The storm never came, but the thunder rolled anyway.
It rattled the tall windows of the Veynar estate, echoing across the quiet valley. No rain fell, no lightning split the sky. Only thunder—low, heavy, and endless. As though the heavens themselves warned that something had just shifted.
Inside the great house, a child was born.
Countess Seliora Veynar lay exhausted upon silken pillows, her golden hair clinging damply to her skin. Her breathing came ragged and shallow, yet her eyes shone with relief. When the midwife placed the swaddled infant in her arms, her eyes were brimming with joy.
"My son…" she whispered, voice trembling.
The babe wailed with startling strength, his tiny fists clenching the air. The servants exchanged quick, nervous glances, whispering blessings under their breath. The chamber smelled of herbs, candle smoke, and warm blood. But beneath it all was something heavier—a pressure in the air, like the thunder outside pressing down upon the estate.
The door creaked open.
A man in black and silver armor with white hair stepped inside, his cape dragging across polished stone. Broad-shouldered, cold-eyed, and carved from discipline, Count Ardyn Veynar carried a presence that smothered all sound. The servants bowed their heads at once, and silence followed him like a shadow.
"Seliora," he said. His voice was low, steady, edged with iron. "Our son?"
She lifted her face toward him, weariness melting beneath a faint smile. "Alive. Strong."
Ardyn approached, his boots clicking softly against the floorboards. He paused at her side, gaze fixed upon the child. The stern lines of his face eased, if only slightly. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he extended his arms.
Seliora handed him the child.
The baby stirred. For a brief moment, his eyes opened.
Ardyn froze.
Not blue. Not gray. Not the dull, uncertain hues of most newborns. For that one instant, the child's gaze burned golden—molten, sharp, slitted like the eyes of some ancient dragon. In those eyes, Ardyn felt the weight of something vast and knowing staring back at him. Not the mindless innocence of a babe, but the gaze of a soul older, greater, deeper.
His breath caught. The thunder outside seemed to grow louder.
Then—gone.
The gold flickered out as quickly as it came. The child's eyes were plain blue again. Round. Harmless.
He whimpered, squirming in Ardyn's grip.
Ardyn blinked, his jaw tightening. He looked again, searching—but the dragon's gaze was no more. Only the eyes of an infant remained.
"…Hmph." He exhaled through his nose, forcing calm. "My imagination."
"Ardyn?" Seliora's voice was soft, curious. "What is it?"
"Nothing." His tone was flat. He handed the child back gently. "He is ours."
Seliora studied him for a moment longer, but said nothing. She kissed her son's forehead, and her smile returned.
But Ardyn's eyes lingered, just for a breath, as he turned away. Dragon's eyes. He had seen them. If only for a moment.
And that moment gnawed at him.
— — —
Within the child's fragile body, behind the veil of soft blue eyes, a soul stirred.
Kaelion Vireth.
Crown Prince of the Vaelorian Empire.
He remembered.
He remembered the shining towers of his homeland, white and perfect beneath the glow of crystal spires. He remembered the golden age, the laughter of his people, the strength of his bloodline.
And he remembered the end.
The sky torn open. Armies of horrors spilling through, neither man nor beast, but things from the outer dark. The capital aflame. Screams drowned in silence. His own blood staining white stone.
He remembered Thane's desperate cry.
Alion's broken voice as he cast the final spell.
And the spear of the Outer King, black and endless, as it split the world apart.
Then—he heard it.
The roar.
Kaelion stood now in a void between worlds. Here he was not an infant, but himself—tall, proud, scarred by memory yet unbroken. Shadows and fragments of stars drifted in the dark. His heart thundered in his chest.
"Seirath…"
The abyss shook. A golden light burst forth.
Wings spread wide, vast enough to shatter eternity. A dragon emerged, its body formed of light and spirit, its presence both terrible and divine.
Kaelion looked up. His throat caught. "Seirath!"
The dragon's eyes burned like suns. Its voice thundered within him, shaking his very soul.
"In the end our bond remained unbroken."
Kaelion's heart ached with relief. "I thought I had lost you. When the spear struck… when the world burned…"
"You are not lost," Seirath rumbled, wings rippling with light flame. "Alion's spell carried you here. My light shielded your soul. Even as the planet fell, even as death claimed you, I did not let you shatter. You are whole, Kaelion. Entire."
Kaelion clenched his fists, his jaw trembling. "Then in the end they choose to sacrifice themselves for me."
The dragon lowered its head, golden fire coiling around him like a crown. "But this world is not your own. Its skies hold different stars. Its laws of magic are not the same. The Outer King's reach may stretch even here."
Kaelion lifted his chin, eyes fierce. "Then I will grow stronger. Stronger than before. Strong enough to hunt him across realms. Strong enough to kill him."
Seirath's wings curved around him, a shield of light. "Then I will remain at your side. Even though I'm just a fragment now. Let us meet again at right time."
— — —
The vision trembled. The void collapsed. Kaelion felt his consciousness dragged down, forced back into the baby that now held him.
The babe's chest rose and fell softly. His eyelids fluttered closed. He slept soundly, wrapped in his mother's arms, no different from any ordinary child.
Seliora brushed a finger across his cheek and smiled. "Kael," she whispered. "My little Kael."
The servants relaxed. The heavy air lifted. Even the strange thunder outside at last began to fade.
No one spoke of omens. No one dared.
But the truth was hidden in plain sight.
This was no ordinary child. Within the fragile body of Kael Veynar lived the soul of a fallen prince, bound eternally to a dragon whose roar once shook the heavens. His golden eyes had revealed themselves only for a breath, just long enough to haunt the memory of one man.
Count Ardyn Veynar would remember that flicker, even if no one else had seen it. He would remember—and wonder.
For the prophecy of the Child of Light had begun.
And this is the beginning of new era.