The Child Who Shouldn't Be Sunlight poured into the high arched windows of the imperial nursery, casting golden shapes across the floor. Velvet drapes swayed in the soft breeze, and outside, the empire stirred to life.
Inside, however, the room was anything but calm. Queen Solinine stood quietly by the cradle, her eyes still rimmed with the echo of tears. Her hand trembled as she reached down to brush a strand of silver-white hair from the sleeping infant's forehead. Emperor Cobard sat nearby, silent, watching. The child had not made a sound since they'd returned, only sleeping peacefully too peacefully, as if even the air bent to his dreams.
"It's strange," Solinine whispered. "He hasn't cried. Not once." "He's strong,"
Cobard said. "Too strong."
The empress turned toward him. "You still haven't told anyone?"
"I will," Cobard said, though he didn't move.
"Just not yet. Not until I understand what he is."
There was a knock at the door. A royal attendant bowed. "Your Majesties… the Council awaits your presence in the Solar Hall."
Cobard stood. "Keep an eye on him." Solinine nodded, but her gaze remained fixed on the sleeping boy. The moment the door shut, the child opened his eyes. Gold-ringed pupils cut through the room like blades of light. He sat up in the cradle too smoothly, too controlled for a newborn. He glanced down at his hands again, flexing them slowly.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath, "let's see where I ended up this time." His gaze drifted to the room's far wall a large porcelain mirror stood there, flanked by two ceremonial swords. He focused on the mirror.
[Item: Enchanted Silverglass]
Age: 642 years
Owner: House Salverdine
Cultivation Level: Brimstone Veil]
He smirked. "Huh. Everything in this palace's drippin' with power."
He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Focusing again, he opened his inner vision that vast, endless space he'd accessed before. It welcomed him instantly, like an old friend. This time, he reached deeper. He didn't know how or why, but knowledge poured into him: symbols, languages, fighting styles, meditations. But there was something else now.Something… off. A faint pulse. A call. He heard it in the back of his mind not a voice, but a presence. Distant, yet connected.
. "Who..." he muttered aloud, then stopped. Someone was coming. The nursery door opened, and a tall woman stepped inside cloaked in white robes with golden embroidery. Her features were sharp, her eyes pale silver. A cleric. Behind her were two royal guards, both marked with the insignia of the Church of the Dawn Flame the empire's dominant religion.
The woman approached the cradle and studied the child. He stared right back. "He's… alert," she said, voice uncertain. One of the guards frowned.
"Ma'am, this baby gives me the creeps."
"Silence," the cleric hissed. "You feel his aura, don't you?" The second guard nodded.
"It's like standing near an open flame. But wrong. Too cold."
The cleric leaned closer, whispering something under her breath a divination spell, ancient and dangerous. Her eyes flared gold for a moment… and then she recoiled. Blood trickled from her nose. "What… what is this?" she gasped. The child tilted his head, eyes narrowing. For just a second, the room dimmed, and the flame of the torches turned black. The guards drew their weapons instantly.
"Easy now," he muttered barely a whisper, but the cleric's heart skipped.
"He spoke," she whispered. "He's not… a baby. He's something else."
"Get back!" one of the guards shouted. The child blinked, and the tip of the man's sword caught fire a ghostly black flame that didn't burn, but consumed. The guard dropped it with a yell.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," the child said softly. "But you're really pushing it."
Elsewhere in the palace, Sraverjek stirred again in the deep. One eye opened. He was dreaming. But not his own dream. The child was in it. He saw visions: A throne of flame. A broken sky. A crown of ash. He saw the child older and behind him, legions of beings not from this world.
"He will bring ruin," the dragon growled, low and ancient. "Or rebirth."
Then Sraverjek rose, truly woke, and began to move. Back in the Solar Hall, Emperor Cobard froze mid-sentence. A sharp pain bloomed in his chest not physical, but deep. His soul stirred, as if touched by a distant thunderclap. He turned toward the chamber doors. "Solinine" The doors burst open.
A soldier stumbled in, pale and panting.
"Your Majesty… the nursery… something's wrong!"
In the nursery, the cleric dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her face. Her voice trembled as she looked at the child.
"I've seen it… I've seen the Flame Beyond the Flame…"
The guards exchanged nervous glances. The child stood now standing. Not crawling. Not stumbling. Just standing, like he'd always known how.
"I don't know what you saw," he said, "but whatever it is… it's probably not good for me."
He turned, and for the first time, he looked toward the window. His golden pupils narrowed. He walked to it slowly, silently and looked out upon the Empire of Salverdine. A world vast, ancient, and powerful… and still, smaller than what he felt inside himself. A storm was coming. He could feel it. Suddenly, his vision blurred. The window warped reality twisted. A reflection not his own appeared in the glass. An eye. A golden eye. Not his. Something was watching him. His heart or whatever was in his chest now skipped. A deep voice echoed in his mind. Cold. Final. Divine. "You were not meant to be born."