The chirping of birds outside the window startled Malin awake from his dream.
In that very strange dream, he had returned to his homeland, where ruins strewn about and zombies roamed the streets without a sign of life. He was the only one singing a song atop the Bell Tower, a song he couldn't even understand himself.
He didn't know what it meant; Malin rubbed his nose and then noticed his small hands.
Definitely not the dominant traits of his father's lineage.
It was only then, plagued by low blood sugar upon waking, that Malin realized the room was decidedly not the grand room of the Rongma palace he was familiar with.
Come to think of it, the familiar floral bedsheet gave Malin a sense of déjà vu as he flipped off the blanket, clicked his tongue, then with a flick of Spiritual Energy, the small boy standing on the bed got dressed in pajama bottoms and a robe under the servicing of Spiritual Energy.
