Time is a fickle thing as a child. Even now, despite me having the mind of an adult, it just flowed. It’d been another year since I cracked my head on the floor and learned of the existence of magic, and hardly anything had changed since then. You’d think that knowledge would’ve changed everything. Maybe I would finally learn my destiny and figure out why I was brought to this world, and perhaps I could get a head start on becoming a magnificent new wizard!

  No.

  I was still a baby, and I was stuck doing baby things.

  Being this young sucked. It was so goddamn boring, though things were improving. First off, the idea of building a house in my mind was helpful. Okay, I wasn’t actually building a house—I had no idea how to do anything like that. Like, seriously, why were there so many types of hammers and nails, and why did they look so simir? Again, I never said I was smart. I’m no doctor. Or would that be more like an engineer? Are engineers doctors? Why are all professionals considered “doctors.” Huh…

  What was I going on about? Oh, right, building a house in my mind would be a bad idea. I couldn’t even make a mud hut without it falling on my head. So instead, I’d been rolepying. Imagining what it would be like to explore a fantasy world in my mind. Essentially, I was pying D&D with myself, though doing so was rough without having dice or the rulebooks nearby. I just came up with shit as I went. Homebrew. For instance, if I needed to make a skill check, I would look at the light above my crib. The thing must’ve been old, because it would flicker a little every couple of minutes, but not consistently.

  So, I’d pce wager. Say I needed to jump a gap in my mind. If the light flickered in the next minute, I made the jump. If it didn’t. I failed.

  Super fun, right?

  Not.

  Now, that wasn’t all I’d been doing. I also couldn’t help but wonder about the spell my mother had cast on me the day I cracked my head. How did magic work in this world? Was it like in D&D? Did we have spell slots? Could anyone do magic?

  Since I’d been reincarnated, did that mean I was special? Did I get to have cool superpowers like in all those isekai stories? Was this some form of LitRPG world, with stats and whatnot?

  How would I even find out if I could do magic? I’d tried meditating to “focus my potential,” but that normally ended with me having an accident and crying for my caretakers. So that clearly didn’t work, and no way in hell I was trying that again.

  Maybe it was like D&D; my new mother had used a scroll and a chant. As, I didn’t know the hocus-pocus words to cast spells, because again, I was a freaking baby, and of course I now just realized I’d have to learn the native nguage. Frrr—dammit! My life sucked.

  Yet as time marched on and I became a fresh two-year-old, I gradually learned how to walk. My daily exercise of standing up and falling on my ass repeatedly paid off. Now I was fully capable of waddling around at an impressive speed. How fast was impressive? Well, I could scurry my little ass from one end of the hall to the other in like twenty seconds. How long was the hallway? Uh, we’re not going to talk about that. Just picture me moving super-fast, trust me.

  And despite my dread of learning a whole new nguage, I’d even begun to pick up what the adults had been saying. I was still rough around the edges, but I thought I knew the names of Bonehead and the Boss.

  The Boss’s name, I learned, sounded like Cairynn.

  Bonehead’s name sounded like Sryran.

  As for my brother, who was now speaking quite clearly for a four-year-old, his name was Varis. It was all converted pretty easily into English sounds, which should make things simpler for me. I felt bad constantly referring to them by nicknames. Especially Bonehead, who wasn’t much of one anymore. He no longer treated me like a football or got overeager when he pyed with me, didn’t pick me up too fast or pretend to make me “fly.” As for the Boss, she was still bossy and had him wrapped around her finger. I swear, that dy, she was scary when mad.

  You might be wondering why I even gave those two nicknames in the first pce rather than just calling them “Mom” or “Dad.” Reason is, well, I didn’t see them as my parents. It felt weird even just being alive, let alone in another body.

  It’d been two years, two long years. There was no way I was in a coma. This was real, all of this felt so real, yet… I shouldn’t have been here. So, forgive me if it took some time to see these strangers as they really were. I knew the facts; I was just having a hard time understanding them.

  Anyway, enough with the depression talk.

  Despite me being a pathetic, tiny, little, baby person, I tried to speak. Being two years old, I should at least know a couple words, and hell, I got the brain of an adult. This shouldn’t be too hard, right? Well, these toddler muscles weren’t ready to form the words of a Shakespearean py, but I could speak English softly to myself during my lonesome periods. Hearing a voice that wasn’t my own, let alone a child’s, was weird, dude. I mean, actually frightening. It took a long time to get used to hearing myself mutter, and it took even longer for my new parents. Yeah, they heard me.

