A few days after my culinary adventure, the castle was filled with a palpable excitement that had nothing to do with military matters or political intrigue. The same doctor who had delivered me was seen rushing toward my mother's chambers with an urgency usually reserved for emergencies. But the expressions on the faces of the staff weren't worried they were joyous.
A maid found me in the grand library, where I had been studiously reading about magical theory while Kaelus dozed on his velvet cushion nearby. She fell to her knees before speaking, tears of pure happiness streaming down her face.
"It's a miracle, Young Master! Her Grace, the Duchess, is expecting again! The castle hasn't been this joyous since we learned she was carrying you!"
The blessing had worked exactly as Tes had promised. But what I hadn't anticipated was how the timing would be interpreted by everyone else in the castle.
They attributed this "miracle" to the bowl of ramen I had created.
The rumor spread through the castle like wildfire, then leaked beyond our walls into the broader kingdom. Within weeks, word had reached the capital that House Wight had created a "fertility dish" of unprecedented power. The head chef, who had been given official credit for the recipe to protect my identity, suddenly found himself the most sought-after culinary artist in all of Aerthos. Discreet inquiries began arriving from noble houses across the Seven Kingdoms, all asking about the possibility of commissioning this miraculous meal.
Even Duke Morpheus Black, a man desperately trying to secure a male heir after producing only one daughter, was rumored to be offering a staggering sum for our head chef's services.
My father handled these requests with his typical diplomatic skill, neither confirming nor denying the dish's supposed properties while making it clear that our family chef was far too valuable to be loaned out. But privately, I could see he was deeply amused by the entire situation.
"Alarion," he said one evening during our family dinner, a rare smile playing on his lips, "I'm not sure whether to be proud of your culinary innovation or concerned about the political implications of you accidentally creating what half the kingdom believes is a magical fertility treatment."
The months of my mother's pregnancy were a time of serene happiness in the castle unlike anything I had experienced before. The constant, underlying tension that had existed since the assassination attempt finally began to ease. My mother's joy was infectious, radiating through every interaction and conversation.
This pregnancy was different from her first. She was more confident, more relaxed. The fearful overprotectiveness that had characterized my early years was replaced by a calmer, more measured form of care. I spent hours with her, listening to stories of my father's adventures as a young knight and hearing her plans for the future. These conversations were precious, glimpses into the personalities of my parents that went far beyond their ducal roles.
Then, the day finally came. I sat in the corridor outside my mother's chambers with my father, the silence between us thick with anticipation. Kaelus hovered beside my chair, his usual gentle bobbing motion stilled as he sensed the tension in the air.
The sounds from within the chamber were muffled but unmistakable voices calling instructions, hurried movement, and then, finally, a sound that made my heart stop: the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn baby.
The great doors opened, and a herald stepped forward, his voice booming with a joy that echoed through the entire castle. "Today, another member of the noble House of Wight graces us with their presence! A new princess is born!"
Cheers erupted through the castle like a wave, starting from our corridor and radiating outward until the entire structure seemed to ring with celebration. Fireworks began painting the night sky outside, visible through the tall windows sapphire-blue lions roaring silently in the darkness.
When we were finally allowed to enter the chamber, I saw my mother cradling a small bundle, her face radiant with exhaustion and pure, unadulterated joy. A tiny face peeked out from the soft blankets pink and perfectly formed, with the unmistakable chubby cheeks that seemed to be a family trait.
This was my sister. My blood. My family.
In my past life, I had been utterly alone. No parents, no siblings, no family of any kind. I had been a solitary fighter, an outcast who had to claw and struggle for every scrap of recognition, every small success. I had told myself this new family was simply a pleasant circumstance, a lucky break that I could appreciate without becoming too emotionally invested. I was a reincarnator, an outsider wearing the face of their son.
But seeing this tiny, helpless person this little piece of my own blood and soul something inside me broke completely. The carefully constructed walls of detachment I had built over two lifetimes, the cynical armor of an orphan who knew he could only rely on himself, crumbled into dust. It left me emotionally naked and vulnerable in a way I had never experienced before.
This was real. This was my family. This was my sister.
Tears, hot and unstoppable, welled in my eyes and streamed down my face. They weren't tears of sadness or pain, they were tears of an overwhelming, soul-shaking emotion. It was the feeling of a connection so profound and immediate that my body couldn't contain it.
A single, fierce, primal vow formed in the core of my being, burning itself into my consciousness with the intensity of a brand: Never. She would never know the loneliness, the fear, the desperate struggle that had defined my first life. I would burn the entire world to ash before I let anyone or anything harm her.
Kaelus, sensing the tidal wave of emotion through our bond, nudged my shoulder gently with his smooth, warm surface. The gesture was comforting, a silent promise that I wasn't alone in this intense moment.
My mother looked up from the baby and saw me crying, her expression immediately shifting to one of tender concern. "Oh, Alarion, my sweet lion, what is it? Are you worried that Mommy won't love you as much now that you have a sister?"
She held the baby out toward me. I could see my sister's eyes the same brilliant sapphire blue as our mother's tracking toward my face with the unfocused attention of a newborn. Then, with a movement that seemed almost deliberate, she lifted one tiny hand and placed it on my nose. Her touch was impossibly soft, a feather-light connection that grounded me in the here and now.
This feeling… This was home. This was what I had been unconsciously searching for in both lives not just love, but belonging. Not just acceptance, but an unconditional, unbreakable connection.
My father stepped forward and gathered both of us into a gentle, encompassing embrace, his large, calloused hands careful not to disturb the baby. "Welcome to the family, little one," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
He named her Lyra Wight. The name, meaning "lyre" in the old tongue, suggested music and beauty a gentle counterpoint to the warrior names that dominated our family's history. But for me, her name was a promise, a reason, the ultimate motivation that would drive every decision I made from this moment forward.
Lyra Wight. My sister. My responsibility. My heart, now walking around outside my body in the most vulnerable form imaginable.
The quiet research and theoretical tinkering that had occupied my time were no longer enough. The casual approach to learning magic suddenly felt like criminal negligence. I needed more. I needed to become stronger, faster, more capable. I needed to build a fortress around my family so impenetrable that no threat not from the schemes of House Black, not from the monsters in the dungeons, not from the great kingdoms beyond our borders could ever reach them.
The hamster in my brain, which had been idly jogging on its wheel for years, suddenly began to sprint at full tilt. Magic was powerful, but it had limits. Science from my old world had different rules and different limitations. But what if I combined them? What if I used the knowledge of my previous life to revolutionize the power systems of this new one?
"Magitech," I whispered to myself, a new, unshakeable resolve hardening my soul like steel in a forge.