Embrace the void, let your mind drift
Gather your spirit and set it free
Release it, let it join ethereal streams
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
The cosmic wheel turns, consciousness spirals
A distant force beckons your presence
Forward, carried by a steady stream
A calling and a will, no barrier can hold
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Within the current's flow, your essence drifts
In the vast emptiness, the maelstrom awaits
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
At its outer ring many streams converge
Release your form and physical bonds
In the endless void, they will only drag you down
The current carries you lighter, though the depths grow more profound
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Currents pull faster, the orbit tightens.
Leave fears behind, and weighty thoughts
In the endless void, they will only drag you down
The current carries you lighter, though the depths grow more profound
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
The spiral narrows, the currents gripping you firmly
Let go of all pretense, cut all connections
In the endless void, they will only drag you down
The current carries you lighter, though the depths grow more profound
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
The vortex constricts, pulling you to its core
Leave attachments behind, and your name
In the endless void, they will only drag you down
The current carries you lighter, though the depths grow more profound
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Turning into a rapid spin, the current churns violently
Surrender your regrets, abandon your dreams
In the endless void, they will only drag you down
The current carries you lighter, though the depths grow more profound
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
The maw, steep walls, leading into the abyss
Relinquish your legacy, surrender your destiny
In the endless void, they will only drag you down
The current carries you lighter, though the depths grow more profound
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Regrets and suffering
Anguish and despair
In thought and memory
In spirit and purpose
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Let it dissolve in the endless void
Where the rivers and streams
Converge.
Renew.
Onward and flow
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Transformed, purified
Identity unbound
Drifting to new purpose
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
For what you were, is no more
For what you are, is becoming
For what you'll be, is unwritten
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Beckoned upward, into the endless expanse
Beckoned outward, into realms of boundless forms
Beckoned inward, into the vast untamed oceans
Beckoned downward, deep into the heart of creation
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
The choice is yours
Fill the void
? Hnnnnghmmmmmhuuuuuheeeeeeaaaaahmmmmm...?
Liriane came into the world on a crisp, clear spring night. Winter had just come to an end, the last remnants of snow in the process of melting. Left behind was a chill in the air that seeped through every crevice of her shabby new home.
The dim glow of a single, sputtering candle cast gloomy shapes upon the uneven walls, while the ragged breathing of the mother filled the small space with a desperate rhythm.
Liriane's body was a mere echo of her former self, her tiny limbs flailed weakly, but with an intrinsic desire to regain lost strength. There were no loud cries, as would be common with a newborn, but her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the only testament to the resettled spirit that smoldered within that frail new vessel.
As the midwife was in the process of wrapping the newborn child into some shabby rags, another icy breeze swept past the wooden planks, nipping at the fragile form swaddled inside the threadbare blanket. The newborn's senses, raw and untamed, were assaulted by the stark contrast to her past life, causing the baby's lips to tremble and release a feeble cry.
"What kind of pathetic cry was that! Aren't newborns supposed to be louder?" An aggravated father was standing next to the bed, shouting, "Don't tell me those months of preparation were all for a waste!"
His discontent as palpable as the cold seeping into their bones. "Should've been a son…" he muttered under his breath, the words, a toxic mantra, threatening to taint whatever sliver of happiness left that might have been kindled by this birth within the harsh reality of their existence.
The midwife, a seasoned looking woman, responded calmly, ”Now Now, calm down Azimir. Her limbs are moving as they should be and she has a voice, even if a weak one. That's all we need for now. It's no surprise to me that she is a little bit on the weaker side when looking at the mother." She threw Azimir a stern look.
The father's shadow was looming over the infant, his eyes reflecting a tumultuous mix of regret and calculation. In his gaze, Liriane was not just a child, but a potential savior for his future finances or yet another mouth to feed, a burden on shoulders already bowed by the weight of broken promises and squandered opportunities.
"What's that supposed to mean Clara?" Azimir threateningly turned around to face the midwife, a stout woman in her mid-30s with rosy cheeks and brown hair pulled back in a tight bun.