  They caught me muttering a handful of times when I was waltzing around the house. Fortunately for me, they didn’t know what English was, and therefore my parents found this immensely adorable. They thought I was just babbling to myself. Which, y’know, I kind of was. What did stun them was when my mother caught me reciting her name.

  I had gotten into the rhythm of walking around the house early in the morning after the Boss took me downstairs. My new mother would pce me in our wide-open living room while she tended to her morning chores. By this point, Bonehead had already left for his job, which I assumed to be guard or police duty, as when he came back, he’d be wearing the kind of uniform you’d see on an old Victorian police officer. The Boss, however, seemed to be a full-time mom. But how did they afford all of this? With the fancy couch chairs here and the house in such good condition, the couple who cared for me had to at least be well-off.

  I never saw her leave the house for any kind of job, though sometimes she’d spend some time in the shed in our backyard. I did see she did a lot of baking in our kitchen several times a year. So perhaps that was her work? That’d expin a couple things, and why she was home all the time.

  But I always wondered why the folks never bothered getting a maid. That would be nice. The idea of a gorgeous woman in a pretty maid’s uniform taking care of me was quite amusing. What can I say? A man can dream. Or should I say a girl can dream? Mentally rewiring my brain would take a while.

  I wanted a change of scenery. To see someone different. For two years now I’d been seeing the same three people aside from a few rare, exciting moments when other locals stopped by. From what I’d seen from the house windows, this was a rural town in god-knows-where. Maybe that was why we didn’t have a maid.

  God my life sucked.

  As I mented the fact that I would never see a pretty maid ever again, I decided to pass the time by looking at some books. While I couldn’t exactly read, the Boss and Bonehead had dozens, if not a hundred or more in this house, many of which had pictures and maps, and that’s all any man needs to enjoy them. My new parents at first were aghast at me going through their books, but when they noticed how delicately I treated the pages, they shared a confused look and left me to it.

  One cover that fascinated me featured a massive, red-scaled dragon battling wizards surrounded by soldiers, who were armed with muskets that fired sers. Which was the coolest thing I’d seen since waking up in this world. Wizards, dragons, and ser guns. What else could a man (or girl) ask for? Either muskets shot energy bolts in this world, or the artist was just having a whirl with this, and honestly, I was hoping for the former.

  Today, I pulled the book off the lowest shelf and let it fall to the floor with a thud. As I got down and flipped through the pages, I felt my excitement growing. The illustrations inside were just as captivating as the cover, depicting epic battles and breathtaking ndscapes. As I delved deeper, I found highly detailed runes, heroes, and deities, along with horrific monsters and magical spells that sent my imagination running wild. I was completely engrossed in the book, so much so that I had lost track of everything else.

  As I looked over the art in my own little world, I decided to multitask. Without seeing any issues in it, I began to mutter what few words I knew myself for practice while I observed the pages.

  “Cairynn… Ca—Cairynn…”

  “Roona?”

  I perked up and turned to look at the Boss who stood at the doorway leading into the kitchen with a washcloth and wet pte in hand. She muttered my name once again, cocked her head, and then rolled her wrist in a gesture that said, “Keep going.”

  Immediately I felt my cheeks flush as I was put on the spot. I understood her perfectly: she was curious. Trying to get me to say it again.

  Oh shit, maybe that wasn’t even her name. Have I just used a racial slur? No, you idiot, if you did, she’d be pissed… unless… she’s a racist? No! Or, well, I don’t know, I’m overreacting here. The only way to know for sure was to try it out.

  “Cairynn…” I said it again, and to my shock, my mom’s face lit up with happiness. Next thing I knew, she hurled herself at me and picked me up. Through her forehead kiss, she repeatedly, joyfully, said my name. I couldn’t help but smile. The Boss really could be adorable when she wasn’t scary.

  In the subsequent days, my parents doted on me. Hearing his name repeated back to him softened even my tough-looking father. The Bonehead would invite me to sit down on his p in the living room, then start pointing to his chest and saying, “Sryran. Sry-ran,” before indicating my chest and pronouncing, “Roo-na.”

