Chapter 1: a new beginning

Pain. It was the first thing Hadrian registered when consciousness returned to him. A deep, aching weariness that settled into his bones, not unlike the exhaustion he had carried in his past life.

But something was different. The air was crisper, carrying the scent of earth and flowers, untouched by the staleness of battle or decay. There was no lingering scent of blood or smoke, no harsh fluorescent lights or the overwhelming hum of a hospital ward.

Slowly, he forced his heavy eyelids open. Soft, dappled light filtered through tall, unfamiliar windows. The room was bathed in a golden glow, the architecture foreign yet soothing, curved walls decorated with intricate carvings of trees and rivers. He lay beneath layers of fine silk and soft furs, far too luxurious for what he had last remembered—dying.

He swallowed hard, his mind scrambling to make sense of what had happened. He had died, hadn't he? The war had ended, Voldemort had been defeated, and he had been so tired, so utterly drained. Had he been reborn? Was this some elaborate afterlife?

The sound of approaching footsteps made his breath catch. He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt strangely light, his balance off, as though his very body was different. Before he could dwell on it, the doors to his room opened, revealing a tall figure with long, dark hair and sharp, noble features. His robes were elegant, flowing like water as he stepped forward with the grace of someone used to authority. Behind him was another man, slightly shorter but no less striking, with golden hair and eyes that held a quiet, ancient wisdom.

Hadrian tensed, instinctively reaching for his wand—only to find nothing. His fingers curled into the blankets as he forced himself to remain calm.

The first man inclined his head slightly. "You are awake. That is good. How do you feel?"

Hadrian's throat was dry. He wet his lips before responding. "Where am I?"