"Are you trying to put the blame on me?! I've given everything I could muster! Yet, it's never enough for this damned curse of a life!" His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his jaw twitching with suppressed rage.
Unimpressed, Clara maintained her stance, her usually kind but stern face was drenched in sweat, showing fatigue. But her posture embodied the defiance of a seasoned midwife and she was more than ready to give him a piece of her mind.
"Well Yes Azimir! The man is usually responsible for bringing enough food to the table for his family, which you clearly failed at! Your daughter needs warmth and milk, not your foul temper and empty pockets!"
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Pulling his right hand through his greasy black hair, Azimir grimaced. ”You talk like you have the faintest idea of how difficult my life has been over the past year! Business has been going slow—”
The midwife scoffed. "You mean your shady dealings and scams? What was the latest scheme you and your acquaintances have tried? Was it the new drug from the capital or was it that holy trinket that supposedly gives you eternal youth and a spirited mind?”
In the corner of the room, Elvia cradled Liriane closer to her chest, a protective barrier against the bitterness that filled the air. Her bright blue eyes, though dulled by exhaustion, flashed with a silent plea for peace. The comfort of sleep was already threatening to take her into a deep slumber, her eyes slowly closing, her breath calming.
Yet, nestled in her mother's weak embrace, Liriane stirred. Even in her vulnerability, there was a will, a force that would not yield to the crushing pressure of weakness and despair. She had just been reborn and her journey had only just begun.
Liriane felt the vibrations of discord seep into her consciousness. Though her body remained frail, her spirit was quick to awaken. Tendrils of her awareness began to latch onto the conflict that brewed above her. She gurgled softly, her tiny fingers curling into fists as if to pummel those who had woken her from her slumber and finally, her eyes began to open.
Slowly, her first conscious thoughts began to trickle through her mind, "What—?! Where—am?— I? What's— going on?! …So loud.” Her sensitive ears were ringing, adding to her total confusion and she was rightfully upset. Clara and Azimir had continued to argue, totally oblivious to the babe stirring right next to them.
Liriane's vision, clouded by her recent birth, began to clear, slowly revealing the somber scene surrounding her. Her blue eyes scanned the room, absorbing the grim textures of her future impoverished life, the chipped wood of the bed, the threadbare blankets, and the wooden walls surrounding them, threatening to bend and break at any moment.
Yet, even a midst this stark reality, Liriane's honed mind, found a foothold. She began to scrutinize the faces, etching the lines of hardship into her memory alongside the warmth of her mother's skin and the acrid fear and frustration exuding from her father, slowly making a picture of the whole situation.
As Liriane gained more awareness about her surroundings she slowly started to understand what was going on, "Ugh. I guess I got lucky then… pretty shabby cottage though… and with people shouting nonsense I can't understand, sigh. But I wonder why…"
Liriane tried to remember the circumstances of her rebirth, but every time she thought she got a grasp on a coherent memory, it dissolved as if she was trying to grab at mist. She couldn’t even remember her name. Liriane believed to recognize patterns and shapes emerging from the fog, only for them to dissolve when she focused on them.
It felt like all her memories and experiences of her past, the building blocks of her personality, were all covered by a thick blanket of fog. It was like standing on top of a skyscraper, surrounded by nothing but a see of mist. Like a skyscraper her personality stood steadfast, build on a solid foundation. She just couldn't see what it looked like, or what it was made off.
"Whelp! Looks like my memory is screwed, let’s focus on something else. Sigh…" It was a little much for her. Her mind felt like scrambled eggs and on top of that she found herself in a completely unfamiliar situation. "I'll take it for a restart I guess. Well, to be honest… this place sucks, but I am too fucking tired to really care right now."
And without further ado, Liriane closed her eyes and cuddled herself into her mothers embrace, pushing all future problems and questions to the Liriane of tomorrow. She had long ago learned to just go with the flow. Time was precious, but there was no use in wasting it with banging your head at useless worries.
Relatively soon after Liriane had drifted off to sleep, Azimir and Clara got done with their argument, Clara subsequently packed up her things and left shortly after. Left alone, Azimir proceeded to pace around the room seemingly in deep thought.
