Three months had passed since Ashen's birth, and the world had expanded considerably.
The nursery remained his primary domain, but he'd been carried throughout enough of the Silverion estate to begin constructing a mental map of the place. The castle was larger than he'd initially estimated—four main wings surrounding a central courtyard, with the family quarters occupying the entire northern wing. Training grounds to the east, administrative buildings to the south, servants' quarters and storage to the west.
All of it protected by walls reinforced with essence-infused stone and patrolled by guards who carried themselves with the confidence of experienced soldiers.
Ashen had also grown more coordinated. His infant body was developing faster than normal, though he was careful to keep his progress within believable parameters. He could hold his head up reliably now, track objects with his eyes, and grasp things that were placed in his hands. Rolling over was possible but exhausting, and he'd managed it exactly twice under his mother's watchful gaze.
She'd been thrilled both times, calling for Aldric to witness the achievement even though it was, objectively, the most basic of infant milestones.
But that was parenthood, he supposed. Every small thing felt monumental when it was your child doing it.
Morning sunlight streamed through the nursery windows as Seraphina dressed Ashen in fresh clothes. She hummed while she worked, a melody he'd heard several times now but still couldn't identify.
"Big day today," she told him, fastening the last button on his small tunic. "You're going to meet the healers for your quarterly examination. They want to make sure everything is developing properly."
Quarterly examination. That's... concerning. What if they detect the amplification the system performed?
He must have made some sound of distress because Seraphina immediately scooped him up, holding him close.
"It's alright, sweetheart. The healers are very gentle. They'll just use a little essence to check your growth patterns and spiritual pathways. Won't hurt a bit, I promise."
That's exactly what I'm worried about. Spiritual pathway examination might reveal abnormalities.
But there was nothing he could do except wait and see. The system had mentioned concealment protocols. Presumably they extended to medical examinations.
The healer's wing was in the southern section of the castle, a suite of rooms that smelled strongly of herbs and something astringent that made Ashen's nose wrinkle. Seraphina carried him into a bright room where an elderly woman waited.
Master Healer Celeste was probably in her seventies, with silver hair bound in a complex braid and hands that moved with the precision of someone who'd spent decades studying human anatomy. Her essence presence felt substantial—probably C-Rank Advanced, maybe even approaching B-Rank.
"Duchess," Celeste greeted with a respectful bow. "And young Master Ashen. Three months old already. Time moves quickly."
"Too quickly," Seraphina agreed, placing Ashen on the examination table. "He's been developing well, but I wanted your professional assessment."
"Of course. Let's see what we have."
Celeste placed her hands on Ashen's chest, and he felt essence flow into him. It was gentle, non-invasive, like warm water filling a cup. The sensation spread through his small body, mapping pathways and measuring capacities.
He held very still, trying not to react beyond normal infant curiosity.
The examination lasted several minutes. Celeste's expression remained professionally neutral throughout, though Ashen thought he detected a slight widening of her eyes at one point.
Finally, she withdrew her essence and stepped back.
"Well?" Seraphina asked, tension evident in her voice.
"Healthy. Very healthy, in fact." Celeste made notes in a leather-bound journal. "His spiritual pathways are well-formed for his age. Essence capacity is... substantial. Above average, certainly."
"Is that concerning?"
"Not at all. Some children are simply born with greater potential. Given your husband's B-Rank cultivation and your own abilities, it's hardly surprising your youngest would have strong foundations."
She can sense something. Not everything—the concealment is working—but enough to know I'm not normal.
"And his physical development?" Seraphina prompted.
"Also excellent. Muscle tone is good, coordination is developing appropriately. His grip strength is a bit advanced for three months, but that's within normal variance." Celeste smiled. "You have a gifted child, Duchess. Nothing to worry about, everything to be proud of."
Seraphina visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Master Celeste. That's a relief to hear."
After the examination, they stopped by Aldric's office. The Duke was reviewing maps when they entered, probably planning patrol routes or assessing border defenses.
"How was the examination?" he asked without looking up.
"Master Celeste says he's developing beautifully. Strong spiritual pathways, above average essence capacity."
Now Aldric looked up, interest sharpening his gaze. "Above average? How far above?"
"She didn't specify exact measurements, but she seemed impressed."
Aldric stood and crossed to where Seraphina held Ashen, studying his youngest son with new attention. "Strong foundations are a blessing, but they can also attract unwanted attention. We'll need to be careful about who knows his potential before his awakening ceremony."
"You think it's that significant?"
"I think any child of ours will be watched by rival houses. If word spreads that our youngest shows exceptional promise..." Aldric shook his head. "Better to keep such details private. Family only."
Smart. He understands that power attracts danger, especially potential power that's still developing. He's protecting me by controlling information. I can work with that.
