A Second Breath

Part 1

— Hey, you! Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?
What happened? Why is everything blurry? I don’t know where I am. I feel like I’m being rushed somewhere. Fast. Something hard and creaky under my body—a stretcher. Above me, blinding white ceiling lights flash by, smearing into one harsh, burning blur.

— Faster! His blood pressure is dropping! Where’s the surgeon?! — I hear sharp, frantic commands. The voices are muffled, distorted by masks. This isn’t the quiet, monotonous life I’m used to.
My breathing slows. I think I’m losing consciousness. Is this really how it ends?

— Does he have a ruptured spleen? Abdomen is rigid. Pulse weak but stable. We need rapid stabilization, prepare the operating room!
I think I remember what happened. It happened in an instant. I was sitting in the back seat of a taxi, watching the rain-soaked city. I was thinking about how my new book finally arrived. That I needed to order new medication. Ordinary, dull, familiar thoughts.
Then—the crash. Not even a sound, but the feeling that the world around me was torn apart. How did I not die on the spot?

— Get him on oxygen!
— Can you see? How many fingers? Can you speak?
Speak? I can barely breathe. Words drown in that swelling, suffocating noise. My vision narrows to a tiny, dark point. I feel unbearable pain in my side.

— Do you understand where you are?!
Hey, why are you shouting?
— Blood pressure is dropping, start transfusion!
— Can you hear me? Do you remember your name?!

In that moment, surrounded by all this frantic energy, by all this will to save me, I feel complete, ironic helplessness. I, who dreamed of a happy life, am now just a piece of flesh others are trying to keep in this world. And that ringing finally becomes unbearable. I fall into darkness.

The voices grow distant with every second. I can’t breathe anymore.
The light slips farther and farther from my eyes; I can’t see anything anymore. Am I… dying? I still haven’t done so much.

— …
— Elvarin, alasse, i'nion athrad ven.
I hear voices again. Guess it’s too early for me to die.
— Álavë leryë, menë terevá.

I slowly begin to open my eyes. God, it’s bright! Gradually, my vision returns to normal.
The moment I open them, I see some silver-haired man with a strange smile. His face is pale and stern, with sharp, aristocratic features. He’s dressed in a simple but expensive dark silk cloak, belted at the waist with leather. What is he even doing here? He says something in a melodic language I’ve never heard in my life:
— Ila i'hyll, qualta i'galad tîw hen úmienya.

Wait… where even am I? I was just in a hospital, and this definitely isn’t an operating room. A small, dimly lit room made of stone and wood, animal hides on the walls. At the far end is a fireplace, and above it some kind of deer skull. Everything looks medieval, even the wooden crib I’m lying in looks ancient.

Too many questions. How did I get here? Why am I alive? And who is this strange man staring at me?

I look around. I’ve really been brought somewhere… or maybe I’m hallucinating in some dying fever dream. Judging by everything, this is the Middle Ages. A girl sits beside me. Her hair is the color of moonlight, shining like metal and flowing over her shoulders, shimmering in the light. It looks cool to the touch, yet soft and silky. She’s unbelievably beautiful. Her eyes are deep sapphire blue, so bright and vivid you could drown in them. But she looks exhausted.

I try to speak, but I can’t. Instead of words, only a loud, meaningless wail comes out. I try to move and look at my hands…
Why do they look like a baby’s?!

Slowly, it starts to click. Too many coincidences. Looks like I survived—but somehow ended up in a baby’s body. Is this… reincarnation? What nonsense. It feels too real to be a dream.

And if this were just a dream, why does everything feel so vivid? I look again at the people in the room. A man around twenty-five, and a girl no older than twenty. Judging by everything, she’s my mother. The tall man beside her picks me up. I even let out a startled cry.

But he doesn’t seem to notice my shock. I catch a glimpse of tears in his eyes. He says something else to the girl, then gently places me in her arms and rushes out of the room.

So… it’s not a dream.
The shock is absolute. How is this even possible?! I’m not in intensive care. I’m not in a coma. I’m not in my old, broken body.

But if God gave me a second chance, then I’ll use it—
and I’ll start a new life.
A real one.

Part 2

Several months passed. To my surprise, I learned to walk quickly. I still can’t get used to my new body. It’s small, helpless, and incredibly flexible. My arms and legs, which in my previous life were nonfunctional, now twitch with uncontrollable strength. I can move them, I can feel them. It’s absolute freedom, bordering on physical terror. It’s so unusual for me. In my past life, I had been disabled since childhood, so I never knew what it felt like to move on my own legs instead of sitting in a wheelchair.

