Time was a cruel companion. For Tyberius Freeman, days dragged on with merciless slowness. Each sunrise mocked him, reminding him that his body remained bound by the frailty of youth.
Had it been within his power, he would have torn through the years, vaulting into an age when his limbs were strong and his sword arm steady. Instead, he remained trapped, an old soul in a child's frame.
At three years old, his mind was already far beyond his body's limits. The knowledge of Kane Brawn burned in his skull like a furnace, pushing him to grow faster, to act sooner, to reclaim the strength that had once been his. Yet the flesh betrayed him. His legs wobbled, his voice was soft, his hands too small to wield steel.
When he turned five months old, he had already begun to walk, and by seven he could move with balance. He had hidden this from Melinda, not wanting to alarm her with what might seem unnatural. Soon after, he mastered speech, another feat that astonished any who heard him.
But none of these small victories brought him closer to what he craved: awakening the first volume of the Sword of Scripture.
That power would not stir without peril. To unlock it, he needed danger, real, mortal danger.
Back on Gaia, he had awakened in the shadow of death, when the blade of an enemy was poised to end his life. But here? The fiercest threat he faced was the occasional heat of the midday sun streaming through his window.
It was maddening. Each day of safety was a chain shackled around his neck.
Still, he did what he could. Tyberius refused to let his new body atrophy into softness. He made sticks his swords, carving patterns in the air outside their cottage. His movements were clumsy, yes, but repetition burned discipline into his small frame. One day, those motions would translate into killing blows.
It was during one such afternoon of training that Tyberius returned to find his mother changed.
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Mother's Worry
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Melinda sat slumped in her chair, her posture wilted, her eyes hidden beneath a curtain of hair. The woman he knew, bright, silly, endlessly cheerful, was gone, replaced by someone quiet, fragile, broken.
Tyberius approached her slowly. At five years old, his speech was clear, his tone thoughtful in a way no child's should be.
"Mom… what's wrong?"
Her head lifted at his voice, and though she tried to force a smile, the tears betrayed her. Her cheeks were damp, her lashes swollen. She quickly turned away, rubbing her face with the back of her hand.
"Ty," she said softly, as if his name alone could explain everything.
He touched her arm, his small fingers warm against her skin. "Mom."
"Nothing is wrong, sweetheart." Her words were too quick, too brittle.
But he could see the truth. He always could.
Melinda, sensing his persistence, tried to distract him. With sudden energy, she scooped him into her lap, pinching his cheeks, forcing laughter where there should have been none.
"You're such a mama's boy," she teased, her voice pitched higher than normal. "My little puffball. What am I supposed to do with you, hmm?" She pressed her forehead against his and rocked him back and forth until his laughter, reluctant at first, joined hers.
For her sake, Tyberius played along. He grinned, feigned annoyance at her teasing, even wriggled to escape her embrace. Yet as he laughed, his eyes drifted just for a moment to the table beside her. A document lay there, droplets dried into faint stains.
That was the source. He knew it instantly.
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Secret Unfold
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That night, when the cottage had fallen into silence and Melinda's breathing deepened in slumber, Tyberius rose. Barefoot, he padded to the sitting room, his small frame casting a faint shadow against the flickering lamplight.
The paper remained on the table, undisturbed. He lifted it with care, his hands tightening as he read the words.
So that was it. The reason for her tears.
By the time he lowered the parchment, his jaw was set, and his small hands had wrinkled the edge in anger. "Those bastards," he whispered through clenched teeth. His heart hammered with fury, a storm locked in too small a vessel.
For long hours he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, mind racing. How could he ease her suffering? How could he shield her from the cruelties of the court when he himself remained so weak? He hated the helplessness more than anything. His vows of vengeance extended beyond Kaiden now, he would not allow anyone to break Melinda.
Dawn arrived without sleep.
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Promises Of Outdoor
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"Wake up, sleepyhead!"
Her voice was bright again, full of cheer as though the night before had never happened. Tyberius blinked groggily, raising his head to find her already dressed. She wore a simple gown, plain enough to blend among commoners. Only her beauty, radiant as always, betrayed her noble connection.
"Mom?" He rubbed his eyes. "What's with all the dressing?"
"Today is special," she said, the corners of her lips tilting upward.
"Special?" he echoed, doubtful.
"Yes," she replied, bending to ruffle his dark hair of blue hue. "We're going out, to the bustling city of Galica!"
Tyberius froze.
Galica. The capital of Valeria. The very heart of the kingdom ruled by the man whose blood ran in his veins, the king he is coming to despise. His so-called father.
"Mom… are you serious?" His voice cracked with disbelief.
She only laughed, already pulling garments from the chest to dress him. Commoner's clothing, modest but clean, the kind that would not draw attention.
He frowned. "You've never gone farther than a few miles. Why now?"
Her smile didn't falter. "Because it's time. You'll love it."
And that was that.
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Past The Gate
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Doubts churned in his chest as they walked together. Tyberius remained skeptical, even as they neared the palace gates. He expected the guards to deny them, to send them back, to remind his mother of her place.
Instead, the soldiers halted them only for routine confirmation. A glance at their papers, a brief inquiry about their destination, and the gates creaked open.
Tyberius's heart skipped a beat.
The world beyond stretched wide and unbound, sunlight spilling across roads that led far from the palace's suffocating walls. For the first time since his rebirth, his feet carried him beyond confinement, into freedom.
He drew in a breath, the air richer, sharper somehow. This was the first step of many. He could feel it.
No matter what awaited them in Galica, this moment carved itself into his memory. The day he left the palace behind.
The day the cage opened.