Winter’s Rebirth: B1 - 1. Prelude to Rebirth (Patreon)

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The echoing war cries of soldiers reverberated through Victor’s vision, merging with the deafening roar of artillery shelling that ruptured the earth. Rage consumed him, every fiber of his being driven by a primal fury. We have to push forward. We can’t let them break our lines! He charged forward, unaware of the chaos enveloping him, until pain erupted in his chest, he felt dizzy…he was losing blood. Everything went black—or had this already happened?

“Victor, stop running!”

Mom?

He could hear the sound of her voice; his words were more a projection of thought that rippled through space and time like a raindrop on still waters. He felt weightless, floating through a string of memories in reverse, each moment a flash of lightning across his consciousness.

He could see the war, the bloodshed, the moments of peace. He was back in the States, undergoing officer training, then his teenage years, fighting in school and arguing with adults. The times playing with his little sister, then he was back in the arms of his mother—he could see his whole life, a faceless divine figure above him, bright lights, then he woke up.

A blurry mess met his eyes, indistinct oval shapes looming, his mind covered in a fathomless fog; some ethereal force radiated nearby, and he felt like his brain was barely hanging onto conscious thought. Victor’s breath came in heavy, panicked bursts, his eyes darting around in confusion. Where am I? He tried to make sense of his surroundings, fight back.

I must have been near a bomb from one of those noisy airplanes… He momentarily lost track of time, mind hazing in and out of a murky abyss as the world spun. No, I was shot in the chest. But why can’t I close my eyes? I feel so weak… Everything was in black and white, adding to his disorientation. Am I…dead?

A wave of panic surged through him, and he cried out, his voice weak and unfamiliar—a child-like scream. What’s happening to me? Suddenly, he was lifted into the air, much of his body out of his control, and a giant, frightening face came into focus, its features large and overwhelming. He panicked and thrashed out. Nonetheless, the calm voices began to filter through his muddled senses.

“Victor and Elara Winterhart; it has a nice ring to it,” a deep voice rumbled, filled with a mix of awe and fatigue. Winterhart? That’s not my last name? Who’s calling me a boy—Elara?! Where am I?!

Soon, his body felt too heavy to thrash, his muscles tingling and overstimulated. It was hard enough to breathe, and another voice, soft but equally exhausted, spoke.

“His mother had quite the ordeal, Sir Alden. Twins are a terrible omen within a house.”

“Superstition nonsense,” the deep voice countered, and Victor’s mind began to fade as if a veil was folding over his brain. “We are blessed to have twins. I now have a beautiful son and daughter.”

A son? Daughter? What is going on? Victor’s mind reeled.

A tired woman’s voice called out, “Alden, let me see them, please… They put up as much of a fight as I did.”

In an unusual surge of clarity, Victor felt a rush of mental activity feed into him once placed on a soft, warm surface in the chilling atmosphere. A tiny, unfamiliar hand brushed against his, and instinctively, he reached out, grasping it tightly.

What is this? Whose hand is this? Memories of his last day came back to him—the battlefield, the rage, the darkness.

And then it gave way to an intricate walnut-sized pendant that glowed with a radiant light, rested in front of his face; he could feel the hum of something powerful within it inside his bones.

Abruptly, he was weightless, and it was as if his spirit expanded, pulling back to view himself in the third-person before settling back into his tiny new body. It was the strangest out-of-body experience he’d ever had. He was on a woman’s sweat-slickened chest, feeling the pulse of her thumping heartbeat, and across from him was a baby—presumably, his sister.

I was dying… Now I’m…reborn?

It took a few more minutes to grapple with the abrupt shift in reality. Despite that, his father and mother’s words brought his gaze back to the shimmering gemstone, unable to discern its true color through his monochrome vision.

“Look, they’re calming down,” she tiredly cooed. “I think he was right; the pendant did help us through the pregnancy… Three years of trying, and when I wore it, everything worked out. We have two beautiful children.”

