a doorway to a different reality. I turned in a slow circle, marveling at the images surrounding us on all sides.
To my right, I saw twin suns rising over a desert planet – a young man in robes gazing out at the horizon while droids milled in the sand behind him. Star Wars. I recognized it instantly: Luke Skywalker on Tatooine. The scene shimmered and shifted: starships firing bright bolts of energy in the vacuum of space, glowing lightsabers clashing in a blur of color. The iconic hum and crackle of the sabers reverberated faintly in the air around me, as if I stood at the crossroads of their universe.
Behind me, another window revealed a vast ocean under a sunny sky, dotted with islands and a massive pirate ship bearing a Jolly Roger flag with a straw hat motif. On the deck, I could just make out a familiar figure with a wide grin and a red vest—Monkey D. Luffy from One Piece. Around his ship, other vessels sailed and leviathan sea monsters surfaced with jaws agape. The scent of salt and sea breeze seemed to waft through the void from that scene.
To my left, a cloudy night sky roiled with thunder. On a hilltop stood a teenage boy holding a bronze sword that gleamed in the lightning flash. At his feet coiled the enormous form of a snake-haired monster turning to dust—Percy Jackson, defeating Medusa perhaps. In the distance I saw the twinkling lights of what might have been Camp Half-Blood. I could faintly hear the clash of swords and the roar of ancient monsters echoing forth.
Finally, directly before me, a scene materialized that made my breath catch. A magnificent castle with many turrets and towers, perched atop a cliff overlooking a black lake. Hogwarts. Even if I hadn't recognized the silhouette from the movies, the vision of students in robes flying on broomsticks around the castle grounds was unmistakable. I saw a burst of red and green spellfire in the night sky above the castle, as if dueling wizards were practicing. The faint sound of a train whistle and the chug of an engine reached my ears—perhaps the Hogwarts Express? Warm nostalgia flooded my chest.
"These are but a few of the worlds your kind has imagined," Magi said softly. She watched me with that serene, knowing expression. "Worlds born from creativity, sustained by belief, and in a way, made real in the tapestry of magic. You can live again in one of these places, if it is your wish."
My eyes stung suddenly with tears I hadn't expected. I hastily wiped at them, letting out a breathless laugh. "This... this is incredible." As a child, I had often escaped into books and films, dreaming of adventures in galaxies far away or magical schools hidden from Muggle eyes. To be offered the chance to actually go to one of those worlds—it was beyond anything I could have imagined. I turned slowly, taking in each option again with hungry eyes.
Star Wars: exhilarating, but war-torn and perilous—no doubt I'd end up a nobody in the vast Empire, or worse, caught in endless galactic conflict. One Piece: thrilling adventure on the high seas, yet death and danger lurked at every turn in that world of pirates and Sea Kings. Percy Jackson's world of Greek gods come alive—exciting, but demigods led brutal lives and rarely got to grow old.
But Harry Potter's world... that felt different. It had its own dangers, yes—the rise of Voldemort and other dark forces—but something about it had always felt like home to me when I was younger. Perhaps because, despite the magic and perils, it was still fundamentally our Earth, just with a hidden layer. I could imagine living an ordinary life there, but with the wonder of magic intertwined. It was a world where friendship, love, and courage triumphed over darkness—where a scrawny boy with a lightning scar showed that even in the darkest times, light could shine.
"I choose... Harry Potter's world," I said firmly, feeling a surge of certainty as I uttered the words. My heart pounded with anticipation. This was it—the moment my new journey would truly begin. If Magi allowed it, I would become part of the universe that had shaped so much of my childhood imagination.
Magi inclined her head in acknowledgment. With a subtle twirl of her staff, the other windows around us faded away, their images folding back into the void like turning the pages of a book. Only the vision of Hogwarts remained, hovering nearby and illuminating us with a gentle, expectant glow. I found myself smiling like a kid at the sight, excitement and nervous energy swirling in my gut.
"A wise choice," Magi said, a hint of approval in her tone. "That world is in need of more light and hope, though few know it yet." Her golden eyes looked into mine, and I had the uncanny sense she knew exactly what trials lay ahead in that timeline. "Now, Jasen, you will be reborn there. We must shape the life you shall live. Tell me what you desire for this second chance."
