The praire

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden rays across the wooden floors. I lay in my cradle, staring at the ceiling, when Roseline entered the room—and completely threw me off. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, glimmering in the soft light, but what really caught me by surprise was her outfit. A pointed witch’s hat perched confidently on her head, its edges adorned with delicate embroidery. She wore a short skirt paired with thigh-high boots, complemented by a fitted blouse that hugged her figure. The entire look was something out of a fantasy anime, and it stunned me into silence—not that I could express much with my limited baby vocabulary. Though personally, she was showing too much skin, even if it was only her thighs.

“Good morning, Raizen,” Roseline said warmly, leaning over to lift me from the cradle.

As she carried me downstairs, I couldn’t help but marvel at the aesthetic of her clothing. It was completely different from anything I’d seen back in my old world. My fingers trailed across the fabric, a feeling deeper than the texture entrancing me. Maybe it was the light playing tricks, but I thought I saw a faint blue glow—too faded to be easily noticed. Another mystery added to the list.

When we reached the living room, Fren was standing near the door. For the first time, I noticed the massive sword strapped to his back. The blade shimmered in the sunlight, intricate carvings running along its surface like threads of hidden power. If Roseline’s outfit had surprised me, Fren’s weapon left me downright speechless—or as speechless as a baby could be.

Was this their usual attire? Did they always carry weapons like this? The questions bubbled in my mind, making me even more curious about the world I’d been reborn into.

“Ready to head out?” Fren asked, turning slightly to adjust the sword on his back. His tone was casual, but the sight of that weapon added an air of seriousness to his words.

Roseline smiled softly, shifting me in her arms before joining him at the door. With me wrapped securely in a blanket, we stepped outside for the first time.

The warm breeze brushed against my face, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil. Fren held me securely, his large hands gentle despite his imposing frame. Roseline walked a few steps behind, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, while the sharp tip of her witch’s hat bobbed lightly as she moved.

It was a short walk from the house to the prairie, but to me, it felt like a grand adventure—a journey beyond the wooden confines I had called home for six long months.

When we arrived, my senses were overwhelmed. The prairie stretched out before me like a vast ocean of green, the grasses swaying rhythmically with the wind. Vibrant wildflowers dotted the landscape, their petals dancing in the sunlight. Butterflies fluttered lazily between the blooms, while the occasional chirp of a bird echoed in the distance.

Fren crouched down, lowering me slightly so I could take in more of the view. “There you go, Raizen,” he said with a smile, his black eyes twinkling with pride. “This is what freedom feels like.”

I couldn’t speak, of course, but my tiny hands reached instinctively toward the grass, brushing against its softness. The sensation was new, almost magical, and I couldn’t help but coo in delight.

Roseline knelt beside me, her silver eyes sparkling as she watched my reaction. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth.

I wanted to agree, to express how awe-inspiring the prairie was, but all I could manage was a wide-eyed stare. The openness, the colors, the sounds—it was unlike anything I had experienced in either of my lives.

But then, the atmosphere shifted.

Fren’s posture stiffened as his hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword. His gaze locked on the horizon, where shadowy figures began to emerge from the treeline. Their forms were indistinct, cloaked in purple auras that shimmered ominously in the sunlight.

Roseline rose to her feet, her expression hardening—not with fear, but with irritation. A staff materialized in her grasp, its intricate design glowing faintly as she pointed it toward the figures, a heavy sigh following.

“So, you think you can ruin my son’s first day out?” she muttered coldly, her voice laced with venom.

The tip of her staff began to glow, a magic circle forming in the air around it. The symbols within the circle pulsed with energy, growing brighter with each passing second. My body instinctively wanted to touch it. My hand extended even though it would never reach, a thrilling rush flowing inside me.

Roseline chanted softly, her words infused with an ancient power that resonated through the air. Fren stepped back slightly, shielding me as the magic circle reached its peak.

With a final word, Roseline unleashed a blast of energy that tore through the prairie, engulfing the shadowy figures in a brilliant explosion. The ground quaked, and the area where the figures had stood was reduced to scorched earth, smoke rising from the aftermath—not to mention the massive crater it left behind.

As the dust settled, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for the beings. Sure, they looked ominous, but did they really deserve the full force of Roseline’s wrath? Before I could dwell on the thought, Roseline’s demeanor shifted completely. She lowered her staff, her expression calm and collected as it faded into light specks flowing like fireflies before disappearing.

“Now then,” she said with a smile, her tone light and cheerful, “where were we?”

I stared at her, completely dumbfounded. Magic existed in this world, and it was far more terrifying—and awe-inspiring—than I had ever imagined.

Fren chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “You could’ve toned it down a little,” he muttered.

Roseline gave him a playful glare. “HUH?! Don’t start with me, Fren. I know if you pulled out that sword, the damage would’ve been even worse.”

As they continued their banter, I couldn’t take my eyes off the smoldering remains of the blast zone. This world was more extraordinary—and more dangerous—than I had ever anticipated. But with danger comes the thrill of living. As long as I’m not strapped to a sick bed, everything else is fine. Plus, I’m having a hard time believing there’s a danger willing to incur my obsessive mother’s wrath.