In a small House of a village lay a boy with black hair and green eyes asleep .
A soft cotton sheet clung to his skin. A wooden ceiling greeted him. The scent of herbs, warm broth, and damp earth lingered in the air.
Harry—now in a body that felt unfamiliar—opened his eyes slowly.
His head ached. His limbs felt weak.
What happened? he thought, groggily trying to sit up.
But the body felt wrong. Too frail. Too light.
He blinked, his confusion deepening. Where am I?
His hands—slender and delicate—moved to the bed sheets. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed over the fabric, feeling more fragile than he was used to.
What is this? Harry thought. This isn't my body.
His mind struggled, a dull throb in his temples.
Then—memories—flooded in.
There was a rainstorm. A sudden dash through the woods, chasing a rabbit that wasn't really there.
The laughter of children—they lied to him.
The exhaustion, the coughs, the chills. A cold, worsening with every passing hour.
And the pain of not having the strength to recover.
Harry felt the warmth of the bed, and then—nothing.
This is Cassian's body, the realization hit him like a slap.
His memories weren't just his own. They were someone else's.
Someone who had lived a simple life in this village, helping people at every turn, offering his assistance without hesitation. Too kind. Too soft.
And that little rabbit—the one that had never existed—had been the reason this body, Cassian's body, had failed.
He had died. A slow death from the cold. Too weak, too fragile to fight it off.
Harry now occupied his place.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice.
"Cassian?"
A woman walked into the room, her face lined with worry, her features soft but clearly exhausted. She wore a simple apron and carried a bowl of warm soup in her hands. She had clearly been awake for a long while, and the dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights.
Her eyes softened as she gazed at him. "You're awake… Thank the spirits."
Harry blinked at her, confused for a moment. But there was no denying it—this woman was familiar.
She was his mother, Cassian's mother.
She cupped his face gently, her fingers cold with the chill of the house. "You had me worried, boy." Her voice cracked slightly, filled with relief.
Harry tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. There was a tightness there, as if the very act of rejecting this life would bring pain.
As if... his body wouldn't let him.
"Big brother!"
A small voice cut through his thoughts.
A girl—no older than nine—darted into the room, her bright green eyes glowing with warmth. She had messy brown hair that curled at the edges, and a little wooden rabbit in her hands. She looked so much like him. Cassian.
She rushed to the bed, throwing her small arms around his neck, and pressed her cheek against his. "Big brother, you're awake! I missed you!"
Harry felt the tightness in his chest. This isn't my family. Yet, the emotions tied to them were undeniable. They were real—deep and raw.
He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to act. His lips moved slowly. "I… missed you too."
"Don't ever scare me like that again!" his sister pouted, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
The words felt hollow on his tongue. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to play this role.
But as if on command, his body obeyed. It moved. Slowly. Reluctantly. He sat up, even though his body begged him to rest. His sister tugged at his sleeve, still holding the little rabbit, her innocent face hopeful.
"Big brother, let's go play! You're all better now, right?" Her voice was light, almost musical in its sweetness.
The request, like the others, seemed harmless. But Harry didn't want to. His body was weak. His head ached. He wanted to refuse.
Yet, when he tried, his chest tightened. The sting.
He winced.
His body moved. Slowly, like a puppet on strings, his hand reached out, taking his sister's, even though he didn't want to. The weight of her small fingers in his hand felt like a chain around his heart.
"No…" he muttered, but his voice betrayed him. "I don't want to…"
But there was no stopping it. He stood up, following her outside as she bounced along ahead of him, calling for him to hurry. He could feel her joy, her innocence—and there was no way to refuse her.
The village outside was quiet, the soft sounds of nature filling the air. The hills around Elderwill rose like gentle guardians, and the cool air swept through the trees, carrying the scent of wet earth.
But this life wasn't his. He was trapped in a body he didn't want, with responsibilities that weren't his.
His sister led him to a patch of grass under the old oak tree where they usually played.
"Race you!" She giggled, and with the grace of youth, she darted off, her little feet kicking up dirt.
But Harry didn't move. He stood there, watching her run. His mind was a mess of thoughts, confusion, and frustration. He didn't want to live this life. He didn't want to play the kind, naive fool that Cassian had been.
But he couldn't stop it. His body… would not let him.
He exhaled slowly and ran after her, playing the part, smiling through clenched teeth.
And for the next few days, that was how it went. The village came, seeking his help—whether it was with a sick calf, an elderly woman's aching joints, or a farmer's bad back. They all came, and Cassian—no, he—helped.
No matter how much he wanted to refuse, his body kept moving. The kindness was automatic, a compulsion.
And every time he hesitated, a painful sting ran through him, forcing him to comply.
-to be continued...