A quiet mumbling could be heard, permeated by a myriad of different curses and swear words. But after a while he seemed to have come to a decision and without any further notice, he walked right out the door into the depths of night, leaving mother and child on their own.
* * *
When Liriane woke up the next morning it took her a moment to regain her bearings. It doesn't happen every day that somebody gets reborn… or does it? Liriane wasn't really sure what was normal anymore, it was all so confusing. Her situation was strange to say the least and there was definitely something fishy going on... "Speaking of food, damn I am hungry!"
She quickly took in her surroundings, looking for a source of food, but none was found. Only then did she notice that she was still cradled in her mother's arms, who was reclining in her bed. "Oh wait… what am I supposed to eat anyways?"
Another moment went by as Liriane’s mind approached the obvious conclusion and then it hit her: "Oh no… I need milk don't I?" If she could have, Liriane would have facepalmed that very moment. Instead she took a moment to contemplate her life choices and possible alternatives, but in the end she came up empty.
She looked back up to her mother. "Ugh. Let's get this over with." After another short moment of burying her shame and building up some courage, she began to whine as loud as she could, because… what else was she supposed to do?
Elvia, who had been resting with her eyes closed, let out a deep sigh and after gathering some strength she leaned over and picked up her daughter from the cradle. "Shhh it's alright girl, I know you are hungry, come on here." Elvia went on to hold her close to her small chest.
Liriane, without understanding a word, wouldn't let herself be told twice and started sucking like a champ, only having to swap sides after a short while, because of an obvious lack of milk.
"I'm sorry darling, I know I don't have enough, but Azimir promised me his business will soon bring in some income to feed us." Nestled in the crook of Elvia's arm and ignoring her mother's gibberish, Liriane finished her lackluster meal and gazed up at her mother's face.
She discerned the telltale signs of a recent life marred by silent suffering. Elvia's pale skin stretched thinly over high cheekbones and the lines etched into her forehead spoke of worry that never quite faded, a permanent fixture etched into her expression. Dark circles underlined her mother's blue eyes.
Strands of Elvia's chestnut-like hair lay limp against her shoulders. It lacked luster, much like the colorless fabrics that adorned her thin frame. Her clothes hung loose on her frame as though they were remnants from a time when life had been kinder and more filling. The fabric was worn thin in places, patches sewn over patches in a testament to her family's dire straits.
As Elvia whispered sweet nothings to Liriane, coaxing a sense of calm into their little corner of hardship, Liriane listened. She was trying to commit every little detail to memory, every single word and its possible meaning. There really wasn't anything else to do until sleep would claim her yet again.
And surely, after a while the room fell back into silence, save for the occasional creaking of wood and distant sounds drifting through their meager shelter's walls.
* * *
The first week of Liriane's life in this strange, kinda medieval like world, unfolded like a paralyzed dream. Her tiny body, feeble and frail, could do little but yield to the basic demands of survival and that was: sleeping, feeding and well... other uncomfortable needs.
Meanwhile she listened to any conversation happening around her. But all of those words swirling around her were just a garbled stream of nonsense that would take quite some time to decipher. But if there was one thing Liriane had an abundance of, it was time, at least she hoped so.
Days blended into one another with little distinction. The small room with its rough-hewn wooden walls became the entire universe to Liriane's eyes. Azimir came and went, his presence like a dark cloud that occasionally cast a shadow over her.
Elvia's gentle touch though, as she carried Liriane around, was comforting. A whisper of warmth in the cool air that filled their humble dwelling. Clara, the midwife, who came by for checkups on child and mother, was a rare visitor whose footsteps echoed with a joyful proclamation of an additional and filling meal for Liriane.
During her more uneventful wake moments Liriane just lay there, swaddled in her mothers embrace, her mind buzzing with questions and theories. What force was responsible for plucking her from her past life and dropping her into this bizarre existence?
Her memory was still a foggy mess, but she clearly knew what things were. Whenever she looked at something new, its name in her old language, function and properties instantly sprang to mind. For example when she had looked her mother for the first time in the eyes, a lot of information had suddenly manifested.
