The chamber was suffused with an otherworldly stillness, broken only by the gentle crackle of the hearth casting dancing shadows across stone walls. Vincent sat rigid on the edge of their bed. Auburn hair fell across his brow like burnished copper, and his golden eyes—eyes that had witnessed countless battles—now held a vulnerability that war had never managed to instill.
Beside him, Aurora cradled their newborn child against her breast, her alabaster skin seeming to glow in the firelight. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid night, framing a face so ethereally beautiful it could have been carved by the gods themselves. Yet her obsidian eyes, usually fierce and commanding, now reflected a mother's quiet desperation.
"Aurora," Vincent whispered, "Why won't he wake? He didn't even cry, no movement... what manner of child enters this world in such silence?"
The baby lay motionless in her arms, chest rising and falling with the barest of breaths, as if he were merely sleeping after just being born. Hours had passed since his birth, yet he remained locked in an impenetrable slumber.
"The physician said he is completely fine," Aurora replied, her voice carrying none of its usual authority. Her fingers traced gentle patterns across the infant's forehead, as if her touch alone could coax him into consciousness. "She said he should wake up soon."
Vincent exhaled slowly, relief and anxiety warring in his chest. His gaze fell upon the child—*their* child—and something stirred within him. The baby's features were delicate yet somehow timeless, as if he had been waiting eons for this moment.
Then it happened.
A flutter. So slight it might have been imagined, yet Vincent's warrior instincts caught it instantly. The child's eyelids trembled, then began to part with agonizing slowness, like dawn breaking over distant mountains.
"Aurora," Vincent breathed, his voice catching. "Look."
The infant's eyes opened fully, revealing irises that blazed like molten gold shining ethereal and beautiful. The child's gaze was unnaturally focused, scanning their faces with an intelligence that sent ice through Vincent's veins.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Then the child's expression shifted, and Vincent watched in horror as those golden eyes began to darken, tears of liquid spilling down the child's cheeks. His face remained vacant of expression despite the tears.
The first tremor started beneath their feet.
Stone groaned against stone as the walls began to shudder. Outside, the sky erupted in supernatural fury—thunder crashed like the footsteps of titans, and lightning split the heavens with blinding fury. The very air grew thick and oppressive, as if the weight of eternity had suddenly descended upon their mortal realm.
"Vincent!" Aurora's voice cut through the chaos, terror replacing her usual composure. "What's happening? Are we under attack?"
But Vincent couldn't answer. His attention was fixed on their child, whose tears continued to flow even as his face remained eerily serene. Those darkened eyes stared unblinking at Aurora, and in their depths, Vincent glimpsed something that made his soul recoil—a sorrow that belonged to no new bornchild.
The pressure in the air intensified, and Vincent felt his knees buckle. His hand shot out, fingers closing around the hilt of his sword as he drove it into the stone floor to keep from collapsing entirely. His body shook violently as an invisible force pressed down upon him, crushing him beneath its immensity.
A force filled his surroundings, it resonated with the power inside him, but it was more eternal, more pure, shaking his very being.
And it was emanating from his newborn son.
Aurora clutched the child closer, her maternal instincts overriding her fear. Seeing the sorrow on her child's face she felt like her heart was being torn apart.
"Why are you in such pain. "she whispered, somehow she was completely unaffected by the force which even knelt her husband, one of the strongest people on the continent.
As if responding to her plea made by her hands holding the child to her chest, the child's eyes began to lighten, the darkness receding like shadows before dawn. The oppressive aura lifted, the walls ceased their trembling, and the storm outside faded to nothing more than a gentle breeze.
Vincent collapsed fully, his sword clattering beside him as he gasped for breath. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his hands shook uncontrollably.
"Vincent!" Aurora's face cracked, revealing the terrified woman beneath. "What happened? How.. How can a child have such power in him?"
He struggled to his feet, using the wall for support. "I... I don't know," he managed, his voice hoarse. "But whatever he is, he's ours. Our son." He forced a smile, though it felt like breaking glass.
Aurora's expression softened slightly, but before she could respond, the child in her arms began to convulse. His tiny body arched in pain, and crimson blood began to seep from his lips.
"No," Aurora whispered, her voice filled with panic. "No, no, no... Vincent, do something!"
Vincent's instinct kicked in, overriding his shock and exhaustion. Light burst from his hands as he summoned a rune, the symbols blazing to life in the air. The wooden plaque materialized in his grip, its surface inscribed with emergency teleportation sigils.
"Hold him tight," he commanded, his voice regaining its authority even as his heart shattered at the sight of his son's suffering.
He crushed the plaque in his fist, their bodies disappearing from the place.