Chapter: First Morning in the Woods House
The next day arrived softly.
Oliver blinked awake, sunlight creeping through the blinds in slim golden lines that stretched across the wooden floor. For a few seconds, he lay there, still and quiet, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day before replayed in his head—the golden light, the Black Tortoise, the strange but peaceful house, and the people who claimed to be his new parents
>"Ugh..."Oliverslowly gets up this time he doesn't feel too much gravity holding onto his weight in his pervious world.
>"Uh.....oh I'm still here!". Oliver looked around realizing he's still within this surreal event like any other person.
>"That contract from yesterday...and that Black Tortoise". Oliver brushes his brown wavy medium length hair.
He sat up slowly. His body felt different. Small. Lighter. Still strange to move in.
The bed beneath him was warm and soft, wrapped in a pale blue quilt.
He ran a hand through his slightly longer brown hair and let out a yawn.
>"My voice is quite different.....so this how how I sound like when I was a kid...huh didn't expect me to be so....high pitched". Oliver looked around the room taking a better look.
The room smelled like pinewood and fresh sheets. He looked around again—yep, same room. This wasn't a dream. He was still here.
He swung his legs off the bed and stretched. His feet barely touched the rug. The sweater and shorts he wore felt a little loose, but they fit well enough.
The house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant bark of Comet somewhere outside.
Oliver stood up, padded to the door, and opened it slowly. A soft breeze drifted in from a nearby window.
>"Hmmm....", Oliver stared outside the window seeing the large trees, they resemblance those type of trees not exactly oak but bigger and more downwards.
He could hear birds chirping through the trees. It was peaceful—strangely peaceful.
This was real.
His first full day in the house within the woods had begun.
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Chapter: A New Name, A Lighter Self
First Person – Oliver Woods
I woke up slowly.
Soft light crept through the curtains, a warm pink hue glowing against the blue walls. For a moment, I forgot where I was. My brain still had that weird half-dream haze, expecting the heavy ceiling fan above my old bedroom, the cold AC hum, the unfinished plate of microwaved garbage on my nightstand.
But that wasn't here.
This room was… clean. Big. Mine.
I sat up in bed.
No creaking. No groaning. No struggling just to breathe.
And that's when it hit me again.
There was no weight pulling me down. No pressure in my chest, no pain in my knees, no aching back from a body I let rot for years.
> I feel... free.
I swung my legs out of bed. Light. Fast. Like I could jump ten feet and still stick the landing.
Then I remembered something else.
My name.
> Oliver Reed.
Except… not anymore.
I blinked, staring at my little hands.
No. That name's already fading.
It's Oliver Woods now.
Like Liam Woods.
Martha Woods.
Lyra Woods.
This isn't just some borrowed life anymore—I've been folded into it. Adopted? Technically, yeah. But in this world, no one sees me as some random kid who showed up out of nowhere.
I'm part of the family.
I'm their son.
> It feels strange to let go of "Reed."
That name was mine through all the hard years. All the mistakes.
But maybe... that name belonged to someone who already finished his story.
And this new one?
Oliver Woods…
He's just getting started.
I hopped off the bed and stood on the floor like a brand-new person. My bare feet barely made a sound.
> No restraints. No limits. No gravity dragging me down.
Just freedom.
And a world full of possibilities.
[Third Person view narrative]
Third-Person Narrative:
The morning light slipped gently through the window blinds, casting golden stripes across the blue-painted walls. Oliver stirred beneath the covers, his small hands clutching the soft fabric as his eyes blinked open. For a moment, he lay still, caught between the remnants of dream and the quiet reality of his new life.
Then it hit him—again.
He was no longer Oliver Reed, the 28-year-old man burdened by the weight of his own body and a life that never quite moved forward. That name, that version of himself, had been washed away with the Primordial Sea. Now, in every sense that mattered here, he was Oliver Woods. The name echoed through the house: Liam Woods. Martha Woods. Lyra Woods. And now... Oliver Woods.
He sat up slowly, surprised once more by how light he felt. The crushing gravitational pull that once haunted every step, every breath, was gone. There was no pain in his knees, no shortness of breath. His limbs were small, nimble, and unburdened. It felt... unnatural—and yet completely liberating.
He swung his legs off the bed, the soft carpet brushing against his bare feet. His heart beat quietly in his chest, not from exertion, but from the strange mixture of peace and confusion that lingered in him.