From one moment to the other she knew, that eyes were a complex organ containing the cornea, lens, iris, retina, and various fluids that work together to capture and process light into visual information that's sent to the brain via the optic nerve. Liriane just couldn't recall where that information had come from.
Initially, she believed her ability to recall information was limited to direct observation. However, after examining the room and its occupants, then processing all the recalled information, she discovered something else: The longer she focused on a particular topic, the more context-related memories would surface.
Another metaphor, for what was happening, would be a tree covered in fog and Liriane was probing along its branches, discovering more and more related memories. But one subject remained entirely obscured to her: Whenever she thought about her old life, she came up empty. Besides the point that she knew she had lived at least once before, she could recall nothing about her past life, not even her name.
Funny enough, instead of her past life, Liriane had managed to recall some stories of reincarnation instead. Tales spun about souls reborn into new bodies and into new worlds. Yet to Liriane it felt like, her past self had never given such ideas any serious credence. But now, faced with inexplicable reality, she couldn't help but wonder, had she just forgotten?
"And the most important question of them all, does magic exist now? Or is it just some divine intervention? But that's magic too, or is it not?" She scoffed inwardly at the thought. Her skepticism ran deep, even in the face of this undeniable miracle.
Thinking about reincarnation had quickly led to the topic of magic, but Liriane could only remember magic in relation to fictional stories. The stories were many, a fascinating amount with different rules for causality and consequence.
And how did she know they all had been fiction? Because along with those memories always came the strong emotion of longing and regret, but the distinct feeling that those stories were all but made up.
But from that moment on she would diligently watch out for every little sign of the supernatural, but for now she would be disappointed. There was nothing around her showing any signs of magic yet. Well, except her very existence. "Man, this is so annoying! I just hope I didn't just turn back in time into some medieval timeline, now that would suck. Oh please let there be magic…"
And why was Liriane so certain about the current timeline? Well, she wasn't. But the old fashioned clothing her parents and the midwife wore, the wooden shack, the small fire in one corner and the cooking spot above it, were an indication if nothing else.
Sadly Liriane's ability to map out her surrounding world was rather limited from her stationary vantage point. The pattern of her life was primarily dictated by the rising and setting of the sun, the simple domestic routine Elvia followed with weary resignation and the coming and going of Azimir, for whatever errands he was doing.
Elvia's demeanor remained unchanged through it all; quiet, seemingly resigned to whatever fate had dealt her, but happy about her little baby. There was love, in every gentle touch and hushed lullaby, but it was a love tinged with sadness. Throughout this time, Liriane lay mostly silent except for some soft coos and cries when her regular hunger pangs struck.
Liriane had yet to figure out their exact circumstances, but the way her apparent father acted towards her and her mother, together with their dire housing arrangements, painted a rather somber picture.
"Sigh…" Liriane let out one of the very few, universally understood, non-verbal cues, that she had used in her old life with great abandon. She already saw herself falling back into her old habit of overusing it.
"I really do wonder. Did I get lucky by being reborn, or did I get unlucky by being reborn in these kind of circumstances? Ahh. Whatever. Gotta deal with it now the way I got it handed to me… If there just wasn't this freezing cold! Man this sucks! Mom can barely keep me warm and that small fire only helps so little!"
Liriane moved her limbs, wiggled her cold toes and fingers, before cuddling herself as close to her mother as she could. The movement brought a little additional warmth and also some very needed relief, as she felt uncomfortably constrained by the small size of her new body.
"Well I guess my biggest issue is going to be, not to go insane from the sheer boredom of having to go through the whole child phase once again. But this time completely conscious of what's going on around me. I guess the saying
Liriane looked up at the ceiling. "Heh, but I guess
Yet moments later warm hands wrapped around the child's face, wiping away the tear and rubbing her cheeks to rekindle them with warmth. Her mother hummed a quiet but happy melody, as she resettled Liriane and tucked the blankets snugly back around her small frame."
"Sigh…"
* * *