VOIDSTAR: Rise Of The Godless Conqueror

Darkness clung to me like a second skin.

There was no pain. No sound. Only a crushing, suffocating silence pressing in from every side.

Then came breath. A gasp. Shallow. Sudden.

My eyes fluttered open. The world seeped in like water leaking through cracks. Blurred edges. Faint, golden light stinging my vision. My chest rose slowly, weakly, as if I had forgotten how to breathe.

The air was warm. Too warm. It smelled of polished wood, soft linen, and something faintly floral drifting in the background.

'Where am I?'

I tried to move. My limbs ignored me. They were heavy, sluggish, completely unresponsive.

Above me, the ceiling sharpened into focus. Tall. Ornate. Drapes hung along the towering walls. Smooth marble floors gleamed faintly in the distance. Pillars carved with delicate patterns stood like silent sentinels. A faint hum pulsed through the air, so subtle it almost slipped past me. Magic. I recognised the hum of magic.

Panic tightened in my throat.

This was not home.

This was not anything I knew.

What happened?

Why can't I move?

I drew in another breath. It came out shaky and weak. And then a sound escaped me.

It was not words.

A soft, garbled noise. The kind only a baby could make.

The moment stretched. Silent. Dreadful.

My eyes widened. The truth slid into my mind with slow, suffocating clarity.

This was not just an unfamiliar room.

This was not just a strange bed.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

I tried to lift my hand. It barely responded. My fingers, which once held blades or clenched in defiance, twitched weakly beneath the soft fabric wrapped around me. My arms were small. Frail. My legs were bound in thick cloth, unable to stretch beyond a slight kick.

No. What is this?

Confusion spread through me like fog rolling across a forgotten field.

With trembling effort, I turned my head again. This time my vision steadied. Above me, strange ornaments hung, spinning gently in the filtered light that poured through a glass window far to the side.

The bed was massive. The ceiling loomed above like the vaulted roof of a cathedral. The warmth wrapped around me was not just from sunlight. Layers of soft cloth cocooned my small frame.

Everything was wrong.

My body was too small. My voice disobeyed me.

Were these even hands?

The horrible truth pressed down on my chest.

I had become a baby.

The silence returned. Heavy. Suffocating.

It smothered me.

The void.

The unbearable pressure.

Those eyes. Cold. Ancient. Empty.

That voice. Like thunder stripped of warmth and meaning.

Everything I had been was crushed beneath something vast. Something I could never fight.

And now… this.

I blinked slowly as the realization settled like ash in my lungs.

I had been reborn.

But where?

And why?

The silence thickened again. Unmoving. Stifling. Only the faint rustle of silk sheets and the gentle creak of a wooden cradle disturbed it as I shifted my fragile weight.

My thoughts stumbled and formed with the clumsy steps of a man trapped in a body far too small to carry the burden of memory.

'Who was that being?'

The question echoed in my mind, bouncing endlessly within the hollow space left behind by fear. I could still see those eyes behind my closed lids. Unblinking. Ancient. Hollow and cold as the void itself. That voice still lingered in my chest, not as sound, but as a weight.

Why did it let me live?

Or did it send me here?

No answer came.

No revelation.

Only more silence.

A silence I had learned to hate.

I stared at the ceiling, half expecting the void to rip open the sky above me once again. But nothing came.

The calmness of the room mocked me.

'What was my purpose here?'

The question gnawed at my insides. That being had not spoken of salvation. It had mocked me. Dismissed me. Called me pathetic before discarding me like a broken tool.

Am I being used again?

There was no fear in the thought. Only a quiet, bitter exhaustion.

After everything.

After bleeding for people who saw me as nothing but a disposable pawn.

After being broken. Betrayed. Forgotten.

Is this it?

A second life made for new chains?

My small chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, but it did not steady me. If anything, the weight pressing down on me only grew heavier.

I never asked for this.

My thoughts wandered back to my final days in that old life.

Not the betrayals.

Not the rage.

The quiet moments.

Sitting beneath a dying sun. Alone. Unnoticed.

The stillness.

