As Izikel bathed and dressed for the morning, he was once again confronted with an uncomfortable truth—he was just a child. No more than eleven years old.
Now seated at the grand dining table, sharing a meal with Felvin and Lyzah, the thought refused to leave his mind.
It would take a pretty long time to regain his full glory, in his past he had pretty good genes so his features were fairly… big. Seeing it fall from grace was a very heartbreaking experience. Hopefully he will be just as lucky as the last time.
But more than anything, what puzzled him was how the people around him treated him. They respected and followed the orders of an 11 year old as if it was normal.
'If this is what being a noble feels like, I wonder what being royalty would be like…'
A voice broke through his thoughts.
"Eat now, Master Izikel," Dremlin urged, standing behind him like a dutiful guardian. "I prepared all this food so you can grow strong and healthy."
Izikel's gaze swept over the dining table, his eyes widening at the sheer abundance before him. Platters of roasted pork and beef, golden-brown chicken dripping with juices, cheeses of every kind, loaves of freshly baked bread, and a spread of fruits and desserts fit for a king.
'All this… just for me?'
The realization struck him with a sense of wonder. Being a noble really did have its perks.
His attention flicked to Felvin and Lyzah. Though they sat at the same table, their meals were vastly different—simple plates of greens, mushrooms, and bread. Nothing even remotely close to the feast he had before him.
"Wouldn't you like some?" Izikel offered, gesturing toward his extravagant meal.
The two Druids exchanged sheepish smiles before Felvin spoke.
"Thank you, Lord Izikel, but we Druids do not eat meat. We are quite content with our diet."
Izikel recalled reading about this before—Druids were strict vegetarians, believing in the sanctity of all living creatures. He tried to imagine a life without the rich, savory taste of meat, but it was unfathomable.
"Suit yourself," he muttered, before digging into his food in a manner that was far from noble. He knew he couldn't finish it all, so he settled on sampling at least one of everything. There was no need to rush—this was going to be his life now, after all.
After breakfast, Felvin excused himself, leaving Izikel alone with Lyzah.
They sat in the manor's front yard, beneath the vast open sky, their gazes drawn to the magnificent tree that towered in the distance.
Izikel shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't particularly nervous about being alone with her, but the silence between them was… awkward. It wasn't that he had nothing to say—it was more that he didn't know what to say.
His eyes flickered toward her, studying her features. Lyzah was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features and a soft, serene expression. She exuded an almost ethereal innocence, a presence that was both calming and distant.
The former Izikel—before his rebirth—had definitely harbored feelings for her. But now? Now she was just a little girl to him. A young girl who, despite her outward gentleness, might be far more dangerous than she appeared.
Just as he was beginning to wonder what was going through her mind, she spoke.
"Would you believe that giant tree came from a single tiny seed?"
Izikel followed her gaze, letting his eyes trace the towering form of the Old Tree. It stood at over five hundred feet, its vast canopy spreading in every direction like a protective embrace over the village.
But this was no ordinary tree. It was the heart of the Druids, their sacred Altar, a conduit to the Verdant Mother of Life.
Despite knowing that all trees start as seeds, the idea that this tree—so ancient, so immense—had once been nothing more than a fragile sprout was difficult to comprehend. It was easier to believe that some divine hand had placed it there, long before the first humans walked the land.
"Hmm, I find that hard to believe," he shrugged.
Lyzah continued, her voice laced with quiet reverence.
"It was. That tree was planted nearly a thousand years ago, after the Great War of the Five Kingdoms. My ancestors—what remained of them—planted it as a symbol of renewal, after all the other Old Trees had been burned to the ground."
Izikel listened intently, sensing the weight of her words
"After the war, my people had no home, no sanctuary… until your ancestors welcomed us here, offering us a chance to rebuild. Because of that kindness, the Verdant Mother's divine energy flows through this land, blessing everyone here with good health and bountiful harvests."
She turned to face him then, a warm, radiant smile spreading across her face.
"To me, this tree represents hope. Hope that even when everything is lost, you can begin again… and create something new. Something beautiful."
Izikel was caught off guard by the sincerity in her eyes. Her words washed over him like a gentle breeze, carrying the scent of fresh blossoms.
For the first time, he saw Lyzah in a different light. How could he have ever doubted her? She was too gentle, too pure—completely incapable of harming anyone, let alone him.
And yet—
The memory of those eyes flashed in his mind. The eyes he had seen in his dream. The eyes burning with conviction, with cold, merciless intent, as she drove a blade into Izikel's chest.
But looking at her now, there was no trace of that darkness. It was as if he were staring at an entirely different person.
'Maybe I really was being paranoid…'
He let out a quiet sigh, feeling a strange sense of relief settle over him. A small, hopeful smile found its way onto his lips.
'What was I even thinking?'