I lived in a small village, in the outskirts of Lorelin. I had never heard of such a city before. Life here was quiet and peaceful. My father, whose name was Alak, constantly went to the city—he probably worked there. Elvarin, that’s my mother’s name, worked in the field near our house, though it was more like a small garden bed. I also had a sister, named Lira, five years older than me. The names here were quite unusual. I also got a strange name — Eiron. It sounds kind of nice, but I’ve never heard names like these before.

Overall, I was satisfied with my life, although sometimes I missed my computer. But here there wasn’t just no computer — there wasn’t even electricity. And what am I supposed to do here? They don’t even let me go outside.

I was slowly learning the local language. But it didn’t resemble any European language, and the letters here were strange, more like hieroglyphs than letters. Maybe I reincarnated somewhere in Asia?

In the evenings, my parents read me different tales that were very different from the ones I knew. They told stories about orcs, demons, and Chthonians. The last one had a particularly interesting story. It said that Chthonians were a people of aurions who renounced their king, and eight thousand years ago, under the patronage of Dardan, started a great war. But they talked about it as if it were real, constantly repeating how evil and vile these aurions were. Probably, due to lack of education, they believed in such legends — nothing surprising for these times.

But there was something strange about my parents’ ears. When I reincarnated, I didn’t pay much attention to it, but their ears were shaped like aurions’. When I looked at myself in the mirror in the bedroom, I saw the exact same ears. Did I really reincarnate into another world, where elves exist? I immediately pushed those thoughts away, but the next situation forced me to believe the opposite.

Part 3

It was raining. Elvarin was telling me and my sister another fairy tale while sitting by the fireplace. I was looking out the window, thinking about whether I would ever be able to return to my own time. The rain was getting stronger every minute. The trees and the crops in the garden were swaying under the wind. The wind was so strong it felt like it could rip the trees out by the roots at any moment. In my previous life, I also loved sitting by the window in my wheelchair, watching the rain.

But suddenly, near the neighbor’s house, a silhouette appeared — no, two silhouettes. One of them was leaning heavily on the other’s shoulder. What were they doing outside in weather like this? While I was thinking about it, I didn’t even notice how they started approaching our house. Were they coming here? What did they want? When they got closer, I was able to examine them. Two men: one with short hair, the other with medium-length hair. The one leaning on the other looked terrible. His hair was disheveled and covered with a layer of soot. His clothes were torn and almost burned. I also noticed that he could barely walk, and with great difficulty he was dragging his burned legs while moving with the other man. When they reached our doorstep, I shouted:

— Mom, look!
— What is it, Eiron?
— Someone’s here!

As soon as I said that, someone knocked on the door. Elvarin quickly stood up from the chair and went to the entrance. When she opened the door, I could fully see how awful that man in ripped clothes looked. He seemed to be on the verge of death. What happened to him to make him end up like this?

While I was thinking about it, Elvarin quickly sat him down on a chair in the hallway and began examining him. The man who brought him said that he had been struck by lightning. Tough guy, to survive a direct lightning strike. But why did he bring him here? Shouldn’t he have taken him to a hospital first?

After Elvarin finished examining him, she placed her hand on his head and closed her eyes. What was she doing? Her hand started to glow with a pure, pulsating light.

His wounds began to heal… My mother’s hand glowed with a soft, living light — not like a lamp or a flashlight, but something alive. And right before my eyes, the charred skin of that man… began to regenerate. The wounds closed. Torn flesh knit back together. Burned areas brightened, turning into normal skin.

I literally stopped breathing. My eyes hurt because I was afraid to even blink and miss a second of it. This wasn’t medicine. Not advanced technology. This was…

— What the hell is this?! — I whispered.

A few seconds later — SECONDS — the man who just a minute ago had looked like a walking piece of burnt meat straightened up. He stood. He breathed. He moved. As if nothing had happened to him at all. Only his burned clothes reminded me this wasn’t a dream.

My jaw literally dropped. My brain refused to accept it. In my previous life, the best medicine could only stabilize, stitch, perform transfusions, surgeries… months or even years of recovery. And here? Just a glowing hand.

The man thanked Elvarin, paid her several silver coins — as if this were just some ordinary service like shoe repair — and left.

What was that? Magic. Real magic. I’m definitely not dreaming… Or maybe after the accident I fell into a coma and this whole reincarnation is just my dying brain imagining things?

I desperately tried to find a rational explanation… and failed.

But if this isn’t a dream, then that means… this really is a different place. A different reality. Not the past, not Earth… A world where a shattered body can be healed in a minute. A world where the impossible is just a service you pay for.

