Part 1 — The Night of Birth
The storm began before nightfall.
It was not violent, but relentless. A dense, heavy rain that struck the stone rooftops as if the sky were releasing something it had held for far too long.
In Valthera, nights like that felt ancient.
Maelis Virell struggled to breathe.
Sweat ran down her neck, soaking the sheets. Her hands gripped the fabric tightly, not only from the physical pain, but from the certainty that this night would not end like any other.
Renar stood near the wall. Motionless. His hands tense behind his back.
He did not touch his wife.
He did not ask how she felt.
He stared at the floor.
He knew exactly what would happen after the birth.
"Breathe…" the midwife said firmly. "Almost there."
The first cry came quickly.
Strong.
Clear.
"It's a boy."
Darian Virell was born healthy.
Strong lungs.
Steady pulse.
"He's strong."
Renar raised his eyes for barely a second. He nodded.
Then, minutes later, another cry.
Softer.
More curious than desperate.
"It's a girl."
Smaller, but breathing calmly. She opened her eyes before crying, as if she wished to observe the world before announcing her arrival.
Maelis smiled as she held her briefly against her chest.
Then the third birth began.
And something changed.
The air grew heavy.
The candles flickered, though there was no wind.
The midwife frowned before speaking.
"This… this child is weak."
The cry was barely a thread of sound.
Lucan Virell was born pale, with irregular breathing and skin cold to the touch.
For one second — only one — no one spoke.
Then Renar stepped forward.
"Take the girl," he ordered. "Now."
Maelis turned her head sharply.
"What?"
"She is not part of this," he said without looking at her. "Take her out."
Aeris was wrapped and carried out of the room before she could truly cry.
The door closed.
The silence that followed was worse than the storm.
Part 2 — The Convergence Ritual
It was not a religious ritual.
It was a procedure.
In the center of the lower chamber, two circles of ancient stone had been activated — relics taken from forgotten ruins. Above each circle floated fragments suspended in the air. That was solidified Veyra: old energy, valuable, dangerous. Entire kingdoms traded for pieces far smaller than these.
It was worth more than gold.
Traded in secret.
Used for weapons. For Seals. For control.
Lucan and Darian were placed separately.
Darian first.
The energy flowed with stability.
The Seal closed cleanly.
"Stable Lumen."
"Compatible with Veyra."
A murmur of approval moved through the chamber.
Then it was Lucan's turn.
The moment the fragment touched his skin, the circle trembled.
The light did not grow brighter.
It grew heavier.
Not with force.
With resistance.
The light did not intensify. It became irregular. As if it were breathing.
The lines of the Seal began to trace… and twisted.
"Where is the Lumen?" someone asked.
"It's… there. But minimal."
Lucan struggled to breathe.
The Veyra, however, reacted erratically, as if responding to something no one else could feel.
"This is not normal," a voice muttered.
"It shouldn't be possible."
Lucan let out a weak groan. The air around his body seemed to ripple like heat over stone.
"Close the Seal," Renar ordered.
But everyone saw it.
Lucan's Seal did not look like his brother's.
It looked… incomplete.
The next day, a meeting.
No titles were spoken.
No records were kept.
Only a closed room and tense voices.
"We cannot ignore this."
"If it loses control—"
"It's a risk to Valthera."
The word son was not spoken once.
"Then he is a defective bearer," someone said.
"No," another voice corrected calmly. "He is something we do not yet understand."
That was worse.
They decided to experiment.
Observe.
Pressure.
Force.
Measure limits.
Lucan would not be raised.
He would be tested.
Lucan grew up in white rooms, cold and silent.
He did not know games.
He did not know songs.
He remembered white light.
Cold hands.
Pain.
Silent rooms where the echo of his own breathing sounded louder than any voice.
They did not hate him.
That would have been easier to understand.
They treated him as if he were not a person yet.
Aeris asked about him sometimes.
"He's sick," they told her.
Darian trained. Grew strong. He was the visible pride.
Lucan was the problem kept out of sight.
He trembled when the Seal reacted.
Sometimes the air vibrated.
Sometimes the walls cracked.
Once, a lamp exploded.
After each incident, the isolation grew worse.
Only one person sat in front of him without instruments, without gloves, without fear in his eyes.
"How are you today?" the man would ask, kneeling to meet his gaze.
Lucan didn't know how to explain what he felt.
But he knew that when that man was there… no one hurt him.
Part 3 — The Incident
He was eight when he almost died.
That day, they pushed the Seal further than usual. They wanted to measure how much his body could endure.
The experiment went too far.
The Seal responded with violence.
Energy burst outward in a pulse of blue-violet light. The walls shook. A table split in two.
Lucan's Lumen dropped to critical levels.
"Stop this!"
Lucan stopped breathing for a moment.
Alaric shoved everyone aside.
"ENOUGH!"
For a moment that felt endless… no one knew if he had crossed a point of no return.
That night, Alaric argued with Renar.
"You're killing him."
"I'm protecting the kingdom."
"Not like this."
"It's a risk we accepted."
"No. I didn't."
Silence.
"I'm taking him."
Renar did not respond.
He didn't need to.
The journey began at dawn.
Lucan was wrapped in a cloak far too big for him. He walked slowly, barely able to stay upright.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
Alaric smiled. "Away from here. For a while."
"With someone who won't see you as a mistake."
The road ended on a mountain stone path. There, waiting, stood another figure.
Dark hair streaked with gray. A face marked by old scars. A firm gaze.
He looked at Lucan first.
Then at the man beside him.
"I thought I'd never see you again," he said coldly.
"I'm not here for me."
"You never are."
Lucan looked at both men, confused.
"He needs someone to train him and take care of him," the first man continued. "Someone who won't see him as an experiment."
The scarred man let out a dry laugh.
"And now you care about that?"
Silence.
The tension between them was not new. It was old. Heavy. Filled with things not said in front of a child.
"I don't want him to end up like him," Alaric finally added.
Something shifted in the air.
The scarred man looked at Lucan again. This time, more closely.
The boy held his gaze.
He held it because he was used to being watched.
"What's your name?" the man asked.
Lucan hesitated for a second.
"Lucan."
The man nodded slowly.
"Eldric."
He looked at the other man one last time.
"I'll train him. But not for you."
There was no long farewell.
Just a small nod… and years of unresolved history hanging between them.
Lucan stepped toward Eldric, casting a final glance at Alaric.
He didn't know he was leaving a cage behind.
He only knew that, for the first time, no one was looking at him as if he were about to break.
End of Chapter 1