That day in the prison, the floodwater came from every direction. It was not a slow rise the waters rushing in was violent, churning, slamming against the walls making the prison groin with the pressure of the water. Soldier stood on the table, hands up in the air, praying out loud in that steady voice of his. I lowered my head and started praying too. For a moment, all I could think about was my family my mother and father who were always there for me and my little sister who I want to be with as she grew up into a fine lady. My family who would never see me again. A tear gathered in the corner of my eye before I could stop it. I had not cried once since coming to TDC. Showing that kind of weakness could get you marked, as an easy to exploit. But none of that mattered now. The end was coming, and we all knew it. Hope had drained out of the room as the water started to come to our wastes. Nothing could stop the water god wanted us at the bottom of the river and water kept rising, cold and relentless. Drowning was not the worst way to go. There is a strange peace to it like slipping back into the quiet warmth of your mother's womb, the world fading into something soft and distant. I did not want to die but mama I am not coming home.
My mind went blank, and my soul drifted free it felt weightless, unburdened. My sole floated through what I can only describe as an infant realm this is heaven. Time did not matter there. It did not move forward or backward. It simple was not. My conciseness woke in a heavenly realm a place that was soft and warm. A being stood there with me I could feel its soul bright and full of joy it almost felt like a humming. Its face was indescribably beautiful. I could feel its attention on me, it felt so gentle. I asked it where my family and friends were. My thoughts went to my grandfather and my best friend from middle school too. People I had lost long before the flood people. I thought I would finally see again. A sudden drop pulled at me, like the ground had vanished beneath my feet. The warmth dissolved, replaced by darkness and fluid pressing in around me. I did not understand what was happening. Then a light appeared ahead, small at first, then growing brighter. I thought for a second, I am going to make it to heaven.
I found myself in a room full of pointy‑eared people. They lifted me like I weighed nothing, passing me from one pair of hands to another. Someone cleared my airway. Someone else gave me a small injection. A third person traced glowing runes over a carved circle in the floor, and the whole thing lit up green. I didn't understand any of it, but I recognized the situation instantly. Growing up on a ranch, I'd seen my share of animals being born. The sounds, the movements, the way people handled a newborn then it all clicked. This was not heaven. This was birth. They placed me into the arms of a beautiful blond woman with emerald‑green eyes. Her expression was soft, relieved, overflowing with a soft loving aura. Soldier once told me about a book he read on reincarnation. I had laughed it off back then. Now, lying in this stranger's arms in a body that wasn't mine, I wished I had listened to him. Maybe I would have been less shocked. A thousand questions crashed through my mind. Where was I? What was I? Was I even human anymore?
I looked up at the pointed ears, the runes, the glowing circle, the strange language around me. I had a guess. Elven, I thought to myself I must be elven. This is not real I had read Lord of the Rings once. That was the closest frame of reference I had that even that felt flimsy compared to the reality I was staring at whatever I had become, it wasn't the man I used to be. It took a few weeks before everything finally made sense. No matter the race I was still a baby I found out I am the son of Eryndor Silvashar, my father, and Velatha Silvashar, my mother. They called me Zeno Silvashar.
An elven year or a rotation is four hundred days long. An eleven-life span is 500 rotations or a year it's hard for me to get my head around that number. Their calendars were precise, numbered, efficient. So, it's not like they have shorter years or they did not calculate that life span right I only figured that out because I saw one hanging in my father's study. My brain must have been wired on high mode because I picked up the elven language in what seemed like a few months. I am going to assume baby brains work the same no matter what world you come from. With the abilty to pick up on their parents' language quickly. I did practice a but I cannot really speak English either, I am still a baby. The elves in this territory of land live in a forest hidden by a permanent fog barrier. Humans assumed the forest was cursed or haunted because anyone who wandered in was either turned around, got lost or killed. It took me year to piece that together my parents did not exactly explain that to me. I did try to wonder in there as soon as I could was and I saw an opening. This quickly turned into me getting scolded by both of my parents. The forest was still a dangerous place for kid my size.
Elven aging was strange. They grew at a pace similar to humans until about sixteen, then their bodies simple just paused. They could stay in that youthful state until around four hundred years then they age for the next 100 years till they pass of old age. Outward appearance meant nothing a person who looked twenty could be two hundred, you never know. Elves were not even considered adults until seventy‑five years old. That still felt unreal to me. In my old world, seventy‑five meant retirement. Here, it meant you were finally old enough to stop being treated like a child. Their technology surprised me too. They were as advanced as humans from my old world, but everything ran on magic instead of machinery. Just like when I was born that was a group of nurses and the magic circles that were activated where one to heal then one to detox then one for vaccines for common illnesses in this world. That must be why they live so long. Elves live along time and they produce really slowly only ovulating once a every 10 years and carrying for another full year so time moves differently when you have a long life. And all of this the fog, the culture, the lifespan, the magic I gathered piece by piece, year by year, while living my life as a normal baby.