Wait, if Elvarin can use magic… then that means I can too? It all seems too fantastical. But if Elvarin can do it, then I most likely can as well! God, how grateful I am for this second life! Looks like I’ll finally be able to live the kind of life I dreamed of, back when I was a disabled kid reading fantasy novels.

Part 4

A year passed. Elvarin, as always, was either in the kitchen or working in the fields. As I managed to find out, she was a healer. Sometimes sick people came to us, and she healed them in just a few moments. Alak was also a healer, but originally he had studied fire magic. He worked in the city, so he was often not at home.

I was already beginning to understand the local language quite well. I had even started to pronounce my first words. My parents were very surprised when I started speaking at such an early age. They were happy and kept saying that I would become a genius. They simply didn’t know that I was far from a child. I wonder how they would react if they found out that their little son was actually an adult man? But I think it’s better if they never know that.

They even allowed me to go outside, though only under the supervision of Elvarin or Lira. And I wasn’t allowed to go farther than ten meters from the house. Though I guess I can understand them — after all, I’m only one year old. When I went outside, I was finally able to properly see the village I lived in. It was an ordinary village with simple stone-and-wood houses. But they had one notable feature: every yard was full of plants — trees, flowers, bushes, and garden beds. Apparently, elves really love vegetation.

By the way, elves here are called differently. There are Aurions, the classic elves with light hair. I currently belong to this Aurion race. But besides them, there are two other types of Aurions: the Sindar and the Chthonians.

Apart from Aurions, there are many other races here, such as orcs, goblins, Westmari, Asgards, Siveryans, dwarves, Terr-Ain, Var-Ghul, Nakkir, Neytmar, Ultgors, Terricons, and Zephyron. It’s insane how many races there are here, and all of them live on the continent of Asperra. And there is also Tenebra. This world is much bigger than I thought.

Part 5

Since Elvarin was a healer, I tried to ask her about the magic she possessed.
I chose a moment when Elvarin was working in the garden bed and Lira wasn’t home. I had to play the role of the perfectly curious one-year-old child. I crawled to her, trying to make my movements look clumsy but fast (internally I was rejoicing that my new legs even listened to me at all).

I sat down next to her in the shade of a bush and, trying my best to sound like a child, began my interrogation.
— Ma-ma! — I said, stretching the word to sound cute. — Why… did your hand glow?

Elvarin put aside the small shovel and smiled at me, gently stroking my white hair.
— You mean when we helped that traveler? — she stroked my head. — That, my dear, is called magic. You’ll learn more about it when you go to school.

— But… how? — I pretended to be genuinely confused. — How did you do it? Is it like in dad’s stories? Can you make fire?
I frowned, hinting that this was something very interesting to a child. I needed her to reveal all the types of magic to me herself.

Elvarin shook her head, her pointed ears twitching slightly.
— Yes, you can create fire too. There are many kinds of magic.

— And what… other kinds of magic… are there? — I looked at her from under my brows, pretending to be desperately curious but not wanting to upset mom.
I looked at her with wide open eyes, showing complete childish innocence.

— Of course there are. Our world is full of magic, my little ray of light. There is destruction magic, like the fire you asked about. There is healing magic… And there is alteration. But all of this, Eiron, requires great power, which we call mana.
She looked at me, searching for approval. I nodded, showing that I understood “big and important things.”

— And mana… do I have it?
I had been waiting for this question. I needed her to explain about genetic predisposition and potential.

— Of course you do. You’re our son… And since your father and I are strong mages, you will surely receive a large reserve. But it’s a long path, little one. You just don’t know how to direct it yet.

I buried my face in her dress, hiding a triumphant grin. A large reserve, you say? Excellent. That means I have a chance to master this damned yet fascinating destruction magic. But for now…

— Mama… why can only Aurions heal? — I asked, gently rubbing my cheek against her soft fabric.

Elvarin once again put the shovel aside and took me in her arms, seating me on her lap. Her thin, aristocratic features softened.
— My little smart one! All intelligent races can wield magic, Eiron. But it depends on how much mana nature placed into their bodies at birth. To us, children of nature, — she lightly touched her pointed ears, — goes the most. We are the most gifted. That’s why there are so many healers and great mages among Aurions.

— And others? Why… can only Aurions heal? Don’t humans… know how?
— Of course they do! Humans are a very strong race; they come right after us in giftedness! It’s just harder for them than for us. They have little of this mana, — she said the word with slight superiority. — Look:

Elvarin raised her finger.
— When you learn a spell, you read an incantation — it helps mana take the right form, like a mold for cookies. But true mastery is silent magic.

