The storm raged over Valemere.
Thunder clawed at the heavens, lightning slashed through the sky, and rain pounded against the windows of the council hall.
Inside, the grand chamber was cloaked in shadows. A long, high table stretched like a blade through the center, carved from black oak and polished to a mirror sheen. At its edge sat the royals of Valemere dukes, lords, and high ministers all cloaked in silks and jewels. Yet the storm outside swallowed their brilliance, leaving only faint outlines of their faces in the flickering light of the thunder.
Their voices clashed in the dark.
"The Emperor and his wife's deaths cannot be an accident," one lord hissed, his rings clinking against the table. "A shipwreck on calm waters? It reeks of a plot."
"Aye," another sneered. "The enemies of Valemere seek our weakness. Who else but rival kingdoms would dare such treachery?"
"The throne cannot be left in the hands of a child," a heavyset duke spat, his face lit briefly by lightning. "The princess is but five years old. To crown her now would be folly."
"The Emperor's brother, Lord Sono Noctis," another chimed in, "is the rightful choice. Let him rule until the girl comes of age."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber. Hands tapped against the table, heads nodded in the dim light. The fate of the kingdom seemed sealed by consensus until silence fell.
An unnatural silence.
One by one, the royals froze in place. Fingers stiffened mid-gesture, lips parted but no words came. Their eyes darted wildly, rolling sideways in panic, but their bodies would not obey. The chamber air grew thick, colder than the storm outside. Their skin prickled, their hair stood on end, and dread pooled in their hearts.
Then, thunder split the heavens.
For an instant, the hall flashed with blinding white
and when the light faded, a man was there.
He sat upon the high-backed chair at the table's head, as if he had been there all along. His beard was long and silver, his cloak heavy with shadow. Yet it was not his form that froze their blood it was his presence. A presence so vast, so merciless, that the royals could not even draw breath.
When he spoke, his voice rolled like the storm outside.
"The ruler of Valemere," he intoned coldly, "shall be the crown princess Lilith Noctis. The Emperor's will is clear. The blood of the Noctis line endures. Any who dare defy it…"
His eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"…will die where they sit."
No one moved. No one spoke. Not even the thunder dared to answer him.
In a village in an Orphange
The sound of clattering dishes echoed through the worn-down orphanage kitchen. Rusted pans hung crookedly on the wall, and a cracked wooden table sagged under the weight of chipped bowls. The water from the bucket was murky, the soap nearly dissolved into nothing. Still, a boy scrubbed with determination, sleeves rolled up, black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.
"This sucks," Caelum muttered, grinding a wooden bowl with far more hatred than it deserved. "I kill myself because life was miserable, and this is where I end up? Washing dishes in some medieval knock-off world, abandoned by a deadbeat father. And not just any father noooo, it has to be a hero. Big-headed idiot gets a statue and cheers, while his own kid gets dumped here like trash."
The bowl squeaked under his rag. He scowled at it.
"And what does he leave me? Not money, not a sword, not a letter just a name. Althar. Like that makes up for anything. Thanks, Dad. Great inheritance. Who cares if people bow when they hear it doesn't put food in my mouth, does it?"
He slammed the bowl into the pile with a clatter.
"Caelum Althar, son of the great Lucien Althar," he mimicked in a grand voice, then spat into the sink. "What a joke. The man's probably out there polishing his shiny armor while I'm scrubbing porridge crust off dishes."
From the doorway, a small voice piped up, "Caelum, are you talking to the plates again?"
Caelum turned and found a group of children peeking in. Their ragged clothes were patched a dozen times, their cheeks smeared with dirt, but their eyes sparkled with mischief.
He groaned. "Yes, I was. The plates and I are having a serious conversation about how unfair life is. Want to join?"
The youngest, a tiny girl clutching a stuffed rag doll with one button eye, giggled. "Plates don't talk, stupid."
Caelum flicked water at her. "Neither do dolls, but you whisper to that thing all night, don't you?"
She gasped, clutching the doll tighter. "Don't make fun of Sir Buttons!"
The other kids burst into laughter.
Caelum rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at his lips. He dried his hands on a ragged towel and knelt down so he was level with them. For all his cursing and bitterness, these kids scrappy, loud, and impossible to ignore were the first people who ever made him feel like he wasn't completely alone.
"Alright, brats, listen up." He tapped the floorboards like a general calling his troops. "Your big brother Caelum has made a promise. One day, I'm going to become the Knight King."
The kids' eyes went wide.
"The… Knight King?" one boy repeated, his missing front tooth making him whistle the words.
"Yeah," Caelum said with exaggerated confidence, puffing out his chest. "Not just any knight. The best knight. The top of the top. I'll fight wars, slay monsters, win battles so glorious they'll write songs about me. And when I do" He pointed at the crumbling ceiling. "I'll rebuild this dump of an orphanage into a castle so shiny you'll need sunglasses just to look at it."
Gasps of awe echoed. One girl jumped up, eyes shining. "A castle?! With real beds?"
"Not just beds," Caelum declared, standing now, voice booming like a bard. "Comfy beds! So soft, you'll sink into them like a potato into soup."
Laughter erupted. "What about food?" another boy shouted.
"Food?!" Caelum spread his arms wide. "You'll have so much food, you'll be sick of it. Pies, meat, cakes, milk every day a feast!"
"And toys?"
"Every toy you can imagine. Wooden swords, dolls, spinning tops heck, I'll even invent some new ones."
The kids squealed, bouncing in excitement. Caelum grinned, the fire of their joy warming something deep inside him. For a boy who had lived his first life in misery, bullied and abandoned, this messy bunch of orphans these loud, smelly, stubborn children felt more like family than anything he'd ever known.
He looked at them and thought: Even if my so-called father abandoned me, these kids won't be left behind. Not while I'm here.
The thought sobered him. His voice softened. "I promise, okay? One day, I'll give you all of it. This place will be more than a castle. It'll be our home. Safe, warm, and full of everything you've ever dreamed of."
For a moment, silence fell. The storm outside quieted, as if listening.
Then the littlest girl with Sir Buttons tugged his sleeve. "Caelum… can I ask for one more thing?"
He crouched again, smiling. "Sure. What is it?"
She hugged her doll tighter. "Don't leave us. Even if you become King Knight or whatever. Don't forget us."
Caelum froze. The words hit him harder than any sword could. He ruffled her hair and gave a lopsided grin. "Idiot. You're my family. I'd never leave you."
The kids cheered again, piling onto him like puppies. He groaned dramatically as they toppled him to the floor, but he laughed through it all, warmth flooding his chest.
For once, despite the ashes of his past life and the shadow of his father's legacy, Caelum felt something real.
Hope.
------
Meanwhile, outside the orphanage's cracked window, the storm rumbled. In the heart of Valemere, far away in her throne room, the five-year-old Empress Lilith Noctis was crowned under the watchful gaze of her council.
Their worlds were miles apart.
But fate was already weaving their paths together.