The sun broke gently over the skies of Elaria, casting golden beams across the royal city of Elaria. Its marble towers shimmered under the sapphire light of the retreating moon, but the one who stood on the balcony of the highest spire did not notice.
Vaelion Ebonhart ,first prince of Elaria stared blankly across the horizon. His deep black hair stirred gently in the morning breeze, and the sapphire tint in his eyes reflected the moon's lingering light.
"...That dream again," he murmured.
In the fading echoes of his sleep, he had seen another version of himself. Crimson-eyed, draped in a blood-red cloak, an aura of violet lightning tearing through time itself.
He shook his head.
"Impossible," he muttered. "There's no such thing as versions of me."
Just then, the door to his chamber creaked open.
"Your Highness," said a maid, bowing respectfully. "Today is the Class Identification Ceremony. The High Council awaits your arrival."
Vaelion sighed, brushing a hand through his dark locks. "Yeah. Let's get it over with."
The grand marble hall of the Elarian Capital Academy buzzed with anticipation. Students from noble houses and common villages alike had gathered to undergo their Class Identification — a rite that would determine their combat potential and future roles within the kingdom.
A tall man in gold-trimmed robes stood at the altar.
"The next to be tested—Vaelion Ebonhart, First Prince of Elaria."
The room quieted instantly. Every noble held their breath.
Vaelion stepped forward, indigo cloak billowing, sapphire eyes glowing faintly. His presence alone seemed to warp the air.
He touched the crystal.
It exploded in radiant light.
The council members stood. One dropped their quill.
"Impossible..." someone gasped. "Four classes...!"
"Swordsman... Monk... Mage... and... a God Class?"
A deafening silence followed.
The crystal pulsed with celestial energy as a voice echoed in the chamber.
"Voidstep Resolver."
A hush fell again.
Vaelion blinked. "God Class...?"
A younger mage trembled. "Only gods are born with unique Classes. If a mortal bears one..."
"Then he's not mortal," said a trembling old seer. "He's the reincarnation of a god."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The High Seer stepped forward. "And under what moon were you born, Prince Vaelion?"
He replied quietly, "Sapphire."
The hall erupted in cries.
"That moon hasn't appeared in over ten thousand years!"
"He's the only child ever recorded born beneath it..."
The King stood from his throne.
"Let it be known," he declared, voice booming, "that Vaelion Ebonhart is the prophesied Azure Heir — born beneath the Sapphire Moon."
That night, as celebrations continued, Vaelion wandered the palace gardens. The moon shone full above — no longer sapphire, just silver.
He breathed deeply. The world had changed around him.
"So, you're the famous Sapphire Prince, huh?"
The voice came from a woman seated on the edge of a fountain.
She had long black hair that shimmered like night silk, eyes crimson like the moon during an eclipse.
"You don't bow, huh?" Vaelion raised a brow.
She smirked. "Why would I bow to a god who doesn't know how to smile?"
He blinked.
She stood, brushing off her skirt. Her presence was sharp—like a sword wrapped in velvet.
"Name's Lunaria," she said, meeting his gaze. "Half-goddess. Half-trouble. Full-time swordswoman."
He chuckled. "Vaelion. Full-time prince. Part-time prisoner."
Their laughter echoed softly through the moonlit garden.
And thus, the first thread of fate tightened.
To be continued..