It took me almost 3 years to figure out how to read the elven language. But once it clicked, it clicked hard. I devoured every book I could find. In the Elven country, libraries are everywhere. Even the smallest towns have one. They are warm little buildings with carved beams and shelves. For a small child this place seemed to be endless. First few year growing up I wandering through them the same way they did in my old world.
That is where I found the origin story of the Elven people. According to the oldest texts, the God of Creation planted a world tree in the far north. From its tears came the first elves they were caretakers chosen to guard the tree and the lands around it. They first appeared at the northern pole of this world. It's funny. In my old world, the north pole was a frozen wasteland. Here, the spiritual dome that surrounds the world keeps the northern lands mild, almost serene.
One day, an Elven princess fell in love with a human. The gods saw this as a betrayal of their purpose. As punishment, they tore the elves from the spiritual realm and forced them into the physical world. No longer spirits tied to the world tree, but flesh and blood. They are now mortal, and bound to the same laws as everyone else. That was the moment the elves became what they are now. Thinking back to my old world, the story reminded me a little of Adam and Eve. Another tale of beings cast down from a higher state. Maybe I am reading too much into the similarity it's hard not to see the pattern. Different world, different Beliefs, but the same idea. Love or desire changing the fate of an entire people.
The village sat on the outskirts of the Elven Republic, tucked into the forest like it had grown there rather than been built. Homes were scattered among the trees, shaped with long, flowing curves that made them look almost alive. There was a school and a handful of public buildings woven into the landscape, each one following the natural bend of the wood. Nothing felt sharp or artificial. Small gardens bloomed everywhere in spring. Bright flowers climbed trellises, spilled over stone borders, and dotted the dirt paths that wound through the village like roots. The air always smelled of fresh rain and cedar. Winter was harsh here, just like anywhere in this region. Snow piled against the curved houses, the trees once lush with leaves now groan with the weight of the snow piled on them. Every home had a magical fireplace that kept the house warm, though you still needed regular firewood to feed it. The elves of this region were a secluded people. Most rarely left the Republic elves preferred the quiet rhythm of their forests. Some elves did leave those who felt the pull of adventure. They became adventures, scholars or maybe they fell in love beyond our borders. Some even returned to tell their stories of far off land and adventures each of them carried the republic with them.
My mother is a member of the elected council this is simulator congressman in my old country. My father, despite calling himself a "simple knight," had once served in the Golden Elven Knights, one of the most prestigious orders in the Republic. Because of them, I was considered upper class even by Elven standards. Elven society treated both genders equally. If a woman wanted to become a government official, she simply did. If a man wanted to serve in the military or raise children, no one questioned it. It was one of the few things about this world that felt genuinely fair. My parents never talked about it openly, but I always suspected there had been some kind of political upheaval. Something big enough to push us out of the capital and into a small village on the outskirts of the Republic. They acted like it was just a "change of pace," but even as a child, I could tell there was more to the story.
In general, life here is simple honestly not so different from the one I had back on Earth. I was always drawn to animals, no matter the world. Whether I was helping raise chickens, holding a bunny, or feeding the horses in the city, I always felt at peace around them. Mother thought it was beneath someone of our standing, but Father encouraged it. I didn't care what Mother thought anyway. I was going to do what I wanted.
One day, when I was four years old, I felt something hurting. A pulse of pain coming from deep within the woods. I knew wandering into the fog was dangerous, but I went anyway, stumbling through the trees the way only a four‑year‑old could, drawn forward by that strange feeling. I reached a small clearing; I saw him a dire wolf puppy. A rare species in these parts. His fur was pitch‑black, his eyes a vivid purple, and blood dripped from a deep bite on his left paw. And I could hear him. Not with my ears it was with my mind. He was calling for his mother, terrified, while the shadow wolves closed in around him. I could feel his fear and panic.
"Come this way," I whispered. "I'll help you."
Somehow, he understood. My words and the feeling behind them calmed him just enough for him to limp toward me. I told him we would find somewhere safe, even though I was lost myself. I was small, weak, and had no weapon. I was just a stupid four-year-old that wondered into the forest because of a strange connection to a wounded wolf puppy. The shadow wolves found us first. They slipped out of the fog, eyes glowing, teeth bared. I had nothing to defend myself with but I readied myself for a fight. The pup gave a low growl, trying to stand between me and the pack even though he was scared to.
