In a land where the sky shimmered with constellations unknown to ordinary worlds, where ancient winds whispered through silver forests and rivers carried faint traces of forgotten magic, a child was born.
He was born in a humble household nestled at the edge of the Emberwood Vale, surrounded not by kings or warriors, but by a quiet family who knew nothing of fate's design. To them, he was only their son — small, fragile, and breathing his first cry beneath a sky unusually bright that night.
Yet the stars did not shine by coincidence.
High above, unseen threads of light aligned in silent recognition. The moment the child opened his eyes, something ancient stirred. Deep within his chest, hidden beneath soft skin and steady breath, rested a faint spark — the Heart of Worlds — dormant, but alive.
The family celebrated as any family would. Neighbors offered blessings. Warm lanterns glowed through the night. No one sensed the subtle tremor that passed through the air, nor the way the forest at the valley's border seemed to lean closer, listening.
As the child grew, so did the quiet strangeness around him.
He did not cry without reason. He did not laugh without watching the sky first. While other children chased sunlight across open fields, he wandered toward the silverwood trees, pausing as if hearing distant murmurs carried by the wind.
The forest responded.
Leaves trembled when he stepped near. Streams stilled when he touched their surface. And at night, when the world slept, the spark within his chest pulsed softly — not with pain, but with memory.
Dreams came often.
Visions of floating lands suspended above endless clouds. Gates carved from light. Shadows moving between realms unseen by mortal eyes.
The family believed he possessed an imaginative spirit. The elders called it curiosity. None understood that the boy was not imagining distant worlds.
He remembered them.
One evening, beneath a sky brushed with violet twilight, the spark flared brighter than ever before. The boy awoke suddenly, his small hand pressed against his chest as warmth spread through him like a second heartbeat.
And in the quiet between breaths, a whisper brushed against his thoughts:
"You are chosen… and the worlds will call your name."
He did not yet understand the meaning.
He did not yet know of fractured skies, hidden gates, or winged shadows waiting beyond the forest's edge.
But somewhere beyond the visible stars, something had begun to watch.
And from that night forward, though he still lived as a child within his family's home, the ordinary world no longer held him completely.
For destiny had already taken notice.
And it would not remain silent forever.