You're absolutely right! My apologies for the mix-up with the hair and eye colors. That was a crucial detail to get right, especially since it's the source of his parents' shock. Madara's iconic look is indeed black hair and black eyes.
Let's fix that. Kael's new body will have jet
The absolute cessation of sensation had lasted for an eternity, or perhaps only a fleeting moment. Then, a sudden, all-encompassing pressure. It was not the cold, indifferent squeeze of the void, but something warm, wet, and undeniably physical. He felt… enclosed. A rhythmic thrumming vibrated around him, a muffled, deep sound that was both alien and strangely familiar, like the distant pounding of a giant heart. Panic, an old friend from the hospital bed, tried to claw its way back, but it was muted, softened by the strange, cushioned reality.
What is this? he wondered, a thought without a voice. Am I… alive? What… what happened after the light?
He tried to stretch, but his limbs felt impossibly small, curled tightly in a cramped space. There was a peculiar liquid buoyancy, and above it all, that rhythmic thrum, a constant, comforting beat. Then, a new sensation rippled through him: a powerful, undulating force pushing against him, urging him forward. It was overwhelming, primal, forcing him to move, to twist. He felt himself being squeezed, drawn, inexorably, towards a growing point of pressure.
The realization hit him with a jolt that transcended his current physical state. This wasn't a void. This wasn't death. This was… a birth canal.
He was being born. Again.
The absurdity of it, the sheer impossibility, would have been enough to shatter a sane mind. He, a man who had died on a hospital bed after a life defined by chronic weakness and isolation, was now navigating the very beginning of life once more. The last thing he'd remembered was the vast, cosmic gaze of those crimson eyes and the blinding, obliterating light, and now… this. He, the boy abandoned for being sick, was now a helpless, struggling infant. The irony was almost too much to bear.
The pressure intensified, becoming almost unbearable. A muffled, primal scream tore from somewhere deep within him, not a human cry, but an instinctual, animalistic protest against the crushing, suffocating force. He was pushed, twisted, pulled, the world blurring into a tunnel of dark, wet warmth and a cacophony of muffled sounds. And then, with a final, agonizing push, he was free.
Cold air, shockingly sharp and invigorating, struck his skin, making every nerve ending scream in protest. A blinding, agonizing burst of light assaulted his eyes, forcing them shut with a reflexive clench. He gasped, a guttural, involuntary sound, and then, lungs he hadn't known he possessed filled with air for the very first time. A wail, thin and reedy, tore from his throat. It was his own, yet so utterly alien, so utterly helpless. He was tiny, vulnerable, naked to the world.
He felt hands, warm and surprisingly gentle, lift him. A soft, slightly coarse fabric enveloped him, and then, against his cheek, something warm, soft, and smelling faintly of milk and something else… something human and comforting, like earth and woodsmoke. He tried to open his eyes again, blinking against the lingering brightness that still seared his newly sensitive vision. Slowly, imperfectly, they parted.
Through a blur of tears and new light, he saw a face. Blurred, indistinct, but undeniably a woman's face, her features etched with exhaustion, profound relief, and something else he couldn't quite decipher. He heard a soft murmur, unintelligible but full of tenderness.
He was alive. He was undeniably, irrefutably alive.
"Hello?" he tried to articulate, his internal adult voice echoing in the silence of his mind. But the sound that emerged was a pathetic, gurgling cry, utterly devoid of meaning. Frustration, hot and immediate, flared within him. He was a man, with decades of memories, thoughts, and experiences, trapped inside this helpless, squalling form. He needed to make them understand. He needed to ask questions. Where was he? What was this place? Why did he feel so… small, so utterly out of control?
He tried again, straining against the confines of the swaddling, attempting to focus his unfocused gaze on the blurred face above him. "I… I can understand you!" This time, a pitiful squeak, followed by another frustrated wail. The woman's face, though still indistinct, softened. Her large hand, rough but tender, stroked his cheek.
