Silence.
That was it, more than anything.
Not the silence of the room.
But the one inside him.
A vast silence. Unknown.
A desert of half-buried emotions.
He stared at the flames.
They danced aimlessly, devouring the wood like ravenous beasts. They crackled softly, releasing small incandescent sighs.
And in every flicker, he thought he heard... memories.
His forehead rested on his folded knees. His breathing was slow, but every heartbeat echoed in his chest.
He had been afraid.
A fear unlike any he had known.
Not of dying.
Not really.
But of not returning.
Of getting lost. Of forgetting who he was.
Or discovering he had become someone else.
And yet, he remembered.
He remembered before.
Hospitals. Hallways too white.
Artificial light.
Silences too heavy.
Solitude.
He remembered his ink-stained hands, his equations scribbled on café napkins, his nights reading quantum mechanics articles while the world slept.
And he remembered abandonment.
That room no one knocked on anymore.
That door left open… not out of neglect, but because no one cared to close it again.
He had faded away there.
Not in pain. Not in a grand crash.
But in emptiness.
So why…
Why was he here?
Why had he been given a second chance?
His fingers clutched the blanket around him.
He felt cold, despite the fire.
Not a cold of the body.
But a cold of the soul.
An ancient frost from another life.
And in that suspended moment… he felt time.
Not a clock.
Not a ticking sound.
But a presence.
Something immense. Patient. Everywhere.
It was like a thread. A flow. A breath.
Invisible, yet tangible.
The mana of time.
He couldn't see it.
But he felt it.
And it wasn't magic.
It was older. More intimate.
His mind opened.
And words rose from nowhere.
"Some do not awaken early by luck, but by memory.
They are not prodigies... they are echoes."
He had read those lines, though he couldn't remember when.
Perhaps in a dream.
Or from the black egg, lying there on his table, asleep but alive.
The black egg pulsed gently.
Like a heart.
And in that instant… time seemed to slow.
The flames moved more slowly.
The wind froze.
Even the crackling wood stretched out.
Everything.
Everything slowed.
And he understood.
It wasn't the world changing.
It was him.
A wave of dizziness washed over him.
But he did not panic.
He breathed slowly.
Not to calm his body.
But to soothe that voice inside him that had been screaming for too long.
And then, in the heart of that inner silence, a truth emerged.
Clear. Heavy. Undeniable.
"To be free is not to live without constraint...
It is to have the power to choose your own."
He froze.
Those words were not from a book.
They were his.
He had finally understood.
In his previous life, he had fled every bond.
Every commitment. Every deep emotion.
He wanted to be his own master, independent, rational.
To depend on no one.
To owe nothing to anyone.
And yet...
He had died alone, without a single heart beating beside his.
No hand to hold.
No gaze to say he mattered.
His freedom had been a lie.
An isolation.
A refusal to love, for fear of suffering.
But now, in this silent home, under the trembling light of the fire...
he had another chance.
A chance to live differently.
To choose.
And he chose.
He chose Stella, the mother who loved him unconditionally.
He chose Gaël, the silent but present father, solid as a mountain.
He chose this world — imperfect, dangerous, unpredictable.
And he also chose time.
That strange, fluid force that didn't burn or strike, but wrapped and wove.
He now knew that the power of time was not a weapon.
It was a path.
A thread he would follow, not to dominate, but to understand.
To understand himself.
To understand others.
And perhaps...
To learn how to love without fear.
He sat up.
Shadows slid across his face.
His breathing matched the rhythm of the mana around him.
Then he looked at the black egg.
It was no longer just an object.
It was a symbol.
An echo.
A bond.
And already... something inside it stirred.
He listened.
He dove into himself.
Where fear and memory intertwine.
Where silence becomes truth.
And he saw.
Not an image.
But an intention.
Time did not scream.
It whispered.
"You have the right to begin again."
Érikan opened his eyes.
And for the first time... he felt whole.
Not at peace.
But aligned.
Between what he had been.
What he was.
And what he would become.
He said nothing.
But he chose.
A gentle silence still hovered in the room. But this time, it wasn't the silence of fear.
Érikan stood up. The blanket slipped gently from his shoulders. He stared at the fire, then at his parents. Slowly, he stepped toward them, each step grounded, as if walking through a dream made solid.
He stopped in front of them, his gaze shining yet calm. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper — but each word carried a new gravity.
Érikan:
— Mom. Dad.
I... I know I scared you. I was scared too.
Not because of the wolf.
But because… I didn't understand what I was feeling.
And because I thought… that if I changed, maybe you wouldn't love me the same anymore.
Stella's eyes welled with tears. She brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Gaël clenched his fists, jaw tight, but his eyes shimmered.
Érikan, placing his hand near the black egg on the table:
— Something woke up in me. It's not just mana.
It's… memory.
I can't explain it all.
But I know I'm different. Not a monster.
Not a prodigy either. Just… someone who remembers.
He looked at them both, wide-eyed, honest, vulnerable.
Érikan:
— And I don't want to run from what I feel anymore.
I don't want to be ashamed of who I am.
I don't want to stay silent to protect you.
Because I love you. And I choose you.
Stella voice breaking:
— Oh… my darling…
She broke down in tears. She rushed to him, dropped to her knees, and held him so tightly he could barely breathe. Her tears soaked his shirt — hot, trembling, overflowing with relief.
Stella:
— You're here. You're still here… My little one, my star, my miracle…
I'm sorry… sorry for being afraid. Sorry for not seeing you.
You're not alone. You never were.
Gaël, placing a firm but gentle hand on Érikan's head:
— You don't have to carry everything, son. Not even what you don't understand yet.
You don't have to be strong on your own.
Being a man isn't about staying silent. It's choosing to move forward with those who love you.
Érikan, resting against them:
— Then… I want to move forward with you.
They stayed there, the three of them, in a tight embrace. The fire still crackled — but this time, it truly warmed.
And on the table… the black egg pulsed once.
A heartbeat.
As if in answer