The boy was only two years old, yet something about him always felt older—far older—than his tender age. His gaze was unnervingly steady, his silences thoughtful rather than empty. He didn't cry without reason, nor did he laugh at things he didn't find truly amusing. His name was Shaurya Malhan, sole heir to the prestigious House Malhan—one of the Four Great Houses that served directly beneath the royal family of Solmaria, a land built upon pillars of magic, honor, and tradition.
Even in infancy, Shaurya had an aura that unsettled the seasoned guards and old maids of the estate. At an age where most children babbled nonsense and chased butterflies, he could be found nestled in the shadow of his father's vast study, flipping through ancient tomes of history, literature, and magic.
At first, his father—Lord Ashvik Malhan, High Commander of Solmaria's western borders—believed the boy was simply mimicking him, staring at pictures while pretending to read. But one day, he noticed Shaurya repeating words under his breath, tracing arcane symbols with his fingers and murmuring thoughts far too complex for his age.
The realization struck him like a sudden gust of winter wind: The boy understands.
Ashvik said nothing. He merely watched, then turned away, hiding the rare glint of pride in his stern eyes.
The Great Houses of Solmaria
The nation of Solmaria was not merely a land of rivers and mountains—it was a realm built upon legacy.
Four noble Houses stood beneath the crown, each with a sacred duty:
House Chauhan: Masters of sword and shield, their knights were legends in war.
House Malhan: Keepers of knowledge, scholars and mages of unmatched renown.
House Solanki: Spirit-callers, known for their bonds with elemental beings.
House Rathore: Silent shadows—the assassins or secret spies of Royal Family, eternally loyal to the throne.
Among them, House Malhan stood proud in the arcane arts. Shaurya, born of their blood, was expected to be nothing less than a prodigy.
Shaurya's days passed not with toys or games, but in quiet observation. The estate's grand library became his sanctuary. He understood things he had no way to understand. He learned that the world was woven with magic—elemental forces shaped through grimoires that enabled spellcasting. Yet, when he read of these things, they didn't seem foreign or exciting.
They felt… familiar. Like memories buried just beneath the skin.
His parents noticed his odd behavior. His mother, Lady Isha Malhan, once the royal court's most revered enchantress and healer—known across the kingdom as The Ultimate Healer—had given up her ranking in royal guard to raise him. She would often smile gently when she caught Shaurya talking to himself in whispers, or practicing unfamiliar hand gestures with unsettling precision.
"Do you think he's gifted?" she asked her husband one night.
Ashvik didn't answer. He only said, "He's not like us. That much is clear."
It was a warm spring morning, and sunlight bathed the marble courtyard in golden brilliance. Birds sang from the high windows, and the scent of fresh roses drifted on the breeze.
In the middle of a shallow pool, a five-year-old girl splashed water as she scrubbed the back of a very red-faced Shaurya.
"Turn around," she said sweetly, flicking a handful of water over his shoulder.
"I don't want to," Shaurya muttered, shrinking inward like a turtle retreating into its shell.
Her name was Kanak Das, the granddaughter of Naren, the estate's head butler. Though she was only three years older than Shaurya, she started looking after him like an older sister—or a very bossy mother.
She let out a small laugh. "You're acting like a grown-up already. Most kids your age would be splashing me by now."
Shaurya looked away, his face burning with confusion. He didn't know why he felt so shy.