In a darkened village on the northern continent, a young man stood near railroad tracks. He gazed at the stars, then at the sky, before his eyes settled on the steel rails stretching into the distance. The metal gleamed faintly under the moonlight, cold and unforgiving.
"Well, I guess it's time," he whispered to himself, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
He walked toward the tracks, each step heavier than the last, and memories flooded his mind—his older sister's laugh, his parents' gentle voices. They had made him promise not to do anything drastic when they were gone, had made him swear on everything he held dear. The promise echoed in his thoughts as the train barreled toward him, its whistle piercing the night. He smiled, but the expression crumbled into a grimace of pain and regret, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry for not keeping my promise," he said, his voice breaking into a sob. "I hope you can forgive me."
The train struck him, and he took his last breath.
---
The man's eyes opened. He blinked against the brightness, disoriented and confused. He looked around, confusion washing over him like a wave. Wasn't he dead? He had wanted to escape that terrible world, to finally find peace in the void, but apparently fate had other plans. He couldn't even die in peace.
He stood up from the grassy ground, his limbs feeling strange and unfamiliar, and surveyed his surroundings. A few buildings and houses dotted the landscape, their architecture unlike anything he recognized, but beyond them stretched a vast field spanning hundreds of miles. No roads interrupted the endless expanse of green.
A young girl suddenly ran toward him, her blonde hair bouncing with each step, her face flushed with relief and worry.
"We've been looking everywhere for you!" she cried, her voice high and breathless. "Me and Mom searched the whole village!"
She appeared to be eight or nine at most, with bright eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. He felt no familiarity looking at her, no recognition whatsoever, but then the memories came rushing in like a bullet piercing his skull. New memories poured into his mind—every detail of a life that wasn't his own, flooding his consciousness with images, sounds, and feelings.
This boy had also committed suicide, just as he had done. But the boy's reason made no sense, defied all logic. Unlike him, this child had a younger sister and a mother who loved him deeply. Why would he throw that away? Why would anyone abandon such precious gifts? At least his own suicide had been justified—he had already lost everything, had nothing left to live for. But this boy had people who cared for him, who would mourn his absence.
Now his soul inhabited the young boy's body, a second chance he never asked for.
The girl's name was Abby. She grabbed his hand with small, warm fingers and smiled brightly, her earlier worry melting away.
"Come on, I'll take you to Mom," she said, pulling him along with surprising strength for someone so small.
Soon she stopped, and he looked up to see a beautiful, elegant woman standing before him. Her eyes, the same shade as Abby's, widened with relief. She smiled warmly and ran to embrace him, her movements graceful yet urgent. Her arms wrapped around his entire body, and he felt something he hadn't experienced in years—the warmth of genuine affection, unconditional and pure.
The last time someone had hugged him was before his sister and parents died in that accident. He had missed this feeling desperately, had believed he would never experience it again, had resigned himself to a life of isolation. But now, in this world, in this body, he felt love once more. For so many years, he had grown numb to everything, had built walls around his heart. Depression had been his only companion, living rent-free in his head, and he hadn't minded because it was familiar. But now it was gone, banished by this simple embrace. He had people again. He finally had people who cared whether he lived or died.
His mother's name was Hope—fitting, he thought. She pulled back slightly and studied her son's face for a moment, her brow furrowing as she noticed the solemn expression that flickered across his features before he quickly masked it.
"Where were you?" Hope asked, her tone filled with worry and a hint of fear. "We've been searching for hours."
He tried to come up with an excuse—anything other than "I woke up in the middle of a field after killing myself"—but the words wouldn't come. His mind raced, yet produced nothing convincing. He remained silent, unable to meet her eyes.
She checked his body for wounds, her hands gentle but thorough, and found nothing except a cut on his neck. It wasn't bleeding, but it was there, thin and precise. She quickly ushered him and Abby inside their home, a modest but warm dwelling, and treated the wound with practiced efficiency. He grimaced slightly, though the pain wasn't as intense as he expected, more of a dull sting than anything else.
Despite having all the boy's memories, he couldn't find the one that mattered most—why the boy had committed suicide. Looking through those memories like pages in a book, he saw a wonderful, amazing life filled with a loving family and caring people. Birthdays celebrated with homemade cakes, evenings spent by the fire telling stories, mornings greeted with his mother's smile. If only he had enjoyed those luxuries in his past life. If only they hadn't been taken from him so cruelly.
"Are you ready for the magic test tomorrow?" Hope asked, attempting to make small talk while she bandaged his neck, though her eyes betrayed her lingering concern.
He searched through his memory bank again, sifting through the boy's experiences. The boy's magic affinity was impressive, based on what he could see—natural talent that others would envy. He didn't know if he was truly ready, had no idea what the test would entail, but he answered yes anyway. How bad could it be? There was only one way to find out.
Even though his younger sister and mother wouldn't be angry if he failed, wouldn't love him any less, he would still try his hardest. He refused to fail in front of them, refused to disappoint the people who had given him this second chance. He wanted them to know their son was proud and strong, that he would do everything to protect them no matter what challenges arose.
He didn't feel like losing anyone else ever again. Not in this life. Never again.