Not long after the child’s birth—

  the world changed.

  There was no warning.

  The night sky darkened as if an unseen hand had dragged a curtain across the heavens. One by one, the stars vanished—snuffed out so cleanly it was as though they had never existed. The moon’s pale glow resisted for a single heartbeat—

  Then it, too, was gone.

  An enormous cloud spread across the sky, swallowing the night whole.

  Moments ago, it had not been there.

  Then—

  Light burst forth.

  White and gold radiance spilled from within the cloud, flooding the heavens in every direction. It was neither blinding nor gentle. It did not comfort, nor did it burn.

  It simply was.

  Absolute. Inescapable.

  It pressed down upon the world below.

  Mountains cast no shadows. Forests stood frozen beneath the glow. Even the seas lay still, their surfaces reflecting something vast and unknowable above.

  The cloud was immense—vast enough to devour the moonlight entirely. Whatever rested upon it could not be seen, yet its presence carried weight, as though the heavens themselves had leaned closer.

  Watching.

  Far away in the verse, beyond mortal sight—

  A throne rested within a towering castle hall.

  Its walls stretched endlessly upward, swallowed by shadow, as if the hall itself had no ceiling. Darkness clung to every pillar, every arch, broken only by the soft glow of a single object.

  Upon the throne lounged a figure.

  Relaxed. Almost bored.

  One arm draped lazily over the armrest, the other supported his chin as he stared ahead. Before him floated a crystal sphere, its surface rippling faintly.

  From it poured the same white-gold light now staining the mortal sky.

  Within the crystal—

  A small wooden house.

  And inside that house—

  A newborn child.

  The figure’s lips curled upward, slow and deliberate.

  “Hahaha…”

  The sound echoed through the empty hall, low and amused, as though the world itself were a joke meant only for him.

  “…Interesting,” he murmured.

  His gaze never left the infant.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Even farther away—

  Far beyond distance, beyond form—

  Another presence witnessed the same phenomenon.

  It had no face.

  No body.

  Only a silhouette trembling against the void.

  “S-Someone carrying the legacy has been born…”

  The voice shook, sharp with disbelief—and fear.

  “No… no, this can’t be allowed…”

  Its outline distorted violently, as though the thought alone caused it pain.

  “…He cannot be allowed to live.”

  Back in the quiet countryside, unaware of the eyes upon them—

  Sir Aldric Rowan stirred.

  A tight unease wrapped around his chest, dragging him from sleep. He sat up slowly, breath shallow, his instincts screaming long before his mind caught up.

  Something was wrong.

  The room was too dark.

  Moonlight should have been spilling through the window.

  “Elowen…?” he murmured.

  No response.

  Aldric rose quietly and crossed the room, pulling the curtain aside.

  The sky beyond the glass was wrong.

  A massive cloud stretched endlessly overhead, glowing faintly with a light that felt both sacred and oppressive. Aldric froze, his breath catching in his throat, as though he were staring into something never meant for human eyes.

  “…Hey,” he whispered.

  “Are you seeing this, Elowen?”

  Still no reply.

  He turned back.

  Elowen lay asleep, exhaustion finally claiming her. Cradled in her arms was Azelion—warm, still, breathing softly. The strange sky above seemed to hold no claim over him.

  Aldric’s expression softened.

  Careful not to wake her, he gently lifted Azelion and placed him between them on the bed. The baby shifted faintly, letting out a small sound before settling once more.

  Aldric lay back down, resting one hand protectively near his son.

  Outside, the light continued to glow.

  Unseen.

  Unquestioned.

  By morning—

  It was gone.

  Aldric awoke to an empty bed.

  His heart lurched.

  “Elowen?”

  No answer.

  He searched the house, unease tightening with every empty room, before hurrying outside.

  There—within their modest farmyard—stood Elowen.

  Relief washed over him.

  Their land was neither large nor small, just enough for a quiet life. Near the house stood an old tree, its branches swaying gently in the morning breeze.

  Elowen walked slowly through the yard, Azelion cradled in her arms.

  She was singing.

  A soft lullaby, barely louder than the wind.

  Aldric stopped, listening.

  “You’ve been up since dawn, haven’t you?” he said gently.

  Elowen glanced back and smiled. “He wouldn’t settle.”

  Aldric chuckled under his breath. “Stubborn already.”

  “Like his father,” she teased softly.

  He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “It’s my turn. Go rest.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, carefully placing Azelion into his arms. Her fingers lingered, reluctant to let go.

  For a moment, Aldric stood there, holding his son.

  The wind brushed past him.

  And though he couldn’t explain why, he felt as though something unseen was listening.

  Later, as they ate together in the kitchen, Aldric spoke of the night.

  “The sky darkened,” he said, gesturing as he tried to explain.

  “Then the light came. Like heaven itself resting on a cloud. I’ve never seen so many stars… and yet none at all.”

  Elowen listened, eyes wide.

  “You always see strange things,” she said lightly, though her voice wavered.

  Aldric smiled faintly. “This time, I wish you had seen it.”

  I wish I could have, she thought.

  A month passed.

  Then another.

  The house slowly changed.

  Aldric replaced worn planks with sturdy wood from the forest, reinforcing walls and roof alike. Elowen filled the home with new furniture from the market, always with Azelion tucked safely against her.

  By the end of the second month, the house felt reborn.

  Strong. Warm.

  A home.

  Azelion lay on the bed, rolling clumsily, arms flailing as if trying to grasp the world itself.

  Aldric laughed. “Look at him. Already reaching for everything.”

  Elowen smiled softly. “Let’s hope the world is kind to him.”

  Two days later—

  A sharp sound shattered the quiet.

  Aldric froze.

  He opened the door and stepped outside.

  Nothing.

  No one.

  As he turned back—

  Thud.

  An arrow quivered where it had buried itself deep into the wooden door.

  Something was tied to it.

  Aldric pulled it free and shut the door, his jaw tightening. Sitting on the bed, he untied the cord and unfolded the message.

  His blood ran cold.

  Leave the child in the house and depart before dawn.

  Do not take him. Do not hide him.

  Obey, and you will be rewarded—gold, land, and a grand home within the capital’s walls.

  Refuse… and we will come for him.

  And when we do, you will watch.

  Aldric’s hand trembled as the paper crumpled in his grip.

  This was not an offer.

  This was a sentence.

  Outside, the wind whispered against the walls.

  And somewhere far away—

  Someone laughed.