I took a deep breath, my mind already racing with possibilities. This was the next critical step—deciding the circumstances of my new life. I knew immediately that I didn't want to simply take over an existing character's life. No, I wanted to be me, or rather a new person I could mold, free of any predetermined fate. An original character, as one might say.
"I'd like to be born as a new, original person in that world," I began slowly, thinking aloud as I crafted my wish. "Someone who could exist alongside the main characters but isn't bound by their exact story."
Magi nodded for me to continue, her expression attentive.
"I have a name in mind," I said, feeling a small thrill—naming myself felt significant. "Callum Dawn. I want that to be my name in the new world."
"Callum Dawn," she repeated, the name echoing in the cosmic space as if acknowledged by the stars themselves. "So it shall be. And your birth?"
I thought about the timeline I remembered. If I wanted to experience Hogwarts alongside Harry and his friends, I needed to be born around the same time they were. "Harry Potter was born at the end of July in 1980," I recalled. "I'd like to be born in that same year—perhaps a little earlier so I'm roughly his age but slightly older. Let's say... June 13, 1980."
Magi's lips curved in a pleased smile. "A specific date. Very well."
With a wave of her free hand, Magi conjured a delicate parchment in midair, filled with ornate script. I squinted, realizing it was essentially a cosmic birth record being written before my eyes. It listed the name Callum Dawn, the birthdate, and was now moving on to details like parentage.
"Tell me of your family, Callum," Magi said, using my soon-to-be name kindly. "What kind of life do you wish to be born into? Every life is shaped by those who raise it."
This part was deeply important to me. In the Harry Potter world, so much can hinge on one's family and upbringing. I knew without a doubt that I didn't want a tragic childhood like Harry's, nor did I want the cold privilege of, say, a Malfoy. I yearned for something I'd missed out on at times—a warm, supportive family environment where I could grow without constant fear or neglect. My first life hadn't been devoid of love, but it had its share of turmoil and isolation. This time, I wanted a foundation of love and stability.
"I want my new family to be diverse," I said. "Let my father be a Black American wizard, one whose family is originally from the UK—maybe he comes from a powerful old British wizarding family, but he was born or raised in the States. And my mother..." I smiled as I envisioned her, "from Ethiopia, of a royal magical bloodline there. They will raise me in Britain, within the wizarding community, so I'll grow up there and be able to attend Hogwarts with my peers."
Magi raised an eyebrow slightly, the only visible sign of surprise I'd seen from her yet. "Interesting," she murmured. "You wish to unite two distant lines of magic... one from the West and one from ancient Africa. The blood of a powerful British wizard family, and the blood of Ethiopian royalty and sorcery. A unique combination."
For a second I worried I might be asking for too much, or something too specific to be within her willingness to grant. "Is that... allowed?" I asked tentatively. "I mean, is it within your power to arrange such a background for me?"
She laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of distant bells. "Child, nearly anything is within my power here. The question is whether it is wise or fitting. In your case, I see no issue. A healthy, loving family of two different magical heritages... It may well give you interesting strengths and perspectives in your new life." Her expression grew thoughtful, mysterious. "It is done."
I followed her gaze to the floating parchment. Names were now appearing for the mother and father of Callum Dawn, along with brief descriptions: Father: Desmond Dawn, scion of the ancient House of Dawn (so my surname would be an old wizarding family name, it seemed), noted as born in America but of British magical lineage; Mother: Samira Dawn (née Tesfaye), of Ethiopian magical royal blood. My heart swelled at the sight. I had parents waiting for me, even their names spelled out by fate. It made everything feel tangible and real.
"Thank you," I said earnestly, turning back to Magi with gratitude shining in my eyes. "This is more than I could have hoped for."
She inclined her head graciously. "Do not thank me yet. The life you described will give you a good start, but it is you who must live it well."
"I will," I promised, resolve hardening within me. I wasn't going to squander this chance. I would treasure this new life and those in it.
Magi seemed pleased with my determination. "Now, what of your own gifts and talents? Every soul is unique, but you may request certain blessings or traits to carry with you." She gestured lightly, and the parchment rolled itself up and vanished in a puff of stardust. "Be aware, however, that while I can grant you advantages, the world you enter will have its own say in how your life unfolds. Balance must be maintained."