— And what is that?
— It’s when you can create a spell using only thought, without words. It’s not easy. Only those who have good magical potential can learn it. First, you read the spell to feel it. And then, after long training, you learn to skip the words and do it with thought alone.

I nodded, memorizing everything. So, silent magic is a sign of talent that must be developed. Good. If you’re unlucky with pure mana reserve, you can compensate with discipline and intelligence.

— So if I train a lot, I’ll be able to cast without words?
— If you have the potential, you will! And you definitely do. Your sister Lira has already started to master it! And you, you’ll be even better.

I clenched my fists. Healing, healing, only healing!

— And why… won’t dad teach me fire? I want to be strong so I can protect you!
I made the most serious face I could, trying to look like a young knight.

— Your father does wield fire, yes. But you must understand, Eiron, that we need to be very careful choosing our path. If our family is strong in healing, then your talent will be in it too. If you spend your mana on another, destructive magic, your greatest strength — healing — will not develop properly. This is very important. Our path is the path of life, my little Aurion.

I took a deep breath, realizing that I shouldn’t push any further. She had given me all the theory I needed.
— I promise, mom, — I muttered, trying to look obedient. — I’ll learn… to heal.

Part 6

A little over three years had passed since I was reborn into this world. During this time, I had already fully learned to walk and could even run. Now I was allowed to go farther than the doorstep, so I could play with the neighboring children. But I had absolutely no interest in that. After all, I wasn’t a child, so I began learning to read in the Aurion language. The letters and grammar were very complicated, but in my past life I spoke four languages, so even this one I managed to learn fairly quickly.

My parents often praised me and constantly told Lira to take example from me. Lira wasn’t as successful in studies as I was, so she was always upset when I was held up as the standard. I even felt a bit sorry for her; my parents simply didn’t know that I was actually over thirty. My success in learning could easily be explained by the fact that I had experience from a past life. Lira didn’t have that; she was growing up as a normal child without any special talents.

Despite that, she treated me well — I’d even say kindly. She watched over me when our parents weren’t home. She played with me, read to me, and taught me to read. Without her, I wouldn’t have learned the language so quickly. She had recently enrolled in a magic school, so she could also read and write fairly well.

Once I learned how to read, I asked my sister to teach me magic.
— Lira, please, can you teach me to use magic?

She looked at me in surprise, then sighed and said:
— Eiron, you’re still too young for magic. When you turn five, they’ll send you to a magic school. That’s where you’ll learn to cast spells.

— But please, sister, I already know how to read, and waiting until I turn five is so long.

I tried to look as pleading as possible, as if I were about to cry. I can only imagine how ridiculous it looked from the outside: a man over thirty making puppy eyes like a child. But I hoped it would work — I couldn’t wait to learn magic.

Lira looked at me for a while, then glanced upward, lost in thought. After about a minute she replied:
— Well, fine, just this once, I’ll teach you a couple of simple spells.

— Yay! Thank you, Lira!

— Just don’t tell our parents; it’s still too early for you to study magic.

— Okay, I won’t say anything, I promise!

Yes, it worked! Finally, I would get to feel what it was like to cast magic.

After I said that, Lira stood up and went into another room. A few minutes later she returned with a book. It must have been hundreds of years old. It wasn’t very large; probably only a couple hundred pages. From what I understood, it was a book with simple beginner spells.

Lira sat down in front of me while I sat on the floor, listening attentively.
— So, let’s start with the basics. Our entire world is made of magical particles called microns. Mountains, plants, animals — everything is made of microns. Magic is the manipulation of microns.

So, these microns are something like atoms in my world? Everything living and non-living consists of these particles.

— Also, mastery of magic is divided into ranks.

She sat down in front of me on the floor. I sat there with the most serious expression a child could possibly make.
— There are six stages, and they show how strong you are and how many spells you’ve mastered.

I listened, nodding actively. In my head, this immediately turned into an RPG skill tree.

— The first stage is Beginner. — Lira raised one finger. — It’s the very start. You only know the simplest spells. At this level, you can heal a small cut or create a tiny fireball. The second stage is Intermediate. — She raised another finger, pride appearing on her face. — This is already serious. You can quickly heal fractures or create stronger fireballs that can scare away a wolf. Our school prepares us for this rank. You spend a lot of Mana, but the spells become useful. The third stage is Advanced. — Lira bent another finger. — That’s the level Mom is at! An advanced mage can heal severe injuries that would kill an ordinary person.

— And the rest?

