Elyrain Continent — Empire of Voltaire — Royal Capital: Volaris
The night was restless. Above the royal palace, even the stars seemed to tremble. Their faint light bounced off the cold marble courtyards below.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. Behind grand, gold-trimmed doors, the cries of the Empress echoed. They were sharp, exhausted, and full of pain. A dozen maids rushed around the large bedroom. Their hands shook as they carried hot water and clean towels. They whispered panicked prayers, the heavy scent of burning incense and medicinal herbs filling the room.
Outside those doors paced Emperor Alaric Voltaire. He ruled the Voltaire Empire on the Elyrain Continent. Usually, he was a man of iron will. He had faced wars, crushed rebellions, and stared down death without blinking.
But right now? He was just a terrified husband.
His heavy boots clicked against the polished floor. His jaw was tight. His hands were clasped so hard behind his back that his knuckles had turned white. Every strained breath from his wife cut him deeper than a sword.
Then, the heavy silence shattered.
*Waaaah!*
It was the loud, clear cry of a newborn.
For a second, the whole world stopped. Alaric froze mid-step, his heart hammering against his ribs. The heavy doors finally creaked open. The head maid stepped out, her face glowing with relief.
"Your Majesty," she bowed, her voice shaking with joy. "Congratulations. The Empress has given birth to a healthy boy!"
The iron emperor finally relaxed. He didn't say a word. He just nodded, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Alaric walked into the room. The scent of fresh linen and sweet lavender wiped away the heavy smell of medicine. Empress Selene leaned back against a mountain of pillows. She looked exhausted, her white hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, but she practically glowed. In her arms rested a tiny bundle wrapped in expensive silk.
The baby squirmed, his tiny fingers reaching out to grab the empty air.
Selene gave a weak, tired smile. "He looks just like you," she whispered.
Alaric stepped closer, unable to take his eyes off his son. "No," he said softly. "His eyes... they are yours."
The newborn blinked. His eyes were dark as the night sky—wide, curious, and totally innocent. Alaric felt a massive weight settle on his shoulders. It was a mix of pure awe and a heavy duty that almost made him shake.
"What should we name him?" Selene asked.
Alaric stared at the boy. He thought about their massive empire. He thought about the bloodline of kings, the heavy burden of history, and everything expected of the Voltaire name. He knew this boy was meant for an ascendant path, a destiny much grander than simply ruling.
Finally, he spoke. His voice was deep and steady.
"He is the First Prince of the Grand Empire," Alaric declared. "His name must carry the will to lead. A name that tells the world he will never bow to anyone."
A small, proud smile crossed the Emperor's face as he looked at his wife and child.
"His name is Ace. Ace Voltaire."
Far outside the palace walls, a low rumble of thunder shook the sky, as if the heavens themselves were reacting to the name.
On that restless night in the royal capital of Volaris, under a trembling sky, a prince was born. A prince who would one day change the fate of Elyra—and perhaps the very hierarchy of the cosmos itself.