“I’m more to believe in you being the miracle than the stone, Anna. Matilda, send word to the Duke,” the deep voice continued, now identified as his father. “He must be informed of their birth.”

Victor tried to process what he was hearing. The Duke? His mind wrestled with the foreign memories and the stark reality he found himself in. This doesn’t make any sense. How is this possible?

“Our son and daughter,” the woman’s voice, his mother, whispered with a mixture of relief and love. He stared at the illustrious stone resting between him and what he assumed was his twin sister. “Victor and Elara.”

Elara… He internally repeated. The world around him was a stark contrast to the war-torn fields he remembered. This place, despite the chill in the air, was filled with warmth and care. I can hear the crackling of a fire…smell the earthy scent of wooden walls…feel the rough texture of blankets. It was so different from the trenches.

“The Emperor himself may hear of this,” his father mused. “Twins in the northernmost settlement, born to a knight of Winterhold. It may be unlucky in the emperor’s eyes that his youngest children are twins but to House Winterhart, it is a sign of strength, not only of our children but the strength of my wife.”

Emperor? Winterhold? Victor’s breathing steadied, his mind slowly coming to terms with his new reality. I’m no longer a soldier in the trenches of World War II… I’m not a 28-year-old Marine Captain… I’m…an infant, reborn with the same name in some cold land with nobles like the Brits? No, shit they said an Emperor…like the Japs. Where the hell am I? Wait, did they really say my little sister’s name?!

“Now that the delivery is done, hold onto this, Anna,” his father said softly, placing a ring beside the pendant. “Channel the Flame Stone to keep your body warm. I won't lose you to the chill now that the children are born.”

“No, alden,” she firmly denied. “Allow me to channel the Celestite a little longer…just to be sure. I don’t want to split my concentration, and the fire is enough…”

Flame Stone… Celestite? Victor’s mind buzzed with confusion and curiosity as the tiny ruby shard was placed on his mother’s chest, and as he held his sister’s tiny hand, a sense of resolve filled him. Is that some sort of Wizard of Oz thing…like the fiction books Elara liked me to buy her? She…was murdered not that long ago… If I died in the latest push in Okinawa, then could I have joined her here?

The voices faded into the background the moment she ceased channeling the stone upon his father’s insistence, and his proud declarations and his mother’s soothing whispers melding into a comforting hum.

If this is my new beginning… I won’t waste it.

Victor closed his eyes, allowing the warmth to seep into his bones, the echo of war cries and plane bombing runs gradually replaced by the promise of a new life.

Over the next few years he filtered in and out of his adult consciousness, remembering bits and pieces about his life as the veil on much of his past was peeled back. One rainy, cold night, he found himself lying in bed next to his mother’s warm, tired body, his little sister resting against his shoulder beside him.

Their father was still at work, going over reports from the scouting teams in the nearby forest, tracking a dire bear. From what he could grasp from their parents’ short conversation, the beast wasn’t like any grizzly he’d heard about on Earth.

Six meters tall when standing, three meters on all fours, and 6 meters in length… 3,200 kilograms?! What kind of monsters do they have in this world… And it has slight magical properties from Amber and Emeralds; so it’s enhanced physically, has some earth manipulation power bullshit, is tough as hell, and heals over time? Just call it a tank; a regenerating tank! 

Apparently, it had wandered out of the Frostpine Forest to the east of Frostholm, their town, and was getting too close to the grazing fields. In the next moment, memories returned of his last day on Earth… Hell on Earth, but that was his old life now.

The veil over his tired and stretched mind blanketed him shortly after, his mother settling in for a long night without their father; they lived a harsh life in the far north, even as nobles. With every passing year, moments of clarity came with pieces of his old life growing stronger; he could see fragments of the little sister he’d known growing in his beautiful twin.

Is she squeezing my hand to tell me she’s here with me… Does she remember? It doesn’t matter… If I’ve been given another chance to take care of Elara, I’ll do whatever it takes. No one will lay their hands on her again…

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