I nodded, having expected as much. This was the moment in those familiar stories where the departed soul asks for cheats—extraordinary powers, genius intellect, or other gifts to dominate their new life. The temptation was there, of course. Who wouldn't want to start off with immense magical power or unparalleled skills? But when I looked into myself, I realized that wasn't what I truly wanted. In the stories I loved, it was the journey of growth that made them worth reading—the struggles, the learning, the gradual overcoming of challenges. If I popped into the world already at the top, what point was there in living through it all?
"I don't want to be a prodigy handed everything on a silver platter," I said slowly. "I don't need to start off with world-breaking power or skill. I... I actually want to grow into my strength, you know? To earn it bit by bit."
Magi's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise, and then she smiled, looking genuinely impressed. "That is a humble and mature wish. Many in your position beg for extraordinary talent or might beyond measure."
I gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "Oh, I considered it. But I think it would rob me of the experience. I'd end up repeating the same mistakes I made in my old life—always looking for an easy way out, never truly pushing my limits. This time, I want to do it right."
A flicker of memory crossed my mind: times when I had shirked challenges, settling for less because I was afraid to fail. In this new life, I wanted to overcome that part of myself, not indulge it.
"Well spoken," Magi said softly, her tone approving. "Still, it is within your rights to ask for some boons. Starting completely from scratch in a world as perilous as that one might lead to an early end, which benefits no one. So, what would you ask of me, within reason?"
I held up one finger. "First, I'd like a strong, healthy body. In my last life I wasn't exactly the pinnacle of fitness... I had minor health issues and was never very athletic. This time, I want a body that's naturally resilient—fewer sicknesses, better stamina. Maybe with the potential to grow tall and fit if I put in the effort, instead of being stuck with, say, a chronically weak constitution." I lowered my hand, a bit embarrassed at my own phrasing. "Nothing superhuman, just above average physical potential and robustness."
Magi nodded. "A body capable of great growth and endurance, should you train it. Granted." She traced a small sigil in the air with her fingertip, and I felt a gentle warmth pass through me, as if a breeze laden with summer sunshine momentarily swirled around my soul.
Encouraged by her easy agreement, I continued. "Second, I would like a better memory and aptitude for learning. I don't need to be a genius, but in my old life I was... well, let's just say I had to read things multiple times to really retain them. For a world with magic, I imagine there will be a lot to study—incantations, potions, history. If I could learn a bit faster or remember a bit more clearly, it would help a lot."
Magi actually let out a soft chuckle. "A keen mind to absorb knowledge—within mortal bounds. Very well. But be warned: remembering much means you will carry both the good and the bad. A sharp memory can cut two ways."
"I understand," I replied, inclining my head. "I'll take that risk."
She twirled her staff in a small circle, and I felt a cool, crisp sensation ripple through me, like a splash of clear water inside my head. It was refreshing, as if my very soul had been dusted free of cobwebs.
"Anything else?" Magi prompted, looking at me thoughtfully.
I paused, considering. Those were the main physical and mental boosts I wanted: a strong body and a sharp mind. My magical potential, I hoped, would naturally be decent given my lineage—two strong magical bloodlines. It felt greedy to ask for raw magical power on top of that. Instead, a different idea surfaced, one that made me smile a bit. It was something I'd read about in many stories—a guiding system to help the protagonist grow. If such things were possible, it could be the perfect tool for someone who wanted to improve steadily.
"This might be unusual," I ventured, "but could I have something like a... guidance system? A sort of interface that helps me keep track of my progress and goals. Not something that gives me power outright, just a tool to monitor how I'm doing and maybe point me in the right direction when I'm lost."
Magi tilted her head, clearly familiar with the concept. "You mortals and your fascination with turning life into a game," she said, but her tone was more amused than dismissive. "I have seen such systems implemented on occasion. Essentially, you desire a personalized magical guide—one that provides feedback and objectives, yes?"
"Yes," I said, relieved that she understood. "Think of it like a journal or mentor that updates itself. It might present me with quests or challenges to encourage growth, reward me when I accomplish important milestones, and keep record of my skills and abilities. But nothing too invasive or that breaks the logic of the world. I don't want an overpowered cheat menu, just a structured guide to help me become the best I can be."
