Maya's brow was furrowed with worry as she tended to Neil, her hands constantly checking his forehead for fever. His shivering had subsided, but a deep pallor remained on his face, and his sleep was restless, punctuated by soft whimpers. Anil, his face grim, sat by the fire, his gaze flicking between the flickering flames and his son's still form.
When Neil had finally stopped his delirious cries, replaced by an unnerving silence, the fear in the cabin had thickened. They had no understanding of what had caused his sudden distress, attributing it to the shock of the icy water and the near-death experience.
Once Neil was stable, the scolding came, delivered with a mother's fear and a father's sternness. He was not to go near the lake again, not without a grown-up, not for a long, long time. Caspian, though he had saved Neil, also received a sharp reprimand for taking him so far without proper supervision.
Despite the harsh words, Neil felt the undercurrent of love that bound his family together. The worry in his mother's eyes, the protective stance of his father, the hushed concern of his uncles and aunts – it was a tangible warmth that seeped into his chilled bones, a different kind of warmth than the sun he vaguely remembered from another life.
As the day wore on, and the initial shock began to recede, Neil found himself grappling with the impossible truth of his memories. He had been someone else. He had lived another life, so different from this one. The sterile white room, the gentle touch, the fading light – they were as real to him now as the rough wood of his bedframe.
He didn't fight the memories.
Instead, he found a strange sort of acceptance. Elias was a part of him, a layer added to the Neil he had always known. The pain of Elias's ending was a shadow, but it didn't eclipse the fragile hope of his new beginning in Lumin.
When his mother brought him a cup of warm broth, her eyes still clouded with concern, Neil managed a weak smile. "I'm alright, Mama," he said, his voice still raspy. "I feel… tired, but fine."
Maya didn't look entirely convinced, but a flicker of relief crossed her face. Soon, the rhythm of the village began to reassert itself. The immediate crisis had passed, and survival demanded their attention.
The women of the extended family gathered around the drying racks, thin strips of hunted meat hanging over the low fire, the smoky aroma filling the air. Others prepared the day's meal, a simple stew of foraged vegetables and whatever small game the hunters had managed to bring back. Some ventured into the nearby woods, their baskets ready for any hardy herbs or late-season fruits they could find.
The men, axes slung over their shoulders, headed out into the frozen forest, their task the ever-present need for firewood and the hope of tracking larger game. Even the older children, including Lyra and Caspian, were tasked with gathering smaller branches and kindling, their small figures moving purposefully through the snow.
Neil, still weak from his ordeal and the mental upheaval, found his limbs heavy. The brief surge of understanding he'd felt with the awakening of the Artifact had faded, leaving a lingering sense of something… different. He felt a pull towards sleep again, a deep weariness that seemed to go beyond the physical.
He drifted back into a fitful slumber, the murmuring sounds of his family's activities a distant lullaby.
The next time he awoke, it was to the gentle touch of his mother's hand stroking his hair. The cabin was dim, the day drawing to a close. The smell of stew wafted from the main lobby.
"Wake up, little one," Maya murmured, her voice soft with affection. "You need to eat something."
He stirred, his body still sluggish, but his mind felt clearer. The memories of Elias were still there, a vivid tapestry in his mind, but they no longer felt like an alien intrusion. They were a part of him now.
As he slowly ate the warm stew, his family gathered around. His grandfather, Eldrin, his face etched with the wisdom of his years, began to tell a story – a familiar tale of a brave knight from the Solara Kingdom, facing down a monstrous beast. His voice, low and soothing, filled the small cabin, a comforting anchor in the strange new reality Neil was beginning to navigate.
Soon, the warmth of the food and the familiar cadence of his grandfather's voice lulled Neil back to sleep, the weight of two lives settling upon him. The Artifact lay dormant once more, its potential waiting for the moment it would truly be needed. But the seed had been planted. Neil was no longer just a boy of Frostlake Village. He carried within him the echoes of another life and the nascent power of a world beyond their own.