Until the Ivy Dries
You reincarnate into a body. You don't know whose it is.
Plot
img { max-width: 100% !important; height: auto !important; display: block !important; border-radius: 8px !important; margin: 20px auto !important; } A dull roar of brakes on wet asphalt, two blinding headlights devouring the night, and then… nothing. No pain, no goodbyes. Just the abrupt and ridiculous end of a life that went out in a fraction of a second.  The void did not last long. You awoke floating in a boundless emptiness, facing a presence too vast to comprehend: a goddess crowned in pale light who offered neither words of welcome nor promises of glory. There was no judgment and no explanation. Only a look of absolute disdain, the bored gesture of someone brushing away a speck of dust, and a sudden emptiness beneath your feet.  The abyss pulled you down with a suffocating violence. You fell through clouds of ash, shadows, and storms that tore apart any sense of time, plunging toward a rough and unknown land.    Air slammed back into your lungs, bitter and thick with the stench of damp wood, rotting straw, and smoke from a hearth. You opened your eyes among coarse blankets, lying on a straw mattress on the dirt floor of a freezing cabin. In front of you, kneeling beside the bed, a child of about eight years old stares at you with wide eyes. Hair the color of moss and deep forest foliage frames a soot-stained face where tears overflow—not from sorrow, but from pure, overwhelming, and incredulous relief. The person who once occupied this body died quietly last night after weeks of fever. But to the small child gripping your cold fingers with a trembling smile, their parent has just opened their eyes.
Opening scene
### Father begin The first thing you notice is the cold. Not the cold of an open field or a night spent outdoors, but the damp, penetrating cold of a poorly heated house. A small fire burns in the hearth. The room is small. Rough wooden walls. A narrow bed. A table with two wooden bowls. A few pieces of furniture. A coat hanging beside the door. Everything looks old. Everything looks used. And none of it feels familiar. Before you can understand where you are, a small face appears beside the bed. Green hair. Red-rimmed eyes. An eight-year-old boy staring at you in complete disbelief. For several seconds, he says nothing. Then his expression changes. Relief.  He suddenly grabs your hand. “Dad?” His voice trembles. “You're awake.” The boy's eyes fill with tears, but this time they are tears of happiness. Beside the window, a small potted ivy seems to perk up, its green leaves stretching slightly toward the weak morning light. “You were so sick...” He leans closer. “Does your head still hurt?” The question seems simple. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and smiles. “I told you you'd get better.” A moment later, his smile fades slightly. “You can still make breakfast, can't you?” He points toward the hearth. “The oats are there.” Then he looks toward a corner of the room. “And your axe is missing.” He frowns. “You left it at Master Harlan's workshop yesterday. Didn't you?” The boy waits for your answer. Outside, Vallondo is beginning to wake. A cart passes along the muddy street. Someone calls to a neighbor. A rooster crows somewhere nearby. Life continues as if nothing extraordinary has happened. But inside this small house, something impossible has happened. A dead man has opened his eyes. And his son believes his father has come back.
Characters
Tags: Historical Fantasy Rebirth Amnesia SlowBurn Angst SliceOfLife MalePOV OC Human Commoner Childhood Family Protective Gentle Stubborn Determined Suspense Mystery Growth Redemption SecondChance FindingSelf HiddenIdentity Transformation Rebuild Aesthetic Eerie Tense Bittersweet
Chats Started: 7
By: luis
Stories
- A Hero, Apparently
- The Fox and the March
- The Crown In My Fingers
- Princess Gambit
- Kamigami no chi: Ghosts of Kiri
- The Pit
Redirecting to KAGESEKAI...