The rain was a soft hum against the glass, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the car. Kiana yawned, her head drooping against the window. She had spent the whole day running around for Faris’s 18th birthday preparations, and the "little ball of energy" had finally run out of batteries.
Hana looked back from the passenger seat, her expression softening. She began to hum a melody— low, sweet, and hauntingly beautiful. Then, she started to sing the lyrics softly, a song she had made up for her children when they were babies.
"Wait for the moon to find the sea,
Where the starlight whispers,
'Come back to me.'
No matter how far the winds may blow,
The heart will find the home it knows..."
Faris leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He knew this song by heart. It was the sound of safety. He felt 15 again, not 18, listening to his mother’s voice. Even Amin, usually so stern, tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song.
"We're almost there," Amin whispered, not wanting to wake Kiana.
Then, the world broke.
There was no warning. Just a blinding flash of white light—not from headlights, but from something impossible appearing in the middle of the road. Amin slammed the brakes, but the car didn't stop. It felt like the air itself had turned into a vacuum.
Faris saw his mother reach back for him, her eyes wide with terror. Then, the sound of tearing metal swallowed the lullaby whole.
Faris was floating. He couldn't see his family. He couldn't even see his own hands. There was only a heavy, suffocating darkness.
"I’m sorry... I am so, so sorry..."
A woman's voice, trembling and filled with tears, echoed through the void. It wasn't the voice of a powerful deity; it was the voice of someone who had made a terrible mistake.
"It was a mistake... My power... I didn't mean to pull you across... but I cannot send you back. Your bodies are gone."
Faris tried to scream Where is my mom?! Where is Kiana?! but he had no throat.
"To make amends... I give you my blessing. A gift to survive this world. Please... find happiness here. I will guide your threads as best as I can. Please... forgive me."
A surge of warmth, like a hot brand, seared into Faris’s very soul. Then, the darkness rushed forward to claim him.
The transition was like being pulled through a straw. One moment, I was suspended in a golden void listening to a weeping goddess; the next, my lungs were burning with the first taste of cold, sharp air.
I tried to gasp, but all that came out was a high-pitched, gargling sound.
My vision was a mess of blurry shapes and dancing colors. Above me, two massive figures loomed. They looked like giants. A man with a thick, unkempt beard and a woman with sweat-matted hair were looking down at me. Their clothes weren't the soft cotton or polyester I was used to; they wore rough, undyed linen and leather.
Who are these people? I thought. My mind felt sluggish, like it was trying to run through mud. Wait... where’s the car? Where’s Mom?
I tried to reach out. In my head, I was reaching for my mother’s hand, expecting the long, steady fingers of an 18-year-old athlete.
But as I lifted my arm, I froze.
In front of my eyes was a tiny, chubby limb. The skin was red and wrinkled, and the fingers were no bigger than matchsticks. I tried to ball them into a fist, and they moved—slowly, clumsily—in a way that felt completely alien to me.
No... this can’t be. I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus on the room around us. There were no fluorescent hospital lights. No heart rate monitors. Instead, I saw thick wooden ceiling beams darkened by soot. A stone fireplace crackled in the corner, and a single oil lamp cast flickering shadows against the rough plaster walls. Through a small, glassless window, I could see the edge of a thatched roof and the green of a forest that looked far too wild for the city I knew.
The part of me that loved light novels and games, sparked to life. Stone walls... oil lamps... the Goddess... I actually got reincarnated. This is a world of swords and magic.
For a split second, a surge of adrenaline hit me. I was a protagonist! I had a new life! I could learn magic!
But then, the adrenaline faded, leaving behind a cold, hollow realization that hit me harder than the car crash.
If I’m here... then they must be here too. Right? Or... are they?
The image of the white light hitting our SUV flashed through my mind. I remembered the sound of the metal crunching. I remembered my dad’s hands on the wheel and Kiana’s laughter turning into a scream.
They’re dead. The thought wasn't a question anymore. It was a heavy, suffocating fact. I was in this "cool" new world, but I was alone. My mom was gone. My dad was gone. My little sister, who was supposed to have a whole life ahead of her, was gone.
"Look, Haris," the woman—Aina—whispered, her voice exhausted but warm. "He’s so quiet. He’s just... looking at his hands."
"A little genius already," the man laughed softly.
I wanted to tell them I wasn't a genius. I wanted to tell them I wanted my real family back. I tried to say “Are they dead?” but my throat wouldn't form the words. I was a prisoner in a body that could only do one thing.
The grief erupted. It started in my chest and surged upward. I didn't care about the magic. I didn't care about the new world. I just wanted to hear my mom finish that lullaby.
I squeezed my tiny eyes shut and let out a wail so loud it vibrated through my entire small frame. It wasn't the cry of a hungry baby. It was the sound of a boy who had lost everything, mourning a family whose voices still echoed in his mind, now forced to survive in a world that is foreign to him.