The numb peace.

The quiet, desperate desire to finally… rest.

I was tired.

I still am.

I only ever wanted peace.

That thought lingered, clinging to me like a forgotten prayer.

Peace.

Not power.

Not vengeance.

Just an end to the constant battles.

The endless need to prove myself to gods and men who never even looked back.

But instead…

I am here.

Alive.

Reborn.

Trapped in a soft, warm cradle.

In an unfamiliar place.

Once again under the eyes of forces I cannot hope to understand.

Why?

The word drifted through my mind like smoke, shapeless and unanswered.

Exhaustion tugged at me. Not the kind born from muscle or bone. Deeper. Older. The kind that sinks into your soul and never lets go.

And as I lay there beneath a curtain of golden sunlight, wrapped in silk and the crushing truth that my fate no longer belonged to me, a single thought echoed within the fog of my mind.

Maybe this world will be different.

Maybe it will not.

But if I am a pawn on someone's board again…

I will not break the same way twice.

One step at a time.

Even if my limbs are small.

Even if my voice is nothing more than a garbled murmur.

I will wait.

I will watch.

And when the time comes, I will not rise as a tool.

Not as a broken man discarded by fate.

But as something else entirely.

***

A glint of movement caught my eye.

Across the room, beside the towering wardrobe and the tall silver drapes, stood a mirror.

It was massive. Gilded with bronze. Etched with delicate vinework that snaked across its edges like frozen ivy.

And it showed me.

For the first time, I truly saw what I had become.

A child. No… barely even that.

A baby.

Swaddled in silks. Tucked beneath a velvet blanket.

But that was not what held my attention.

It was the face.

Deep black hair, thick despite my age, curled slightly at the edges. Pale skin like untouched parchment. And the eyes…

Deep crimson. Sharp. Haunting.

Not the soft red of sunset skies.

But the frozen shade of blood suspended in crystal.

Eyes that did not belong to a newborn.

Eyes that remembered too much.

That is me.

The image felt foreign. Alien. But it was my truth now.

There was no denying it.

This was not a dream.

Not some fleeting illusion crafted by a tired mind.

I had been reborn.

And as that truth weighed on me, the door creaked open.

I turned. Slowly. Weakly.

A woman entered the room.

The golden light from the chandelier caught her first.

Long, flowing hair the color of pale honey. Smooth as melted silk. It shimmered faintly as she moved, each step carrying a quiet, natural grace that could not be taught.

Her skin was fair. Her posture tall and poised. She wore an ivory gown trimmed with intricate embroidery, soft and flowing like clouds.

But it was her expression that left me frozen.

The moment her gaze landed on me, her entire face softened. A smile bloomed so warm it almost felt… unreal.

"Oh my little dumpling" she cooed, her voice drifting through the air like a lullaby. "You are awake again. Look at you with that serious little face already"

Her tone was gentle. Sweet like the song of wind chimes in spring. But beneath it…

There was something else.

A familiar energy. An almost unsettling intensity that bloomed within mothers far too obsessed with their children.

She crossed the room without hesitation and leaned over the crib.

"You are always so quiet" she murmured as her fingertips brushed against my cheek. "I leave for one moment and you already look like you are planning the downfall of the world"

I blinked. Stunned. Not only by her words but by the sheer weight of her affection.

There was no hesitation in her touch. No distance. No coldness.

She was not treating me like a fragile baby.

More like a living doll she adored beyond reason.

'Is she… my mother?'

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Another. Her hands adjusted the blankets around me with such care it almost felt like I would shatter if she let go.

"There there. You must be bored lying here all alone. Mommy is here now so do not pout okay I will sing for you tell you a story anything my sweet little snowball"

She is… completely unfiltered.

Elegant and graceful.

And absolutely smothering.

It disoriented me. That raw, unguarded affection. It was not bad. Just… overwhelming.

She was sunlight in a room still half buried in shadow.

And yet… despite the confusion still tangling my mind

Despite the unanswered questions

Despite the unseen eyes that I feared still watched me

At least for now…

I was safe.

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