Magi appeared to consider this for a moment. Then she gave a single decisive nod. "Very well. A soulbound growth system shall be integrated into your being. It will remain subtle, revealing itself mainly to you and only at appropriate times. You will not be able to conjure infinite gold or bend reality with it—it will merely reflect your own efforts and occasionally provide insight or opportunity."
"That's perfect," I said gratefully. Inwardly, I was buzzing with excitement. A guiding system was exactly what I'd hoped for to maximize this second chance. "Thank you."
Magi tapped the end of her staff lightly on the void beneath us. There was a soft chime, and suddenly a translucent panel of light materialized in the air between us. I leaned forward, eyes wide. It looked like a clean, minimalist video game interface, hovering about chest-height. At the top, it read in gentle golden letters: Reincarnation Initialization – Soulbound System. Below that, it began listing basic information in neat lines:
Name: Callum Dawn
Age: 0 (to be born)
Race: Human (Wizard)
Lineage: House of Dawn & Royal Ethiopian Bloodline
Traits: To be determined...
It was surreal to see what looked like a character creation screen out of one of my RPGs, displaying the choices we'd just made. I even saw a section labeled Quests, currently empty, and Attributes, also empty for now. A small note flashed at the bottom: System will fully initialize upon rebirth. I grinned, unable to help myself. This was really happening.
After a moment, the glowing interface faded away with another soft chime, disappearing from view. "It will be with you when you awaken in your new life," Magi explained. "Likely it will appear in your mind's eye, or when you call for it. It will guide and record, but remember: it is you who must walk the path."
"Understood," I replied. I already felt a reassuring sense of security knowing I'd have that little helper alongside my own resolve.
Magi studied me for a final moment, and I sensed a gentle weight to her gaze—as if ensuring she hadn't missed anything important. "One more boon you may ask," she said quietly. "Consider it a parting gift. Choose wisely."
I inhaled. This was it—the last ask. I'd covered the basics: body, mind, a guiding system. Did I need anything else? Not need, perhaps, but there was something I deeply wanted. It was a bit unusual and not directly about power or knowledge, but about navigating life itself.
"There is one thing," I said softly. "I would like a special ability: the power to sense when someone is lying to me or hiding the truth."
Magi's golden eyes narrowed just a fraction. In a keen, assessing way. "Truth detection?" she clarified. Clearly she hadn't expected that request.
"Yes," I nodded. "More specifically, I want to be able to discern honesty. To know if someone's words don't match their true feelings or intentions. It doesn't have to be absolute mind-reading—just a reliable gut feeling or a subtle tell that I can pick up on."
She was quiet for a long moment. In the silence, I heard the distant hum of that accursed black hole beneath her throne, a reminder of the gravity of what I was asking. When Magi spoke again, her voice was gentle but solemn. "Mind you, child, the truth can be a heavy burden. To see through deception is a useful gift, but it may bring you pain. Some lies are told for cruelty, yes, but others are told out of mercy or necessity. Are you certain you wish to carry this ability?"
I appreciated the warning. Images flashed through my mind: past betrayals that had left scars, friends, lovers , and family whose smiles hid pain I never noticed until it was too late, my own struggles to tell others when I was hurting. How different my first life might have been if I'd known when someone's heart didn't match their words. It might hurt to perceive such things, true, but I felt it would ultimately allow me to form deeper, more genuine relationships—and protect myself and those I cared for from falsehoods.
"I'm sure," I said, meeting Magi's gaze steadily. "Even if the truth is painful, I believe facing it is better than living in comforting lies. And if the truth is good, then I'll know to trust wholeheartedly. I promise I'll use that gift with care."
Magi slowly inclined her head. "So be it. The truth you shall see—and all that comes with it."
She extended her hand, palm up, and a tiny orb of luminescent blue light winked into existence above it. With a soft, almost regretful sigh, Magi flicked her fingers. The orb floated toward me, then in a swift, smooth motion, sank into my chest. I gasped as I felt a cool tingling spread through my being. For an instant, my vision shimmered; I saw faint, colorless flames flicker around Magi, then vanish. I blinked and it was over. The sensation passed, leaving behind a subtle heightened awareness, like my soul's eyes had been cleaned and opened a little wider.