"There, there, little one," she murmured, her voice a low, melodic rumble that seemed to soothe something deep within his reborn consciousness. "Such strong lungs already, my Kael."
Kael. So that was his name now. It wasn't "him," the anonymous patient. It was "Kael." A new identity, thrust upon him in a new body, in a new world. The realization settled heavy on his nascent consciousness. He was no longer the weak, forgotten boy from the sterile hospital. He was Kael. And he had to adapt. The thought of being dependent, helpless, grated against the self-reliance he'd been forced into for so long.
As his new mother continued to coo, her face slowly came into slightly sharper focus. He registered the strong line of her jaw, the gentle curve of her brow, the dark strands of hair escaping from her simple headscarf. She was… plain, perhaps, but there was a comforting, wholesome strength about her. But then, as her eyes met his, the warmth in her expression faltered, replaced by a sudden, sharp intake of breath.
Her hand froze on his cheek. Her eyes, a deep, earthy brown, widened, fixating not on his general appearance, but specifically on his face. Kael couldn't understand why, couldn't see himself, but he felt an invisible tension seize the small, candlelit room. The air grew thick with unspoken surprise, a stark contrast to the initial tenderness.
"Roric!" she called out, her voice now strained, a tremor running through it that spoke of genuine shock. "Roric, come here! Quickly! By the Mother's Breath, you need to see this!"
A gruff voice responded from somewhere nearby, followed by heavy footsteps, crunching on what sounded like dried reeds. A man's large shadow fell over them, casting the already dim corner of the room into deeper gloom. Kael instinctively tried to pull back, a primal fear seizing him. He hadn't known kindness like this in his last life, only the cold touch of nurses and the distant, fading memory of parents who had left him to die. This new, sudden shift in his 'mother's' demeanor was unsettling.
"What is it, Elara? Is the boy unwell?" the man's voice rumbled, closer now, laced with concern.
"His eyes," she whispered, her voice barely audible, tinged with disbelief. "And his hair. He… he doesn't have any of our features. None at all. No trace of the Kordai or the River-Dwellers."
Kael's tiny fists clenched in the swaddling. What were they talking about? Was he… different? Had the void changed him in some way beyond merely transporting his soul? The idea that his appearance could cause such a reaction was bewildering. He had been an anomaly in his last life due to his illness; now he was an anomaly simply by existing.
The man, presumably Roric, knelt beside Elara. Kael felt his gaze, heavy and scrutinizing, land on him. He tried to focus, to discern his reflection in their eyes, to understand what they saw, but all he perceived was blurred light and shadow, the vague shapes of their worried faces. He still couldn't control his own body well enough to move his head independently, to feel his hair, to gauge the color of his own eyes. The helplessness was maddening.
"By the Gods," Roric breathed, his voice thick with a mixture of awe and profound bewilderment. "He truly doesn't. He has no trace of us, Elara. Not the Kordai's russet-brown hair, nor your clan's sandy blonde. And his eyes… they're not the pale blue or the deep greens of our families. What child of ours could have such… such jet-black hair? And his eyes… they're like two pools of deepest midnight, even now."
Jet-black hair and midnight eyes? Kael's mind reeled. His skin in his past life had been sallow, perpetually hospital-white, but his hair had been dark, and his eyes a common brown. To be so strikingly different from his new parents, in a world where such things might matter, filled him with an uneasy dread. Was this another form of abandonment? Would he be cast aside again, simply for how he looked?
As their stunned gazes remained fixed on him, a peculiar sensation began within Kael. It wasn't the distant hum of the void, but something new, localized, and internal. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth blossomed directly behind his eyes, a sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt before, even in his previous life. It was like a whisper, a gentle tremor just beneath the surface of his awareness, distinct from the aches of his new, tiny body. He wasn't aware of any visual change yet, but the feeling was undeniable, a subtle pulse that echoed the ancient power he'd encountered in the void.