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly what he was trying to do. My name was Sryran and he was Roona.

  I’m just joking.

  Of course, my newfound parents had no idea I was the most intelligent baby on the pnet, and of course I didn’t want to spoil that surprise. As fun as it would be to act like Stewie Griffin, I doubted the rest of the world would just go along with me flexing my brilliance on them. What I’m saying is, the world wasn’t ready for my smarts.

  Nah, I’m messing around. Somewhat.

  At first, I pyed along with my father, pretending not to know what was going on. “Roo-na!” the Bonehead said again as he tapped my chest with a rge finger. “Sry-ran.” He tapped his chest and then proceeded to speak gibberish.

  What could I compare it to? The only other nguage I sort of spoke before waking up in this world was Japanese. Why Japanese? Well, you see, I took quite an interest in the culture of Japan back in one of my high school history csses—oh who the hell am I kidding, it’s because I watched anime. I admit it!

  I’d compare the basic sounds to German, mixed with something Svic. It was harsh, but also gentle, though sometimes it sounded like Bonehead was sucking air through a straw. Especially during nights, he and the Boss drank. Which was like every other night.

  As my father did it again, tapping our chests and saying our names, I continued to py stupid, grabbing at his finger. My little hands gripped tightly as he smiled and wondered what I was doing. That was when I unleashed Operation Cuteness Overload, turning my internal cuteness parameters to All-In.

  I looked up at Bonehead with wide eyes and flexed my vocal cords as best I could. “Sryran!” I chirped, and my father melted into putty. Ladies and gentlemen… we got him.

  At this point my parents must’ve seen me as a genius. They had watched me learn how to crawl on my own and even walk, and already I was practicing basic speech. They were overjoyed, yet at the same time, I couldn’t help but notice a bit of uneasiness.

  My brother didn’t seem to care, though. Varis was more than eager to py with me now that I could run around. I was nowhere near as strong as him, but he and I occasionally got into wrestling matches. My parents were quick to shut these down. He’d get a huge scolding, probably because I wasn’t a boy like him. Which was absolutely unfair, and I always demanded a rematch. I didn’t care if Johnson left me. I was winning! No matter what anyone else says, me being under him was all part of the pn. It was a deception campaign to lure him into a false sense of security so that I could come out on top. That is my story.

  Jokes aside, I’ll admit, aside from the occasional accident or potty break, I tended to forget that I wasn’t a boy anymore. I still didn’t know how I felt about it. It was no longer shocking, but I wasn’t indifferent. Maybe I felt… great?

  Varis was also growing on me. Unlike me, the kid didn’t have the consciousness of an adult. Yet he was maturing rapidly. Did elves—did we—mature faster than humans? I didn’t know, but it made him a lot more tolerable. Long gone were the days of me staring at him and making him doubt his self-worth, as well as the days of him poking his head into my crib. He and I, we seemed to have come to a silent agreement. He stayed out of my crib; I stopped making him feel like crap.

  All in all, he might still occasionally misbehave, but he remained my little shit.

  This world also had its own holidays. A big one came in winter, when the Boss and Bonehead took us out to town for the first time in my life and bundled us up in suits and coats.

  The Boss put on a beautifully tailored dress suit with a matching coat, while Bonehead wore a sharp tuxedo. Over these, they had heavy winter jackets. Varis was dressed in his own little tailored suit matching his father’s, and I had a frilly purple and blue dress.

  I had worn many things in my past life, from suits to shirts, jackets to polos, tank tops, sweaters. Pretty much anything you can sp on a man; I had worn it.

  Never once, in all my years of living, had I ever expected to wear something like this. It was soft, frilly, and in the way. Holy cow this thing had so much useless fabric. Now, I am all for wearing baggy clothes. Baggy clothes are awesome, they’re comfy, they’re loose, and there’s just enough extra fabric that it isn’t cumbersome. This wasn’t bad, and I would be a liar if I said it wasn’t at least soft, but it was different.

  If this was the kind of stuff I was expected to wear as I got older, then being a girl was going to be interesting. Unless this world had more fashion options. Then maybe, just maybe, I could still wear my comfy baggy clothes. Or I could just man up and embrace the suck. Who knows, maybe wearing dresses could be fun.

