A New Life

The soft golden light of the twin suns streamed through the carved wooden windows, casting long, flickering shadows across the ornate tapestries lining the walls of the Vasti family estate. Melch—or rather, John inhabiting Melch's body—woke slowly, his body feeling heavy as though he had been submerged underwater for days. His limbs ached, his chest felt tight, and there was a dull, lingering pain in his palm, where the strange injury had been healed.

The smell of lavender filled the room—a calming scent that seemed to waft from the open window. His eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was the figure of a woman sitting beside him, her back straight and her posture almost military. She looked down at him with a mix of irritation and concern. Liliana. His—no, Melch's—mother.

Her gaze bore into him, and John, despite the oddity of his situation, instinctively felt the tension rise within him. He swallowed hard. The stern authority she exuded made his chest tighten further. He wasn't her son, but right now, he had to play the part, or he risked everything.

"You're awake" she said sharply, though the slight relief in her voice was evident. "Finally. Do you know the chaos you've caused?"

Before he could respond, there was a soft knock at the door. It creaked open, and Patricia, one of the estate's long-time maids, entered quietly, balancing a tray in her hands. The aroma of freshly cooked soup wafted into the room, warm and inviting. John's stomach growled loudly, betraying his need despite the discomfort that still lingered.

Patricia offered a small bow before placing the tray on a side table. "Lady Liliana, I've brought the young master's meal. It's light—vegetable and fish soup, the way he likes it. It will help him regain his strength."

Liliana gave a curt nod, her expression softening just a fraction. Patricia hesitated briefly, stealing a glance at Melch before retreating from the room with measured steps. John noticed her gaze lingered, not out of curiosity, but concern—a subtle detail that tugged at his chest.

The soup's aroma filled his senses as Liliana picked up the wooden spoon and stirred it gently, letting the steam rise. John glanced at the food—vegetables chopped finely and swimming in a clear broth, along with flakes of tender white fish that had been poached perfectly. The presentation was simple yet elegant, served in a rustic wooden bowl that spoke of tradition.

"Eat" Liliana commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

John attempted to lift his hands, but his arms felt heavy, and the dull pain in his palm reminded him of the injury. He winced, faltering. Liliana noticed immediately. Without a word, she dipped the spoon into the broth, scooping up a generous portion before bringing it to his lips. Her movements were steady and practiced, though her expression remained unreadable.

He hesitated to be fed by someone, but her sharp gaze made it clear there was no room for refusal. He opened his mouth, letting the warm soup slide down his throat. The taste was subtle but comforting—the natural sweetness of the fish blending with the earthy vegetables and the faint hint of herbs that lingered after each bite. It was nourishment, both for the body and soul, and despite the ache in his chest, it grounded him in this unfamiliar reality.

Spoonful by spoonful, Liliana fed him, her focus unwavering. Though he began to feel full halfway through, her stern expression left no room for protest. "You'll eat all of it" she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate. By the time the bowl was empty, his stomach felt bloated, but he also felt a faint spark of energy returning to his limbs.

Liliana set the empty bowl aside, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her expression hardened. "Now" she began, her voice low and deliberate, "tell me what you were doing in the ancestor's room."

The air seemed to shift, the weight of her question pressing down on him. John's mind raced, cobbling together fragments of Melch's memories. He knew this was a delicate moment—one wrong answer could unravel everything. He couldn't afford that.

"I… I wanted to grab some books" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "To study at night."

Her brows furrowed. "Books? You risked your health, caused panic throughout the household, and entered a restricted area for books?"

John's throat tightened. "I didn't mean to cause trouble" he said, lowering his gaze. "I felt… unwell while I was there. My symptoms flared up, and I couldn't make it back."

Liliana's lips pressed into a thin line as she regarded him carefully, her eyes narrowing. The silence that followed was suffocating, and John felt the weight of her judgment. Finally, she sighed, rubbing her temples.

"You've always been curious, but this recklessness stops now" she said, her tone sharp. "From this moment on, you're not to leave your room without Leif. That's an order."

He nodded, keeping his head bowed. Liliana rose from her chair, straightening her skirt. "I'll leave you to rest."

Her words lingered in the air even after she left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. John let out a shaky breath, the tension draining from his body.

The respite was brief, as the door opened again. This time, it was Leif, his carefree energy filling the room instantly. The boy grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, his sandy hair slightly disheveled.

"You really know how to stir up trouble" Leif said with a teasing lilt. "Seriously, you could've told me. I'd have covered for you."

John managed a weak smile. "I'll keep that in mind next time."

Leif flopped onto the edge of the bed, his legs swinging idly. "You know, Galen's pissed" he added with a chuckle. "Thinks I should've stopped you. Like that's even possible."

At the mention of Galen, John's chest tightened. Melch's memories painted a clear picture of the man—young but fiercely protective, almost militaristic in his devotion to the family. If Galen had been present during the commotion, things would've been far worse. For now, it seemed, Galen was busy elsewhere, likely managing the things in Liliana's stead.

Leif stood suddenly, striding to the windows. He threw it open, letting the fresh afternoon breeze sweep into the room. "Look at that" he said, pointing. "Twin suns. Isn't it amazing?"

John followed his gaze. The twin suns hung in the sky, one golden and the other tinged with crimson. Their light bathed the estate in a surreal glow, painting the rolling fields and distant mountains in hues of amber and rose. It was beautiful, almost otherworldly, but it only deepened the unease gnawing at his mind.

In the quiet that followed, John's thoughts churned. Melch's memories gave him fragments of knowledge but no clarity about the spell. Why was he here? Why had the spell meant to prolong life thrust him into this body, into this world? And why did it feel like there was more to this than chance?

Leif's voice faded into the background as John turned his gaze inward, his thoughts a maelstrom of questions. He closed his eyes, letting the breeze wash over him. The spell's intent had been clear—to cheat death. But the result? That remained a mystery.

As he opened his eyes again, staring at the twin suns on the horizon, a single question burned in his mind:

"Is this truly a second chance, or have I stolen someone else's life?"