That day, I was lucky. My father burst into the clearing at the last moment. He cut down three wolves in a blink of an eye. The rest fled back into the woods. I had never seen him look like that with fury in his eyes and fear in his voice.
The angriest I had ever heard him he said "What were you thinking, wandering into the forest?"
Then he saw the dire wolf pup.His expression changed. He gave me a long, heavy look.
"You cannot keep a wolf," he said. Especially one that looks that menacing."
I did what any four‑year‑old would do I begged. I promised I would feed him, train him, take care of him. I tried every trick I knew, even ones from my past life. Something had to work. Father drew his dagger, ready to put the puppy out of his misery.
"Please, Father!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. "He does not want to die. He told me so!"
Father froze.
Slowly, he sheathed the dagger. "Then… this is destiny."
When we got home, I bandaged his paw. True to my word, the first thing I did every morning for the next two years was feed him. He grew faster than any normal wolf. When he was full‑grown, he was the size of a horse, all pitch‑black fur and violet eyes. Mother refused to let him sleep in the house. I slept in the barn with him. Every night That I could get away. It annoyed my mother to no end. She hated seeing her son come in covered in dirt and straw, smelling like animals. I could always speak to him really speak. His name, Kage, came from the word for "shadow" in Japanese, a language from my old world. He liked it. I could hear his approval in my mind. Over the years, I realized it wasn't just him. I could speak to most intelligent animals like horses, dogs, sometimes even squirrels if they were calm enough to listen. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. Mother noticed I was always off in my own world, wandering with animals instead of children. When she enrolled me in school, she worried I wouldn't make friends. On the first day, she insisted I bathe and wear proper clothes. I tried to escape I almost made it to the woods before the servants caught me. She definitely didn't want Kage coming with me, so he had to stay behind. I sat in a classroom learning things I already knew. Mother said it was good for me to interact with "something besides animals."
School is where I met Lilly, my best nonanimal friend in this world. She was about my age, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a small frame that made her look younger than she was. Her dream was to become a knight like my father, but her own father hated the idea. He said it wasn't a job for a lady. He was a pompous ass. I told her about my wolf and about how I spent all my time in the woods and how my mother did not like it. Lilly told me she had to practice her swordsmanship in secret because her father wouldn't allow it. She also knew a few holy spells, which surprised me. One day she asked about the wooden cross I wore, the one I carved myself. I told her it was for the one and only God. This world didn't know anything about Christianity, but I still practiced, even in this form and in this world. Lilly did not judge. She just listened. She loved to trace the birthmark on my arm the one shaped like the brand from my old world. She never asked about it. I could tell she is drawn to it somehow I think she just assumed it was a normal birthmark, nothing more. From that point on, I had two best friends: Lilly and Kage. Wherever I went, they followed. And having them with me made the pull of the woods even stronger.
In the end, Mom was right about one thing: I needed to talk to more than just animals. As the years went on, Father tried to teach me swordsmanship, but the only one who truly picked it up was Lilly. I preferred archery. I used to bow‑hunt in my old life, so it didn't take long to learn how to bow‑hunt in this world. I even had the blacksmith install pulleys onto my bow, turning it into a compound bow. It took a bit of trial and error, but the result was stronger and more accurate than the traditional style everyone used in the village. The blacksmith was amazed at what we built. I'm pretty sure he's going to sell a lot of compound bows now. I told him it was just an idea I wanted to try, not knowing the design came straight from my old world. By the time I was seven‑year‑old I ended up becoming an accomplished hunter in my own right. I brought down a few large bucks and more rabbits than I could count, earning a bit of extra money on the side. Of course, my clean and proper mother hated this. I was always dragging fresh fish, rabbits, or some other mess into the house. Dirt on my boots, blood on my sleeves, Leaves and sticks tangled in my hair she said I looked more like a wildling than a little boy.The secret to a good hunt was Kage. He helped me track the prey, moving silently through the woods like a living shadow. And of course, he got fresh meat too. He earned it.
That morning, when I was eight years old, Father decided to take me on a patrol of the woods, the same kind he and the other soldiers did every day. He said it was normal work for keeping the shadow wolf population under control and killing intruders who managed to slip through the fog. It is possible to get past the fog without an enchanted amulet, but it's extremely difficult. Most people get lost or turned around long before reaching the village. Before we left, I checked with Kage. He said he could smell a pack on the move. I told Father, and we headed in that direction, moving silently like any good scouting unit. That is when I saw them: A group of children, no older than me.