《Aeternum: The Sin of Return》 Book 1, Chapter 1: Redemption Failure. That¡¯s the word that defines my existence. From the moment I stepped into elementary school, I realized there was something wrong with me. I was the fat kid in the back of the room, the one no one picked for the teams in PE, the one no one invited to play. Always isolated, always on the sidelines. I watched the others laughing, forming bonds, dreaming of the future¡­ but for me, the future never seemed real. Time passed, but nothing changed. I became just a shadow in a crowd that didn¡¯t see me. No self-esteem, no purpose. A heavy body and an even heavier mind. I found refuge in empty pleasures¡ªpornography, addictions that numbed me, that made me forget, even if just for a few minutes, the void growing inside me. High school was just another cycle of disappointments. Everything I tried, I failed. Every little spark of hope that appeared was crushed by reality. Relationships? Never happened. Dreams? They were just illusions that shattered before they could even be reached. And then came adulthood. When I left school, the world opened up in front of me¡­ and soon swallowed me whole. I was thrown into a job that meant nothing to me, a cycle of identical days, a routine that killed me slowly. Wake up, work, go home. Repeat. Like a broken machine programmed to exist but never to live. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The only thing still holding me here was my family. And the memory of my grandfather. He was a strong man, a real man. He worked the land from sunrise until the last light disappeared on the horizon. Sweat streamed down his weathered face, his hands cracked from constant labor. He never complained. Never hesitated. And I¡­ I did nothing. I stayed inside, pretending I didn¡¯t see. I knew he needed help. I knew he couldn¡¯t keep going alone. But I never moved. I never moved. Then he got sick. Cancer took him too quickly. One day he was there, and the next, he was gone. And me? I cried. I mourned. But deep down¡­ I knew the truth. I wasn¡¯t just crying for the loss. I was crying because it was too late. Because all the time I had to be a worthy grandson, I wasted. Because I was weak. A coward. And now, here I am. Standing, with a rope tight around my neck. They say that when we¡¯re about to die, our life flashes before our eyes like a movie. But what I see is not a movie. It¡¯s a nightmare. Every mistake. Every regret. Every wrong choice that brought me here. The wind blows through the open window. The wood of the ceiling creaks under the weight of my body. My hands tremble. My heart beats like a mad drum, knowing it¡¯s about to stop. And then¡­ I jump. The pain comes like an electric shock, a crushing grip on my throat, an instinctive desperation as my body struggles against the inevitable. The air runs out. My vision fades. I am dying. Finally¡­ Darkness. Silence. But then¡­ A distant sound. An alarm clock ringing. And when I open my eyes¡­ I¡¯m no longer there. Book 1, Chapter 2: Redemption Silence. The darkness consumes me. An infinite void¡ªno pain, no sound, no time. So, this is what comes after? Absolute nothingness? There is no light at the end of the tunnel. No angels singing. Not even the fires of hell to consume me. Just¡­ the end. My consciousness dissolves, like black ink in dark water. I don¡¯t feel my body. I don¡¯t hear my breath. There is no need for air, for a heartbeat, for existence. But then¡­ A spark. A glimmer cuts through the darkness. Small at first, pulsing softly like a distant flame. It grows. It strengthens. The void around me bends, as if that light were an anomaly within absolute nothingness. And suddenly¡­ I open my eyes. I don¡¯t know where I am. There is no ground. No sky. Just a vacuum without beginning or end. And right in front of me, floating as if it doesn¡¯t belong to this world, is a ring. Golden and radiant, glowing with a cold, hypnotic light. No inscriptions, no markings¡ªjust a perfect circle, slowly spinning in the air, as if waiting for something¡­ or someone. My body reacts before my mind. My hand moves, fingers reaching toward it. My heart¡ªif I still have one¡ªraces. Something is wrong. Deeply wrong. But at the same time, I feel a call, an inexplicable need to touch it. My fingers get closer. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. And then¡­ the hand appears. From the darkness surrounding me, it materializes. Long claws, skin black as coal, veins pulsing beneath its grotesque surface. A hand that does not belong to this world, exuding a malevolent presence¡ªsomething ancient and primal. It grabs my wrist with crushing force. A shock of ice courses through my body¡ªif I even have one. I try to pull away, but it¡¯s useless. The being holding me is stronger, and before I can react¡­ It takes the ring. And with a brutal motion, it slides it onto my finger. A scream is trapped in my throat. Something rips through my soul from the inside out. A searing pain, like burning iron piercing flesh. My vision warps. My body¡ªif it¡¯s still mine¡ªconvulses. The ring glows with a sickly light, and then¡­ Darkness. Once again, absolute nothingness. But this time, I know I am not alone. My eyes close against my will. The darkness pulls me back. The ring tightens around my finger, as if fusing into my flesh. I can¡¯t move it. I can¡¯t take it off. My body trembles, and then¡­ I hear it. A voice. It is not an ordinary sound. It does not come from the space around me, nor from my own mind. It is something deeper, more primal. A vibration that echoes within my bones, whispering in a language I do not know, yet understand with terrifying clarity. ¡°For his sake, we interfere.¡± My breath falters¡ªif I am even breathing. The words pierce through me like invisible blades, resonating within me like an immutable decree. For his sake? Who are they? I try to open my eyes. To fight against this force that holds me. But I can¡¯t. My senses dissolve, my consciousness fragments, and all that remains is that voice, repeating, lower, deeper¡­ until silence swallows me whole. And then, without warning¡­ I wake up. Sunlight streams through the window. The wind blows gently. I¡¯m lying in a bed¡­ but not mine. The ceiling is different. The walls are different. The texture of the sheets, the scent of the air¡­ My heart pounds. My eyes scan the room until I notice something. My hands. They are not the same. The skin is smoother, younger. My fingers lack the calluses from work, the marks of time. My arms are smaller, weaker. I leap up and run to a mirror in the corner of the room. The reflection stares back at me. And what I see makes me hold my breath. It¡¯s me. But I am a child. The same child I was so many years ago. The same hair, the same round face. The same empty gaze. But there is something different. Something on my finger. The ring. It¡¯s still there. Glowing. Pulsing. And in that instant, I understand. I came back. Book 1, Chapter 3: Redemption Reality crashes over me like a cold blade. The room. The bed. The scent of aged wood and worn-out sheets. The distant sound of roosters crowing in the early morning, just as they always did at my grandfather¡¯s farm. This is not a dream. But¡­ how? My hands tremble as they touch my own face. The texture of my young, smooth skin, free of time¡¯s marks. My fingers trace my round cheeks, my undefined jawline. My eyes meet my own in the mirror¡ªthe same weary, heavy gaze, burdened with a pain that never healed. It¡¯s me. The same short, overweight boy I once was. The same failure as always. The same empty shell that crawled through childhood, crushed by humiliation and loneliness. My mind screams. My lungs contract, desperately searching for air, as if drowning in an invisible ocean. I pinch myself hard, but nothing changes. No distortion. No sudden awakening. No sensation that this is just a cruel illusion. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. It¡¯s real. But¡­ what happened? I¡¯m not religious. Never was. I believe in God, yes, but not in the one shaped by human minds¡ªthe being men have turned into a justification for their weaknesses and sins. The God I imagine has no temples, accepts no prayers, guides no one to salvation. So if it wasn¡¯t Him¡­ what brought me back? My eyes fall upon my finger. The ring. That cursed golden ring. Its glow seems to pulse as if it were alive. A hidden heart pumping something far beyond my comprehension. The memory of a voice echoes in my mind, distorted, profane, whispering through the shadows of forgetfulness: ¡°For his sake, we interfere.¡± What? Who? My head throbs. As if something is trying to take root inside my brain, forcing memories, feelings, sensations that don¡¯t belong to me. Something is watching. Something is here. I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. If this is reincarnation¡­ why? What is there to fix? I failed in my life, that¡¯s a fact. But why give me a second chance? If I have merely gone back in time¡­ then¡­ can I change things? Can I stop being the weak boy I once was? Can I prevent the failures that condemned me to ruin? My fists clench. Doubt still consumes me, but there¡¯s one thing I can¡¯t deny: fate has thrown me back into the past. And I will not waste it. But as this thought takes root within me, as the idea of rewriting my story takes shape, a shadow seems to crawl across my room¡ªunseen by the eye but as present as my own breath. I am not