The Imperial Capital of Aurelion had not slept for three days.
Banners of gold and white draped every tower and bridge, fluttering beneath mana-lanterns that painted the sky in warm hues. Streets once reserved for military parades overflowed with music, laughter, and the scent of spiced wine. Illusionary fireworks bloomed endlessly above the central spire of dragons, lions, phoenixes, and heroes, each one brighter than the last.
All of it for a child.
"By decree of His Imperial Majesty," a herald's voice boomed across the Grand Plaza, amplified by Mage Tower enchantments, "today marks the second birthday of His Highness Leonardo Aurelion Valerius, Crown Prince of the Aurelian Empire!"
At the heart of the capital stood the Solar Palace, a structure so vast and ancient that even history bowed to it. Its walls were carved from sunstone, glowing faintly under layered enchantments. From its highest balcony, the Emperor himself watched the celebration below.
Emperor Cassain Aurelion Valerius stood unmoving.
A Sovereign I ranked, Sword Saint. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, his presence alone enough to still conversations. Golden hair streaked with silver framed a face carved by war and rule alike. His eyes, deep and looking like molten gold, carried the weight of an empire spanning continents.
One of fewer than ten beings on the continent capable of rewriting battlefields by will alone.
Behind him, the air subtly distorted his aura, restrained, yet ever-present, like the sun behind clouds.
"He smiles today," murmured Empress Selene, standing beside him, her voice gentle.
In his arms was a child with soft golden hair and eyes far too sharp for his age.
Leonardo did not wave.
He observed.
The crowds.
The nobles.
The banners.
As if committing the world to memory.
"He watches as you do," Selene said softly.
Valerius's lips twitched.
At the heart of the Imperial Palace stood Grand Plaza, a vast circular hall capable of hosting banquets and balls. Today, it hosts the powers of the empire.
Counts, Marquises, Dukes, each seated according to rank, bloodline, and contribution to the Empire. Their attire ranged from traditional imperial robes to sharply tailored modern uniforms reinforced with spell-plates and discreet weaponry. Around them stood representatives of every major power:
The Mage Tower, robed in layered sigils, eyes glowing faintly with constant spellwork
The Mercenary Alliance, scarred veterans wearing medals instead of jewels
The Commerce Guild, smiling too easily, rings heavy with authority
Emperor Cassian Aurelion Valerius stood at the centre,
When he raised his hand, the plaza fell silent instantly.
"Citizens of the Empire," Cassian said, his voice carrying effortlessly without amplification. "Today, we celebrate not merely the birth of my son-"
A pause.
"But the promise of our future."
The crowd erupted.
Cheers rolled like thunder.
Leonardo Aurelion Valerius was now standing beside his father,
Two years old.
And already… wrong.
He stood calmly in ceremonial gold and red attire, small hands resting at his sides, golden hair catching the light as though it had been designed for it. His eyes pure, radiant gold, scanned the vast plaza without fear, curiosity, or uncertainty.
Mana clung to him naturally.
Not explosively.
Not wildly.
But perfectly aligned.
High-ranking mages swallowed unconsciously.
"Mana circulation efficiency at that age…" one whispered.
"Impossible," another replied.
"Or divine," murmured a third.
Far from the dais, at the edge of the noble seating—
Caelan Ravens was suffering.
"This is torture," he muttered, tugging at the stiff collar of his formal coat. "Actual, documented torture, I swear to God this is an assassination attempt on me"
The Raven representative looked painfully out of place.
Black formal wear was tailored perfectly and hated thoroughly. His silver-grey eyes flicked from banner to banner, expression hovering somewhere between boredom and open disdain. A ceremonial Raven insignia rested on his chest, polished to imperial standards.
He had tried to leave it crooked.
They had fixed it.
Three times.
A Count seated nearby leaned toward his companion and whispered, not quietly enough,
"That's the Raven envoy?"
Caelan heard him.
Of course he did.
He smiled lazily without turning. "If you're about to ask whether I bite, yes. But only important people."
The Count paled.
Whispers followed Caelan everywhere.
"The Ravens sent him?"
"Isn't he the… joking one?"
"I heard he once laughed during an execution."
The Mad Raven that was he was called throughout the empire because of his antics.
A veteran Marquis glanced at Caelan once then stiffened, spine straightening instinctively.
"…King rank," he murmured under his breath. "And not the lower end."
Caelan caught that too.
"Good job for guessing but unfortunately you don't get any prize," he said pleasantly.
The Marquis did not reply.
Trumpets sounded.
The celebration reached its peak.
Leonardo lifted a small hand.
Golden mana rippled outward,gentle, controlled, beautiful.
The sky responded.
Light bloomed overhead in the shape of a vast imperial crest, reflected in thousands of eyes filled with awe.
"This child…" the Mercenary Guildmaster muttered. "He's not just powerful."
He swallowed.
"He's favoured."
Caelan watched silently.
For a brief moment, his grin faded.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "You've got the spotlight, kid."
He adjusted his sleeve.
"Hope you survive it."
Far from the capital.
Far from banners and sunlight.
A hidden fortress of black stone lay wrapped in wards so old they had forgotten their creators.
Within it, a man opened his eyes.
Crimson irises glowed faintly in the dark.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
He did not know Kael Ravens.
Did not know his name, his blood, or his dragon.
But somewhere in the future—fragmented, distorted-
He felt another threat.
Not the child beneath the sun.
Something else.
Something quiet.
He smiled, fangs glinting.
"So," he whispered, "the world plans to entertain me by changing the future, intresting".