Reincarnated as a Fairy: My Magic Wings Will Soar Above This Fantasy World!

The Eldertree’s clearing had fallen silent, the echoes of the Guardian’s words lingering in Lyra’s mind like a heavy mist.

You are no ordinary reincarnation.

She sat beneath the glowing bark, her wings twitching involuntarily. Her hands curled into the soft moss, as if grounding herself would keep her from spiraling.

Eryndor watched her quietly. “You should not let the weight of the unknown crush you,” he said, his silver tail flicking. “You are here now. That is what matters.”

Lyra exhaled. “But why? If I was someone important before, why don’t I remember? Why was I reborn as a fairy and not as… whatever I was before?”

The Moonshadow Fox gave her a long, unreadable look. “Perhaps some truths must be earned, not given.”

She swallowed hard.

After a moment, Eryndor stood. “Come. If you are to survive what is to come, you must understand your magic.”

Lyra followed him deeper into the clearing, where the roots of the Eldertree curled upward, forming an open training space bathed in soft, golden light.

Eryndor motioned to her wings. “You are a Sylphid Fairy—your magic is strongest with wind, but as the Guardian implied, there may be… more to you.” His violet eyes flickered. “Show me what you can do.”

Lyra hesitated. Her only experience with magic so far had been instinctive—feeling the wind carry her as she flew. She reached out, focusing on the air around her.

A faint breeze stirred. The leaves rustled.

She furrowed her brow and pushed harder.

The wind surged too quickly. A gale roared through the clearing, sending loose leaves and petals spiraling. Lyra yelped, losing control, and the gust slammed into her, sending her tumbling backward.

Eryndor sighed. “You cannot simply force magic. You must listen to it.”

Lyra groaned. “Easy for you to say.”

He smirked. “Try again. This time, don’t command the wind—dance with it.”

Lyra stood, brushing herself off. She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly.

This time, she didn’t push—she invited.

The wind responded gently, swirling around her fingers, lifting her hair in soft currents.

A smile crept onto her lips.

Maybe she could do this after all.