The afternoon brought an unexpected visitor. Ashen was napping—or pretending to nap while actually listening to Mira gossip with another servant—when the nursery door opened and Lyra swept in.
"Where's my adorable baby brother?" she called out, apparently not caring if he was actually asleep.
Mira shushed her. "Young miss, the baby is resting."
"Then I'll rest with him!" Lyra approached the crib and peered down at Ashen, who'd opened his eyes at the commotion. "See? He's awake. Hello, tiny human! Remember me? I'm your cool older sister."
I remember you're the one who seems to do whatever she wants without much regard for rules or structure.
Lyra reached down and, without asking permission from the scandalized Mira, lifted Ashen out of his crib. She was surprisingly gentle despite her exuberant energy.
"You're getting heavier," she observed, settling into the rocking chair with him. "Three months and you're already so much bigger. Babies grow fast."
Mira hovered nervously. "Young miss, perhaps I should—"
"I've held babies before. He's fine." Lyra waved her away. "Go take a break. I'll watch him for a bit."
After Mira reluctantly left, Lyra looked down at Ashen with an expression that was surprisingly thoughtful.
"You know what's interesting about you?" she said quietly. "Everyone else in this family has a role. Reikan's the heir, so he has to be serious and responsible all the time. Elara does all the administrative work because she's good at it. Kael trains constantly because he wants to lead our armies. Even I have my thing—I'm the adventurous one who doesn't fit into any box."
She adjusted Ashen in her arms.
"But you? You're too young to have a role yet. You can be anything. Isn't that amazing? You're the only one in this whole family who doesn't have expectations weighing on them."
If you only knew the expectations I have for myself.
"I hope you stay that way," Lyra continued. "Free, I mean. Don't let them push you into a box just because it's convenient for the family structure. Be whatever you want to be."
It was unexpectedly profound advice from someone Ashen had written off as flighty.
Lyra sat there for nearly an hour, sometimes talking to him about her recent hunting trips or the interesting plants she'd found in the northern forests, sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence while she rocked the chair gently.
When Seraphina returned and found them, she smiled.
"Being a good sister?"
"The best sister," Lyra corrected. "I'm his favorite."
"You can't be his favorite. He's three months old. He doesn't have favorites yet."
"Of course he does. Look how relaxed he is. That means I'm winning."
Seraphina laughed and shook her head, but she didn't try to take Ashen away. The three of them stayed there together for a while, mother and daughter and infant son, wrapped in the kind of casual family moment that Ashen had never experienced in his previous life.
It was nice.
Disturbingly nice, actually, in that it made him want more of these moments. Want to protect them. Want to ensure this family stayed intact and happy for as long as possible.
That evening, after Lyra had left and Seraphina had put him down for the night, Ashen lay in his crib staring at the ceiling.
The system pulsed once in his consciousness.
[PRIMORDIAL AMPLIFICATION SYSTEM]
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No techniques detected.
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Still the same message. Still no techniques to amplify or track. I'm three months old. That's expected. But the healer's examination confirmed what I suspected—the amplification is real and active, even if it's hidden. Above average essence capacity. Strong spiritual pathways.
That's my primordial physique and bloodline starting to manifest. Concealed enough to seem merely talented rather than impossible. Perfect.
He thought about Lyra's unexpected wisdom. About being free to choose his own path. About not letting others' expectations define him.
The irony was that he'd already chosen his path—absolute power leading to absolute freedom. That was his expectation for himself, self-imposed but more demanding than anything his family might want from him.
But maybe Lyra had a point about one thing: he didn't have to fit into anyone else's box. The family seemed content to let him develop naturally, discover his own interests, become whatever he was meant to become.
They just didn't know what he was meant to become was something that had never existed before.
A being with primordial-tier potential hiding in plain sight as an unremarkable ducal son.
It would take years of careful management. Decades of maintaining the balance between showing enough talent to be respectable and hiding enough power to stay beneath dangerous notice.
But he had time. Five years until awakening. Then years at the academy. Then more years of slow, steady advancement in public while his real growth happened in secret.
He was patient. He could do this.
The window showed stars emerging in the darkening sky. Ashen watched them appear one by one, distant points of light in an endless void.
Somewhere out in that vastness, cosmic threats were preparing. Dimensional rifts that would eventually tear reality. Corrupted cultivators ascending to godhood with no regard for mortal life. Forces that viewed entire worlds as expendable resources.
All of it detailed in the novel he'd read, all of it scheduled to arrive decades from now when he'd be in his prime.
And when they came, the Silverion family—his family—would be protected. Not because they knew to prepare. Not because they understood the threats.
But because their youngest son had spent every moment since birth getting ready for a war no one else knew was coming.
That was love, in its own strange way.
Protecting people by ensuring they never had to know how much danger they'd been in.
Ashen closed his eyes and let sleep take him.
Three months down. Fifty-seven more until awakening.
And then the real work could begin.