I placed a hand over my heart, where the orb had entered, and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Magi. I can't express how grateful I am. You've given me... everything." My voice cracked slightly with emotion. Just minutes ago (or was it hours? time felt ethereal here), I was dead and full of regrets. Now I was on the cusp of a new life, armed with blessings and hope.
Magi finally returned to her throne, each step measured and graceful. She sat and regarded me with a tender, enigmatic smile. In the infinite space around us, the stars of her throne glimmered and the black hole below gave a distant rumble.
"Live this life fully, Callum Dawn," she intoned softly. "Remember that strength without compassion is empty. Determination will carry you far, but do not let it harden your heart. You have a second chance not just to better yourself, but to touch the lives of others. Cherish those who care for you, and do not be too proud to accept their help. Even the strongest walls sometimes need support to stand."
I absorbed her words, letting them etch into my memory. It felt like a sacred oath or prophecy. "I will remember, Magi," I said fervently. "I won't waste this chance. I'll live my new life to the fullest, and I'll strive to be someone worthy of the gifts you've given me." My heart swelled with resolve. I meant every word.
The serene, mysterious smile on her face was the last thing I saw. "Farewell, Callum Dawn. Until we meet again, in another time or life. May magic guide your path."
She raised her slender hand and snapped her fingers.
SNAP.
In an instant, the entire cosmic scene shattered into nothingness. Light, darkness, stars, and gods—all blinked out. I had a brief sensation of falling, or maybe flying, as if I were a meteor streaking through a vast emptiness. There was no fear—somehow I felt cradled, as if invisible hands were carrying me safely to my destination. The warmth of Magi's parting smile lingered, wrapping me in peace as everything went black.
Sound came to me first. Muffled, distant at first, then growing clearer by the moment. Voices. Gentle, loving voices echoing around me. I felt a sensation of compression, as though I were being held snugly. A new awareness bloomed—dazed and weak, but present.
"...beautiful baby boy... look at him," a woman's voice said, words dripping with awe and happiness.
"He has your eyes, Samira," came a deeper voice, warm and proud.
"And your nose, Desmond!" the woman laughed softly in reply.
Those names—Samira, Desmond—flitted through my memory. My parents. My heart (a new, tiny heart) leapt. With considerable effort, I managed to crack open my eyes. Everything was huge and blurry. I saw two large shapes above me, one cradled close and the other leaning in. As my newborn eyes adjusted to the light, the shapes resolved into faces. My mother's face was a rich medium-brown, her eyes shining with tears of joy. She looked exhausted but radiant, wrapped in what appeared to be a hospital gown or perhaps a birthing robe. Black curls framed her face, damp with sweat. She was smiling wider than anyone I'd ever seen, and when our eyes met, a tear of happiness rolled down her cheek. "Hello, my sweet Callum," she whispered. That single sentence was laden with such love that I felt my heart (my tiny, newborn heart) clench with emotion.
Beside her, a dark-skinned man—my father—was gently supporting her and gazing down at me with unbridled pride. He had strong, kind features, a neatly trimmed beard, and eyes that sparkled with relief and delight. "Welcome to the world, little one," he said softly, his voice deep and soothing. I felt a large hand—his hand—caress the top of my head, which I now realized was covered in a soft fuzz of hair. I couldn't help myself—I gurgled, an involuntary baby noise escaping me, and saw both of them laugh tenderly.(Image here)
I wanted to speak, to tell them I'm here, thank you, I love you already, but all that came out was a tiny coo. It was okay; they seemed to understand the sentiment behind my feeble newborn sounds. My mother carefully scooped me up and held me against her chest. I could hear her heartbeat, strong and steady, and it was the most comforting sound in the world. Instinctively, my little arms shifted, and one of my hands grasped onto her finger. She gasped in delight at my grip. My father wrapped his arm around both of us, and I felt the warm solidity of family surrounding me.
Tears of my own pricked at my eyes—real tears of a newborn, perhaps, but fueled by the overwhelmed twenty-nine-year-old soul inside. In that moment, I made a silent vow: This time, I will do it right. I will grow, I will cherish those around me, and I will face whatever challenges come with determination and heart. I had been given a second chance at life, a rare and precious gift.
Nestled safely in my mother's arms, with my father's gentle hand on my back, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel hope, love, and quiet determination. My new life as Callum Dawn had just begun, and I was ready to meet it head on—one small step at a time.