  After we were dressed, the Boss and Bonehead put a nice little coat over me before stuffing me into a stroller. Then the man hoisted Varis up onto his shoulders, and we made our way out of the house. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. For two years, I hadn’t set foot outside of this property. Even the front and back wns were still mostly unexplored territory. Yet here we were, leaving.

  As we went outside, I shivered a little in my stroller, but Father Winter had been kind to us this year. There were a couple inches of snow sprinkled across the ndscape, giving it this blinding light as the sun was reflected across the surface. It was a clear morning. The air was crisp and refreshing, making my breath form small clouds. The silence was broken only by the sound of my stroller’s wheels crunching through the snow, creating a rhythm. It felt like we were stepping into a winter wondernd, and awe and excitement thrilled me as we moved down the hill towards the small town far ahead of us.

  I could hear Bonehead and Varis speaking as they took the lead. Occasionally the Boss would bend down and whisper to me as she pointed towards areas of interest, even though I had no idea what she was saying. She pointed at a windmill on a nearby hill, where even now the massive bdes churned slowly, and pointed up ahead to smoking chimneys.

  We were close enough at st to see a rge gathering in the town square near the main road. The town itself was beautiful, right out of an old European painting. Brick buildings huddled close together along the main street with houses scattered along the outskirts, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and colorful shutters. The cobblestone streets meandered through, lined with pubs, cafes and quaint shops that seemed frozen in time.

  As we reached a side street, drawing closer to the square, I noticed the main road was clear and swept; not a single person stood there. Stalls had been set up along the way, vibrant with gold and blue fgs and streamers, as well as glow sticks. Small gss tubes lined stalls, the gel inside giving off a light blue light causing the snow nearby to shimmer. Everything felt so lively and done up. Was this all set up for a parade or show? My curiosity only grew.

  And then I saw other people. Actual people besides my family. On our way, I found a mind-blowing number of species. Hell, I even saw humans—real humans. Who would’ve thought I’d be surprised to see them? There were other elves, dwarfs, and a few halflings, along with some folks who looked like demons. I hope that isn’t racist. They were scary-lookin’, though. They had elven ears like my own, but their skin was either dark purple or red, their eyes came in a vast array of colors, and they had these twisted horns. Some even had wings and tails. It was so awesome. Especially when they smiled, because wow, I thought a shark’s mouth was unnerving.

  God, I’m really not helping my case. They were good people, I swear.

  My eyes were darting all over the pce when we reached the square, trying to soak in as much detail as I could. Soon my attention was drawn to music and heavy drums, and suddenly a booming voice echoed over the crowd. An announcer called out, and the people erupted in cheers and hollers as the drums and music grew louder along with the rhythmic sound of marching.

  The audience started cpping and singing together, and the noise grew deafening. As I looked about bewildered, the Boss leaned down, unclipped me from my stroller, and cradled me close to her chest, allowing me to see over those around me. She fshed me a grin and gestured towards the main street, and my jaw dropped at what I saw. That wasn’t just a marching band; it was an entire army.

  Soldiers in bright gray, white, and yellow dress uniforms, with tall bck hats atop their heads, marched in unison. The soldiers sang as they moved in time, making a racket, their boots pounding the cobblestone streets. Their sheer numbers seemed to extend indefinitely down the road, making for an impressive and frightening image. This show of military precision streamed before me, the column thundering by. Then my jaw nearly hit the ground as I saw that behind them were…

  Well, there were dinosaurs. Not the types of dinosaurs I knew. Huge reptilians were following the troops, complete with gigantic pieces of artillery strapped to their backs or pulled by carts. There was so much artillery on dispy, they really could be preparing for battle. I hoped it was just for show. It’d suck if this world was also pgued with war.

  I was fascinated by the officers and generals riding enormous velociraptors. One of the bck-scaled predators had bck and gray feathers protruding from around its glowing red eyes and down its neck. Its razor-sharp teeth jutted out from the sides of its mouth as it snarled and hissed. The beast wore heavy armor that shined in the sun as it carried another heavy burden. A plump human man rode on top, his face pale and his eyes small and icy. Though he had a thick, blonde mustache, the man was entirely bald. Judging by the number of medals and insignia dispyed across his chest, he was a high-ranking individual who wanted to be the center of attention.

