By the next morning, the empire knew.
The announcement did not spread through idle gossip or careless whispers. It came with authority.
At dawn, bells rang across the capital deep, resonant chimes that rolled through marble streets and over tiled rooftops. Crimson banners bearing the sigil of Morvaelis were unfurled from towers and gates, catching the early light like spilled fire.
A royal birth had been confirmed.
A princess had been named.
Couriers rode out from the capital in every direction, carrying sealed decrees marked with the imperial crest. From border forts to merchant cities, from noble estates to distant academies, the news traveled with relentless speed.
The empire had a new princess.
Morana Eclipsa Morvaelis.
I did not hear the bells.
Still, I sensed the change.
The palace felt different when I woke. Movement carried purpose. Voices were quieter, footsteps quicker. Guards stood sharper at their posts, and servants handled even the smallest tasks with care, as though the walls themselves were listening.
I was no longer just a child hidden behind palace doors.
I had been acknowledged.
---------------
Time passed more quickly than I expected.
Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months. My body grew stronger. My limbs responded faster. Control came in frustrating increments.
I worked hard to grow up quickly.
Having the mind of an adult trapped in an infant's body was humiliating in ways I hadn't anticipated. I hated the helplessness most of all. Being unable to clean myself, unable to feed myself, unable to move where I wished. It grated against every instinct I had carried over from my previous life.
Worst of all was the hunger.
Every time I needed food, I had to cry. To reach for my mother. To be held and fed like I didn't understand what was happening.
It was deeply embarrassing.
My mother never once made me feel like a burden. She came every time, calm and patient, holding me close as if there were nowhere else she needed to be.
Her pale blue eyes would soften the moment they met mine, affection unmistakable in their depth, as though I were not an obligation, but a choice she would make again and again. That only made the frustration sharper. I hated that I needed her so completely.
But I was happy. I have a family now, who loves me.
By the time I could sit on my own, the world felt less suffocating. By the time I could grasp objects with intention, I felt almost human again. Each small victory mattered.
Now, I was nearing my first birthday.
In a week, the palace would hold a celebration.
It would be my first official appearance before the nobility, my first time being seen not as an unnamed infant, but as a princess of the empire.
Morana Eclipsa Morvaelis.
The thought made my chest tighten.
I would also appear alongside my father.
He would take me with him to greet representatives from across the empire, nobles, governors, officials. Faces that mattered. Eyes that would weigh and measure even a child.
It was tradition, I'd learned.
There was something else I had accomplished.
Something small, yet monumental to me.
I could speak now.
Not fluently. Not properly. Just a few words broken, soft, and clumsy around the edges. Sounds that took effort to shape, syllables my tongue still struggled to obey.
The first time it happened, it startled even me.
My mother had been sitting beside me, reading softly while I played with the edge of her sleeve. Hunger gnawed at me, familiar and irritating. Before I could stop myself, the sound slipped out.
"Ma…ma."
The room froze.
Her voice cut off mid-sentence. Slowly, almost fearfully, she looked down at me.
"Did you—?" she whispered.
I tried again, concentrating with everything I had.
"Ma…ma."
Her breath hitched.
Then she laughed soft, breathless, disbelieving and gathered me into her arms like I might vanish if she didn't hold on tight enough.
"My little miracle," she murmured against my hair.
I didn't correct her.
After that, more words followed. Slowly. Carefully.
"Papa.""Kael.""Milk.""Up."
That one earned me an exaggerated gasp from my brother and a vow that he'd teach me far better words soon.
Each syllable felt like reclaiming a piece of myself.
I was no longer trapped behind cries and gestures alone. I could express want. Preference. Recognition.
It wasn't much. But it was progress.
Just then, the doors flew open.
"Ana!"
Kael burst into the room like a small hurricane, nearly tripping over his own feet as he skidded to a stop beside my bed. His face was lit up with uncontained excitement, eyes practically sparkling.
"My friend's coming!" he announced. "He's finally allowed to visit the palace!"
Friend?
Before I could process that, he leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing the most important secret in the world.
"Razel's coming."
My brain slammed into overdrive.
Razel.
No.
No, no, no.
Razel… Valdyr?
My thoughts scrambled, racing through half-remembered chapters, late-night scrolling, spoiler threads I'd sworn I wouldn't open and then absolutely did.
Razel Valdyr.
A name that did not belong anywhere near the word friend.
In the novel, he wasn't introduced as a villain. Not at first. He appeared quietly, almost harmlessly. A noble heir with sharp eyes and a smile that never quite reached them.
Later, it was revealed what he truly was.
A calculating psychopath.
Someone who burned cities out of sheer curiosity, indifferent to ideology or revenge. Someone who cared for nothing and no one.
And I knew this not because I'd finished the novel.
I hadn't.
It was ongoing. Three hundred chapters and counting.
I'd only made it to chapter one hundred.
But spoilers?
Oh, I'd read those.
Carefully.
Morbidly.
Regretfully.
My chest tightened.
That Razel was my brother's friend?
This cheerful, loud, golden-haired boy who still made faces at me and promised to teach me bad words, this Kael was friends with him?
I stared at my brother, my expression no doubt blank and baby-soft, while my mind spiraled.
This was bad.
Very bad.
"Razel's really cool," Kael continued, utterly oblivious to the internal disaster unfolding in front of him. "He is already practicing swordsmanship. He's smart. Like, scary smart. Father says he'll be important someday."
Of course he will, I thought faintly.
That was exactly the problem.
I couldn't speak enough to warn anyone.
I couldn't move enough to get away.
And I couldn't even be sure the spoilers were the absolute truth.
I was standing far too close to a future villain.
My tiny fingers curled into the sheets.
So tell me—
Why was the universe already throwing a psychopath at me before my first birthday!
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