'So, The Age of Celestial Sages… huh.'
I let the name of the novel roll around in my head, the memory of Kael Davis's final hours feeling distant and strange. I stared at my tiny, five-year-old hands. They still felt unfamiliar, clumsy.
'Why this novel? Why now? It wasn't even finished.'
I remembered being excited about the current conflict—the protagonist, Lucien Luminaris, was still only just starting the second major arc, focused on gathering power and attending the Academy. The cosmic, world-ending threats were still far in the future.
My mind, still operating under Kael Davis's logic, tried to categorize the event: 'I am definitely Reincarnated, not Transmigrated, as I am only remembering my previous life's memories.' I was Kael Davis.
The facts of my new life were clear. My name in this life is Elias von Draconis, the heir to the Draconis Archduchy.
'But according to the novel, there should not be a character named Elias.'
The Draconis family was legendary for its immense power but infamous for its low birth rate. The lore stated that the Archduke and Archduchess never had a child.
'I shouldn't exist according to the novel. My very Existence is changing the plot, not that I know much of the plot.'
The thought was cut short by a faint, mechanical click.
The heavy, carved oak door to the chamber slowly began to open.
The soft sound of the latch was immediately followed by a whirlwind of movement as a woman stormed into the room. She was breathtaking—tall, with a naturally grace that was currently undermined by utter disarray. Her hair, the color of polished silver that seemed to catch and reflect the dim light of the chamber, was slightly undone, escaping the jeweled pin meant to hold it. She was dressed in an expensive gown of deep sapphire, though the silk was rumpled from lack of sleep.
She paid no attention to the opulence of the room; her focus was entirely on me.
She moved quickly, but without haste, until she was kneeling on the thick, woven carpet beside me. This was Archduchess Elara Astrum, my mother in this life.
She was the epitome of refined nobility, yet her hands, as she checked my pulse against the back of her slender wrist, were shaking. Her silver eyes—the same shade as her hair—were wide, glazed with sleeplessness and palpable fear.
She smoothed the folds of my silk nightshirt, her movements meticulous and gentle, as if I were made of fragile glass. Then, she leaned down and pressed a gentle, protective kiss to my brow.
"Eli," she whispered, her voice husky and low, a sound of immense relief mixed with a lingering terror. "You are awake. Thank the heavens. Do not move."
Her entire focus was on my body, my temperature, my breath. "Mother, I am fine. The fever is gone," I said, managing a slightly steadier tone this time.
She pulled back, her silver eyes scanning my face for any lingering sign of sickness. The terror in her eyes was a raw, physical thing that filled the air.
"'Fine'?" she echoed, her voice cracking slightly. "You were unconscious for four days, Elias! It wasn't just a fever, it was your bloodline awakening, Eli! And you awakened both your father's and my bloodline at the same time! Two awakenings at once, three years too early! The immense power of the Dragon and the sheer authority of the Star colliding inside a five-year-old body! No one has ever survived that simultaneous surge. It was very dangerous and unprecedented."
She pulled me into a fierce, suffocating hug. Her protectiveness was absolute, bordering on a desperate, fearful possession.
"I am sorry to worry you, Mother," I muttered, knowing that surviving was the only true apology she cared about.
A new sound came from the door—not the frantic rush of Elara, but a slow, heavy tread. The man who entered was a towering figure whose presence seemed to command the very stone of the ancient Keep. This was Archduke Lucius Draconis, my father.
He had the dark, rugged look associated with the Draconis house, with severe features and eyes the same profound amethyst purple as my own. Unlike Mother, his emotions were tightly suppressed, but the lines of fatigue and worry around his eyes were stark.
He crossed the room silently and placed a massive, warm hand on my forehead, his touch gentle yet incredibly grounding. He wasn't checking for temperature; he was running a diagnostic through my skin.
A moment later, a deep, resonant sigh escaped him. "He is stable, Elara." He looked at me, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. "You survived the crucible, little dragon. You have always been strong."
"The power of the Dragon and the Star, merged at once. That is a dangerous gift, Elias."
He reached out and gently ran a finger over the silver hair that covered my brow. His eyes, the same purple as mine, held a terrifying mixture of pride, relief, and unwavering protection.
I was the son of two of the most powerful people in Celestria, and for the first time, I felt the comforting, terrifying weight of their combined shield over me.
'The plot is broken', I thought, closing my eyes.