  On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, beside the pristine general was a smaller dinosaur, and on top was a beautiful elven woman. Over her dress uniform, she had a white cloak with its hood up. Below it, I could barely see snow-white bangs that shielded her eyes. Strapped to the side of her reptilian mount was an ornate staff with a blue orb mounted on the tip. Is she a wizard? I wondered as the crowd roared around me.

  Like the universe knew what I was thinking, the announcer barked, sounding like he had a megaphone, and the beautiful elf pulled her hood back to reveal her short white hair. As she parted her bangs, I saw her striking sapphire eyes. She then took her staff and held it aloft. Her lips formed an incantation, and then the very tip of her staff burst into a kaleidoscope of colors and arcane particles. Energy shot skywards, exploding like a fireworks dispy. While the general huffed and scratched his mustache, the audience went berserk. The magician grinned devilishly at the older general as he rolled his eyes.

  The parade continued on for another hour or so. The bck, yellow and white painted on the armor and weapons must have been the colors of the nation. Fgs dispyed a bck shield with a yellow outline on a field of white; decorating the inside of the shield was a roaring yellow dragon.

  As I clung to the Boss, she talked to the strangers around us. Caterers walked amongst the crowd, selling and handing out kebabs and sandwiches, which Bonehead bought for Varis and himself. I received a delightful lollipop that was both sweet and fruity, but unlike any fruit I’d ever tasted before, and hard to compare to anything. All I knew was that it was tasty, and I was happy.

  Later that evening, as the sun began to settle, the Boss and Bonehead took us back home. Varis seemed ecstatic about everything he’d seen. As he and Bonehead talked, Varis hoisted his arms up and roared, like the dinosaurs we saw. My mother pced me in my py area in the living room, which was quickly becoming my second prison. As my new father looked to Varis and motioned for him to stay put, he said something that made Mother pce her hand on her hip and sigh, though she smiled lightly as Varis got very excited.

  Bonehead went upstairs. When he came back down, I blinked in surprise. He was wearing a very simir soldier’s uniform to the one that we saw at the parade, though drab and faded. Aha, learning some lore. Bonehead was a veteran. Perhaps I should start calling him Jarhead instead, I thought as he began to strike some silly poses. He even had strapped to his belt an iron helmet etched with a five-pointed star, which he pced on Varis’s too-small head.

  He then turned and smiled at me. Oh no. “Roona!” he called as he came over. I tried to turn and run, but I was too slow, and he scooped me up off the ground, just as I let out a startled squeak. Oh god, no! He was back to treating me like a damn football!

  I yelled as he tossed me in the air before catching me. My heart was racing as the Bonehead swung me through the air, my squeals of both delight and fear, but mostly fear, echoing around the room. Eventually, though, he slowed down and cradled me in his arm, muttered my name and kissed me on the head, as he turned to Varis and the Boss and pulled them in close, and we hugged each other as a family.

  I blinked, pressed softly into my father’s side. My father… such an odd thing to say. As he made an announcement and gently shook the others off, I felt out of the loop—about everything. My Mother snorted a giggle. Varis squawked and stepped back before giving a pyful salute, which in this world resembled a fist pump. He was still wearing the oversized helmet. My father returned the salute and barked an order. Varis turned and ran upstairs, giggling, while my father turned to Mother and kissed her gently on the cheek before carrying me upstairs too. As my heart was still fluttering and I was still contempting what the hell just happened, my eyes flicked between the Boss and Bonehead.

  Then I realized where I was going.

  Hey, hold on there! I wriggled and fussed in his grasp. I’m not tired enough to go to sleep! Usually, I didn’t go to bed for like another hour! I fought against my father’s strong embrace and moaned the whole way to my room…

  The dorrogan, also known by its schorly name, dracogigandonai, is the rgest domestic animal in Enora. An adult male can reach up to three and a half garos tall and eight in length. These behemoths can weigh up to eight elts. Despite their entirely differing appearances, dorrogans are cousins to the nd strider, both lesser kin than the True Dragons. Unlike striders, dorrogans ck comprehension of speech and are reputed to have only a rudimentary intelligence, thus limiting them to being pack and field animals. —Family of the Lesser-Kin, Sari Struhammer