At the bell of the capital rang,the wind rise with it,suddenly and wild,falling stalls,this was no ordinary storm,it moves with purpose,roaring through the capital like it searching for something.
People woke in fear, hearts racing,though they could not say the reason,but it sounds like a warning to them.
Cloud turned dark like it want to rain,while thunder stoke,in the absence of lightning. Below, the bells rang on, metal grinding against metal, their cries harsh and unbearable.
And all stop immediately.
And in the Hall of record,it was cold despite the braziers burning, mural showing the old ages hung in heavy silence,storms frozen in thread, mountains breaking beneath impossible hands, a shield standing against fire and sky alike. Few who walked beneath them remembered the full truth of what they portrayed.
The priests called it what they always did.
A bad omen.
Prophecy was drawn from dust,heavy tomes and bone fragile scrolls, read by voices that trembled despite years of practice . Lines written in forgotten tongues whispered of disorder,of a power misplaced, not lost. Of a birth that would not announce itself with storm or flame, but with absence.
A child has come,the High Seer declared. One the world bends for.
And so the search began.
No stone or shadow went unturned , as the watchers searched,every corner the capital from roof to top,Midwives were questioned. Birth records were seized. Infants were examined beneath silver instruments,wrapped in talisman.
They found nothing.
No marked child.
No unnatural strength.
No eyes burning with fire or storm.
No sign of the demigods' return.
Relief spread through the council like a fragile lie.
They did not bother to look within the palace walls.
while they kingdom were searched,the Queen of Avalon was in labor,
The storm outside the palace was not violent, but wrong,clouds pressing low against the spires, thunder muttering without lightning. The Queen's chamber smelled of sweat, incense, and fear. Midwives worked with urgency, their faces pale beneath their veils.
And then came a cry of a baby boy,strong lungs,stead heart beats,skin warm and flawless.
An heir.
The Queen wept with relief as the child cried, his voice sharp and human. He was placed in her arms, perfect in every way that was important to the kingdom.
Pain curled through her, She clutched the bedsheets , eyes wide, knowing another life was about to be born,
Silence fell.
The boy did not cry. He breathed softly, steadily but his eyes remained closed, his body unnaturally still. When the midwife turned him to clean his back, her hands froze in shock,at the back of the child,was a mark,not a wound or scar, but a symbol pressed into his flesh.
Dark and smooth, like polished stone, it sat between his shoulder blades,unbroken, unyielding. The air in the chamber thickened. The candles did not flicker. The walls seemed to lean inward, listening.
The Queen saw it, and fear gripped her and she said , Say nothing to no one,not the king,the priest or the council ,she whispered,
The midwife fell to her knees, shaking.
The Queen reached for the second boy, cradling him with love,care and tenderness,He was warm,His heart beat in quiet beneath her palm.
He will be hidden from the world ,she said simply.
She turned her gaze to a slave girl who had served her since childhood,Loyal,obedient and Invisible. Forgotten by those who mattered.
Take him, the Queen commanded. Hide him,Below the palace. Feed him. Guard him with your life, give him love and care.
The girl nodded through tears, wrapping the child in a plane cloth,and walk through the stairs that not many remembered it was there.
By sunrise, the palace bells rang again.
The heir of Avalon was announced to the world.
The priests came at once, robes heavy with relief and ritual. They examined the infant beneath sigils and silver, whispered their prayers, watched for the world to bend.
It did not.
No mark, the High Priest said,
The kingdom rejoiced.
Songs were written. Banners were raised. The lie took root in history.
Beneath the palace, in a basement that had not known light in centuries, a second child slept.
The court chroniclers wrote of a single healthy, prince. Blessed by a kingdom eager for certainty. His name was spoken in sunlight and written into law before he could walk. He was carried through marble halls, lifted by servants, kissed by nobles who saw in him the continuation of Avalon's fragile peace.
He was taught early that the world loved him.
He grew beneath an open skies. Tutors praised his quick mind. Knights laughed at his clumsy attempts to hold wooden swords. Priests laid gentle hands upon his brow and whispered blessings meant to shape him into something safe.
He wa taught justice,and power was a gift meant to be guided.
And when he cried, the palace echoed back with comfort.
Beneath the palace, the other child learned a different truth.
He was given no name at first.
Selda,kept him hidden in a basement , far below the kitchens and storerooms, where the palace forgot its own foundations. She fed him in silence, swayed him through fevers, pressed her forehead to his when the darkness pressed too close.
When he cried, the walls listened.
The mark on his back stated fading ,Selda never spoke of it. She feared that even naming it would awaken something.
Yet the world already knew.
The stone around the him shifted when he slept, settling more firmly, as if bracing itself. Cracks in the basement walls mended slowly over time, When Selda stumbled, the ground steadied beneath her feet.
She told herself it was imagination.
Above them, the prince took his first steps in a sunlit hall.
They named him Alaric.
The court cheered when he walked, when he laughed, when he spoke his first clear word. The king lifted him high, pride written p
on his face. The Queen smiled too,but her eyes always searched, as if counting something missing.
At night, she dreamed of stone and silence.
Below, the second child learned to stand by gripping the wall. The stone felt warm beneath his fingers.It did not move unless he willed it to, and even then, only slightly like a breath held too long and released.
Selda finally named him Cael.
Not a royal name. A quiet one.
Names are anchors, she whispered. They keep us from drifting.
Cael listened more than he spoke. His eyes were too old for his small face, reflective and patient, he never cry.
Years passed by,
Alaric learned the language of people,politics disguised as courtesy, power hidden behind smiles. He learned how to bow, how to command without raising his voice, how to make others feel seen.
Cael learned the language of emptiness, He learned when the palace slept and when it lied awake. He felt the weight of footsteps overhead and understood, without being told, that the world above was not meant for him.
Once, when he was five, the earth shook.
A minor earthquake in the basement , dust fell from the ceiling.Selda cried out , shielding Cael with her body.
The stone did not fall, it held
Cael placed his small hand against the wall, frightened and shaking stopped.
At the same,Alaric stumbled during his lesson and scraped his knee, guards rushed to him. The priest murmured a blessing. The pain faded quickly.
The Queen felt both moment at once,
She pressed her hand to her chest, breath shallow, knowing without proof that her sons had just touched the world in different ways.
On their seventh birthday, the king declared a festival.
Alaric rode through the streets on a white horse, laughing as petals fell like rain. The people cheered his name, believing their future secure.
Below the palace, Cael sat beside selda and listened to people's laughter and cheering . He did not ask why he could feel it. He had learned that some questions are not meant to be asked.
That night, the Queen went to the basement alone.
She knelt before the child she had leave to darkness and pressed her forehead to the cold floor.
I'm sorry,she whispered. I did this so you could live,Cael looked at her calmly as if he is studying her,he lean his head on her arm, where she hugs him tightly and leave for the palace.
And deep inside the wood, stood Edrin, knowing that two different path have been carved.
One shaped by light.
One shaped by shadow.