POV: Third Person — Celestial Resonance Hall
The Vaelborn Capital was quiet.
Too quiet.
Inside the Celestial Resonance Hall, Matriarch Lyria Vaelborn held her newborn close, breathing shallowly as the aftershock of labor faded. The birthing chamber was warm, lit by steady crystal lamps, and warded by layers of protective spatial runes.
It should have been peaceful.
Instead, the runes around the walls flickered like disturbed water.
A soft tremor passed through the air—so faint a normal person would miss it. But every Vaelborn guard in the room felt their instincts spike. The air twisted, just slightly, like someone had brushed a hand against space itself.
The healers stepped back.The guards tightened their grips.The head midwife whispered, "Matriarch… the readings…"
Before she could finish, the doors opened.
They did not swing.They shifted, parting silently as if the space between them had been pulled aside.
Patriarch Zarek Vaelborn entered.
Tall. Calm. Terrifying without raising a hand.
Every person in the room bowed instantly.
Zarek walked straight to the dais. His gaze, sharp as a blade, moved from Lyria to the infant resting in her arms.
The newborn cried once—short, soft.
And the runes on the ceiling bent.
A few snapped apart in thin sparks.
For a moment, the entire room froze.
The Mapping Attempt
A spatial technician approached with trembling hands. "Patriarch, I—I prepared a lattice scan."
Zarek nodded.
A thin diagram of glowing lines formed around the child. The lattice was meant to show a newborn's spatial affinity, bloodline strength, and future development path.
It had worked perfectly for every Vaelborn heir for centuries.
But as soon as the lines touched the newborn—
Crack.They broke.
The lattice shattered into drifting particles of light.
Lyria gasped softly.The technician dropped to his knees.
Zarek didn't react outwardly, but a faint crease appeared between his brows.
He had expected a strong reading.Not a broken one.
A broken lattice meant one thing:
Unpredictable spatial signature.Anomaly-level deviation.
The newborn blinked up at him with dark, steady eyes—eyes too calm for a child only minutes old.
The Lumenshard Seer Arrives
Another pair of doors opened. A woman wearing silver robes stepped inside, escorted by guards.
A Lumenshard Seer.Even Zarek acknowledged her with a brief nod.
"The Obelisk reacted," she said quickly. "We checked every grid. Every map. Every fate-thread. Patriarch… your son has no destiny line."
The room went silent.
Not a single sensed thread.Not a single predictable future path.
To the Dominion, that was almost impossible.
"A blank future," the Seer whispered. "The last time the Obelisk reacted like this was—"
"Do not finish that sentence," Zarek said softly.
The Seer bowed her head instantly.
Lyria Speaks
Lyria looked down at her child, brushing a finger against his cheek. His crying had already stopped. He stared up at the world quietly, as if studying something only he could see.
"His name," Lyria said softly, "is Caelum."
Zarek's eyes sharpened.Lyria continued:
"He was like this even in the womb. Calm. Watching. Unaffected by fate readings. I knew something was different."
The baby yawned.
A small ripple spread around him, bending the air.
Just slightly.Just enough to make a guard drop his spear.
Zarek's Decision
The Seer swallowed. "Patriarch… the Tri-Council must be informed. A blank fate is—"
"No," Zarek said.
The room chilled.
"Not yet. Not until I decide what he is."
The Seer hesitated. "But—"
"Report nothing."
Her lips pressed thin. Then she bowed. "As you command."
Zarek placed one large hand on the cradle. The air steadied around his palm—as if space itself respected him.
But Caelum's presence kept tugging at the edges, warping lightly, like a breeze disturbing a curtain.
"He will stay in Vaelborn protection," Zarek said. "Close. Watched. Trained from the moment he opens his eyes."
Lyria smiled faintly. "He opened them the moment he was born."
Zarek paused.Then—very slightly—his lips curved.
"Ahead of schedule."
POV: First Person — Caelum (Newborn Fragment)
Warm.Soft.Light.
Things move around me. Too loud.
Something tries to wrap around… me?I push.It breaks.
A voice speaks above me—deep, steady.Another voice, warm, like safety.
I feel threads stretching toward me, asking questions.
I don't like them.I close them.
They vanish.
[Great Sage: Cognitive pattern detected. Stabilizing… complete.]
The world sharpens.
I feel space.I feel movement.I feel possibilities.
I don't know the words yet.
But I know this:
I am not trapped.
POV: Third Person — Rumors Spread
The palace buzzed within minutes.
An heir with no fate-thread.A Vaelborn child who broke the lattice.A baby who made runes flicker.
The guards whispered.The retainers whispered.Even the nobles who feared Lyria whispered behind closed doors.
Outside, in the city, a messenger bird flew toward the Guild district. They always sensed opportunity first.
And miles away, in Lumenshard territory, the Fate Obelisk glowed again—once, sharply—before falling dark.
No prophecy formed.No future appeared.
Just silence.
Zarek Looks Ahead
Later that night, Zarek stood alone on a balcony overlooking Vaelaris. The moon cast silver light across the towers, reflecting on countless spatial anchors humming in rhythm with the capital.
Behind him, Caelum slept soundly in Lyria's arms.
What kind of child breaks both space and fate at birth?
What kind of future starts with a blank map?
Zarek didn't fear the answer.
He welcomed it.
"He is Vaelborn," Zarek murmured. "The world will learn what that means."
Far above the Dominion, where fate-threads stretched like distant stars, one thread flickered into existence—thin, unstable, rebellious.
The Obelisk tried to catch it.
It slipped away.
A future unwritten had arrived.
And its name was Caelum Vaelborn.