The Empire did not sleep that night.
Whispers spread like wildfire of earthquakes shaking the palace, of divine apparitions, of a newborn child who did not cry and a dragon who stirred in his dungeon.
In the throne room, Cobard stood in silence.
The great windows were dark, the moon veiled behind clouds. Only the faint hum of ancient enchantments filled the chamber.
The emperor's fists clenched behind his back.
Across from him knelt a small group of his most trusted Shadow Wardens elite spies loyal only to the throne.
"Find out everything," Cobard commanded.
"The cults, the scholars, the heretics whispering about flame and void. I want every name."
The head Warden bowed low. "What about the Church, Your Majesty?"
Cobard's voice lowered to a growl.
"Especially the Church."
As the wardens vanished into shadow, Solinine entered quietly, her face pale.
"He's asleep," she whispered. "But…"
Cobard turned. "But what?"
She looked away. "He talks in his sleep. Not nonsense. Real things. Names of places, weapons,empires, Wars that haven't happened yet.
Cobard stepped toward her, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then we learn. We prepare. We train him."
Soline's voice cracked.
"We raise a child who may never see adulthood…"
In the Tower of Dawn FlameHigh Priest Valcor read the letter again. His hands trembled slightly, but not from fear.
From rage.
The seal of the Pantheon was clear Aexion's divine message had been verified.
"Voidflame Returned. Must not reach Seventh Year. Mortal intervention permitted. Expect resistance from Salverdine."
Valcor slammed the scroll down.
They had prayed for a child of destiny but not this one.
One of his bishops entered quietly. "What shall we do, Eminence?"
Valcor turned toward the fire.
"Summon the Inquisitors."
Deep in the mountains of NorrveilSix cloaked figures knelt in a ruined temple. In the center, a massive stone table glowed with red runes. Upon it, an ancient prophecy had begun to rewrite itself a living spell reacting to the child's existence.
Lines once dormant now shone bright:
"And in the Seventh Cycle, born not of this world, the Child of Flame and Void shall awaken. Crownless, nameless, cursed to burn and never break. If he lives, the gods fall."
One voice hissed from the shadows. "He must not live."
But another, softer, replied, "Or he must choose."
The others fell silent.
The debate had begun.
Back in SalverdineThe child stood alone in the royal gardens.
The moon had broken through the clouds now, casting silver light over the dew-covered grass. He looked up at it, arms crossed.
His mind was quiet,too quiet.
Ever since Aexion's visit, something inside him had shifted. His power wasn't just growing ,it was sharpening. His senses were reaching further. He could feel hearts beating inside birds in nearby trees. He could tell the age of stones by touching them. He saw threads of intent in the air around people slivers of their next few seconds of action.
He was becoming something other than human.
But he didn't know what.
Behind him, a soft voice spoke.
"You shouldn't be out here alone."
He turned.
A tall woman stepped from behind a tree, wearing no armor, no royal crest but the way she moved, the way the shadows bent around her… he knew.
"You're an assassin," he said simply.
She smiled.
"Correct. Or I was."
He didn't flinch. "Here to kill me?"
She approached, hands visible.
"If I was, you'd already be dead."
"Debatable."
She chuckled. "Fair enough."
Then she knelt
not reverently, but respectfully.
"I came to warn you."
"About?"
"There are three groups hunting you already," she said. "The Church. A southern cult. And something worse. Something old."
His brow furrowed. "You don't work for any of them?"
"No. I serve someone else. Someone who believes you should live long enough to choose your own path."
"Who?"
She looked up at him with sharp eyes. "The one who brought you here."
The child's heart skipped.
"You know who brought me?"
She stood again. "I know a fragment. A whisper. But yes."
He stared at her. "Why are you helping me?"
She tilted her head. "Because if you die, the world stays the same. And the world needs to change."
He said nothing.
She turned to go, fading into the garden mist like a dream. But before she vanished entirely, she paused.
"Oh," she added. "You might want to check the northern tower at midnight. There's someone there who's been watching you since you arrived."
He narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
She disappeared without answering.
That MidnightThe child walked alone through the palace.
No guards.
He didn't need them.
His steps were silent. He knew where the patrols were, knew how to walk in shadows now. His instincts were evolving faster than he could explain.
He reached the northern tower.
At the top: a sealed chamber, no handle, no lock.
Just a wall.
He placed his hand on it.
And it vanished.
Inside sat a man in black robes, face hidden behind a porcelain mask. The moment the child entered, the man stood.
"You're early."
The child stepped inside.
"Who are you?"
The man didn't answer. He only raised one hand and the same black flames the child had wielded burst to life in his palm.
The boy's eyes widened. "You… have Voidflame?"
"No," the masked man said. "You do."
Then he removed the mask.
And the child stared into his own face older, scarred, eyes wiser… and hollow.
"I'm you."