— It gets harder after that. Fourth is Special Rank. — Her voice grew softer, almost reverent. — That’s Dad’s level. He can heal nearly fatal injuries and works in the Mages’ Guild.

— And the other two ranks? — I was genuinely curious.

— Master is next. Someone who can fight an entire squad alone or stop a small natural disaster. But the most interesting is Legend. — Lira looked at me with awe. — Those are the greatest mages! They say only one out of five thousand mages reaches that level. They can change battles, destroy armies, and create spells no one has ever seen.

— And what level are you?

— I’m still at Beginner level, but next year I’ll be studying Intermediate healing magic.

— Do you study other kinds of magic too?

— Yes, but our school specializes in healing magic; we also study a bit of alteration magic.

— Lira, will you teach me destructive magic?

— Right now we’ll only study healing. Destruction is too early for you, and besides, I’m not very good at it.

— Please, sister!

— No. Either we do it my way, or you’ll wait to learn magic in school.

How annoying. What do I need healing for? I want destructive spells, like in an MMORPG. But right now I really didn’t have a choice. Either I listened to her, or I’d have to wait another year and a half. And I didn’t want to wait that long.

— Fine, your way then.

— That’s better. Now listen carefully; this is very important. All spell incantations are written in the Runic Sphere.

— What’s that?

— The Runic Sphere, or the Spherian language, is the language created by the god Spherum himself. Every sound in this language perfectly matches the flow of Mana. When you read an incantation, you don’t need to think about the shape of the spell — the words create it for you. After that, you must guide Mana into the limb you plan to use, and direct the Mana there. The incantation is already a finished instruction for Mana. That’s why casting without it is so hard.

— So I can cast from any limb? Even my leg?

— Yes, but no one uses their legs to cast. It’s inconvenient and inefficient. Everyone casts using their hands.

If magic can be cast from any limb… does that mean I could cast with a third leg? Yeah, stupid idea. Probably better not test that.

— If you don’t have any more questions, let’s begin. Read this spell aloud and direct the Mana into your hand.

Lira handed me the book and showed me what to read. The lines were written in the familiar Aurion script, but the words themselves were Spherian. I took the book in my right hand and stretched my left hand forward. Now I just had to do what she said: read the spell aloud and direct Mana into my free hand.

— Vahra Nul Skahr, Zahn Ruhn Grahn, Viita Reka Sol-Ahn! (Let the pain fade like a shadow, let the sickness melt like smoke, let life return like dawn.)

As soon as I began reading, a slight tremor ran through my body. Then I tried directing Mana into my right hand — and as soon as I did, my hand began to glow with a soft green light. I could feel it — I could feel the Mana gathering in my arm and then flowing to my fingertips. Pleasant, yet strangely unsettling. I continued channeling Mana into my hand for another few seconds after finishing the spell. But then my strength began to drain rapidly. Apparently, my Mana was running out. I cut off the flow, surprisingly easily. When I finished, I noticed I felt a little weaker, but I still had plenty of strength — or Mana — left.

— Did it work? — I asked Lira.

— Yes. Now let’s go outside and try to heal silently.

We went outside. The weather was wonderful. Lira approached a flower growing in our yard and slightly bent its stem. Then she turned to me and said:
— Now try healing this flower silently.

I approached the flower. Stretching my right hand toward it, I closed my eyes. Okay, now I just needed to channel Mana into my hand and imagine healing it. Nothing complicated, I thought — but something went wrong. A familiar tremor ran through my body, but this time I couldn’t direct it into my hand. What happened? Did I really fail at silent casting? For ten seconds I struggled by the flower, trying to push Mana into my hand. But nothing worked; the flower remained broken.

— I can’t do it.

— Try using both hands; it’ll be easier.

Would two hands really make it easier? Well, I’d try. I stood by the flower again, stretched both hands forward, and concentrated Mana in them. Then I closed my eyes and pictured the spell. A few seconds later that same inner tremor returned. I tried to guide it into my arms while imagining the spell. A moment later I felt Mana smoothly flowing into my hands. It ran through them like blood through veins, finally reaching my fingers. At the same time, I grew tired quickly. My head began to ache. Was that normal?

I stood motionless for about five seconds, constantly channeling Mana. As the headache worsened, I heard Lira’s voice:

— It worked.

I slowly opened my eyes. The same flower was in front of me — but now it wasn’t broken. I did it?

I couldn’t contain the joy flooding me. So I did have talent for magic. After the first failure, I panicked for a moment that I wouldn’t learn silent casting — but now I knew I could!

Right after that joy hit me… I felt my legs weaken. My vision clouded as if wrapped in fog, and I collapsed onto the ground.