nt, there

leep that never ends. Walkins Homer-or whatever name he now bore-was no longer sure of who or where he was. The world he ha

ense of calm. Slowly, his senses began to return. First, a faint sound-soft murmurs like the wind brushing against his skin. The

felt... strange. Foreign, even. It wasn't like the body he had known-thin, frail, and weathered from years of neglect. No, this body was small. So

d not recognize. A high, vaulted ceiling with beams of dark wood stretching across. He was lying on

ppening? Wh

led with books, crystals, and other objects that seemed almost... magical. The air

the haze of confusion. "F

oy

miliar. But it wasn't his own,

, and her green eyes glowed with warmth and love. She wore a simple, elegant dress that seemed to shimmer slightly in the so

thin his thoughts, co

ce soft, soothing, almost musical. "You've been asle

dden storm. Mother? Was thi

, another voice, deeper and more c

he a

features were striking, angular, his dark hair swept back in a way that spoke of both authority and ge

ght again, trying to

deep but filled with warmth. "How are yo

ldn't be real. A mother. A father. A bed. A life that felt so... foreign. The memories of his past life-his lonely existence,

dered, still unable to grasp

anged a glance, and th

ven a second chance at life. A fresh start," sh

e he could ask them, something strange began to happen. A voice-no, not a voice. A presence, a sensation, flickered in hi

em o

his eyes wide. Was th

lm and emotionless, yet

been granted a new life in this w

throat. What was this? Some

our potential. All of your previous memories, skills, and knowledge are intact. You

crashing into him like a tidal wave. Power. Magic. A system. This... t

em, the warmth of his mother's hand on hi

e been through a lot, but we're here for you. Yo

orn? And what did it mean? He wasn't sure, but one thing was clear. This was no longer the life of Walkins Homer, the

ir love and care surrounding him, Floyd realized that,

ould find something dif

-