alone. Something brought this ring to me. Something brought me back. And whatever it is¡­ it is still here. Book 1, Chapter 4: Redemption The sound of her voice pierces through me like a hot blade in the cold flesh of despair. ¡ª My son, it''s time! Get ready for school! My grandmother. My grandmother. The shock makes me shudder. My body moves reflexively, but my mind refuses to accept it. How can it be? How can that voice, the one that once fell silent forever, be here now? How can it be that sweet yet strong tone, the timbre that comforted me in the darkest moments of my existence? My legs are weak. My chest burns. My heart beats too hard, as if it wants to explode inside me. Is this a dream? A cruel mirage? But the smell... The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the aroma of bread warming on the wood stove. It''s real. My sense of smell never lied. This smell, this sensation... it''s all my past. I swallow hard. My hands tremble as I touch the rough, familiar bedspread. I look around and recognize every inch of the room. The old dark wood wardrobe. The timeworn walls. The old radio in the corner, the same one my grandmother used to leave on while she made lunch. This can''t be happening. But it is. Reality pulls me into itself with an insane force, as if I''m diving into an ocean of living memories. And then, the question forms in the depths of my mind, venomous, cruel: This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Was my existence so pathetic that something greater intervened out of pity? My fingers touch the ring on my finger. It''s still there. That demonic hand marked me. It trapped me in this impossible cycle. But... what if it¡¯s not pity? What if it¡¯s something worse? What if it¡¯s a game? A game I have no choice but to play? Fear tries to consume me. I try to push it away. I breathe deeply, forcing air into my lungs, as if proving to myself that I am alive. And then, one truth crashes into me with brutal force: It doesn''t matter now. Whatever happened, whether it''s a miracle or a curse, I¡¯m here. And if I''ve been given another chance, I will seize it. I want to live. I will live. The morning air is sharp with freshness, laden with the damp scent of the earth and the woods. The sky still holds the soft hues of dawn, as if time itself is unsure between night and day. But inside me, everything is a storm. Where is he? My legs move before my mind can process. I need to see my grandfather. I rush out of the house, the dirt ground creaking under my bare feet. The cold wind slaps against my face, but I don¡¯t stop. My eyes sweep over every corner of the farm, every twisted tree, every piece of wood worn by rain and time. But there¡¯s no sign of him. The shock hits me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightens, my knees weaken. No. It can¡¯t be. That damn hand... It gave me a second chance, but it took the one thing I wanted to fix. My grandfather is gone. As if this game were manipulating the pieces, deciding for me what could and couldn¡¯t be changed. As if he was doomed to die, no matter what I do. I swallow hard. My heart is racing too fast. I close my eyes. Breathe deeply. Think. If my grandfather is dead, it means everything is following the same path. It means that, in a few weeks, my grandmother will sell this house. We¡¯ll move to the city. And then¡­ Covid. That invisible shadow that swallowed the world, dragging thousands into oblivion. My eyes widen. My breath catches. Now I know exactly when I am. Time is running out. If everything follows as it did before, thousands will die. And I... What can I do with this knowledge? What can I change? That hand didn¡¯t give me any power other than time. It didn¡¯t give me strength, didn¡¯t give me answers. It just tossed me back here, like a rat in a maze, waiting for me to run and struggle until the inevitable. But I¡¯m not a rat. If this curse brought me back, if it trapped me in this hell of choices and consequences¡­ Then I¡¯ll play. And this time, I¡¯ll win. Book 1, Chapter 5: Redemption The cold wind blows against my face, but it doesn''t wake me up. My body is here, standing in the middle of this piece of land that once was my world, but my mind is far away. Very far. The farm feels smaller than I remembered. The silence between the trees suffocates me more than it calms me. The smell of wet earth, which once was the scent of my childhood, now brings a bitter taste to my throat. Reality imposes itself on me like an impossible wall to climb. There''s nothing I can do. My grandmother is old. Her health was never strong. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, we don''t have the means to survive. The city might have been hell for me, but here... here is a bottomless pit with no way out. And the worst part is that this doesn''t depend only on me. My aunts have already decided. They won¡¯t let us stay. The fate has already been written. And for the first time, even with this curse running through my veins, even though I''ve gone back in time... I accept it. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. In my past life, I resisted until the very last second. I hated the city. I hated every step that took me farther from this place. I sank. I drowned in a silent despair, in a suffocating depression, which ripped away any trace of hope. But now... Now I understand. The past isn''t a chain that holds me. It''s a road I¡¯ve already walked, but one I can cross differently. I don¡¯t have to repeat the same mistakes. I don¡¯t have to lose myself again. The wind blows again, but this time, I breathe deeply. I allow myself to feel the smell of the earth, but without pain. The farm is part of my history, but it is not my end. And if my grandmother and I have to leave here... Then so be it. And so it was. The farm that held every shadow of my childhood became just a memory. A signed piece of paper, a trade of money, an inevitable decision. My grandmother sold everything. The land went to my grandfather¡¯s brother, a man I barely knew. Someone who didn¡¯t carry the weight of our history, only the desire to possess it. She also sold her Biz. The bike that once took us to the city, roaring in the silence of the dirt road like a mechanical ghost, now belonged to someone else. And the house... the house is gone. The boards that supported our days, the rooms that heard our whispers, our cries, our silent prayers... now they were just an empty space waiting for new inhabitants. But it wasn¡¯t the walls that hurt me the most. It was the truth. My aunts never liked my grandmother. They tolerated her. They feared my grandfather. And now that he was no longer here, all that was left was a power game we never had a chance to win. That was it. The end of a cycle. The end of an era. But what about my friends? I¡¯m not worried. They still exist. They¡¯re not part of this farewell. I¡¯ll see them again in high school. I¡¯m still in the 8th grade. Four months left until 9th. The future is already set. And when I reach the 1st year of high school... Then I¡¯ll see the people who truly matter. Book 1, Chapter 6: Redemption That was my mistake. Thinking everything would go as before. That my trip back in time was just a second chance¡­ and not a sentence. Then the pandemic came. The world shut down. Empty streets, silent cities, an invisible fear creeping like a shadow over everything and everyone. But I went on with my life as usual. I said good morning to my grandma, and she replied in the same sweet tone as always. I went outside to the wall of the house we rented, played with my brother. My mom showed up, picked Miguel up in her arms, and said she was going to work. Doing nails. The day went by. And then came the next morning. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I said good morning to my grandma. She replied¡­ exactly the same way. Breakfast was the same. My mom arrived shortly after, holding Miguel by the hand. That made me stop. ¡ª Again? I frowned. Something felt¡­ out of place. She asked if Miguel could stay here with grandma. ¡ª But you already brought him yesterday. My mom furrowed her brows. ¡ª I didn¡¯t even come here yesterday. The world froze. My skin bristled, my chest tightened in a terrifying realization. I¡¯m dumb, but I¡¯m not stupid. Something is wrong. I went through the day as usual. I played with my brother the same way as the day before. The same game, the same laughter. The sun set, the night fell, and I went to sleep. But when I woke up¡­ the same events repeated. I said good morning to my grandma. She replied exactly the same way. My mom arrived with Miguel, asking if he could stay. ¡ª But you already brought him yesterday. And once again, she frowned. ¡ª I didn¡¯t even come here yesterday. Breakfast had the same flavors, the same words, the same actions. It was as if¡­ time had gotten stuck. At first, it was just an annoyance. Then, it became unsettling. By the third time, a shiver ran up my spine like icy fingers dragging me into a silent nightmare. Why? Everything followed the usual course. But was that because it was supposed to? Or because¡­ there was no need to change? What if this was the best choice? The human mind rejects perfect patterns. Anything repeated too much starts to feel wrong. But what if the mistake was me? I wondered: what if I changed something? And with that thought burning in my mind, I looked down at the ring on m y finger. Shining, silent. Watching.