"Some souls are too bright to fade.
Even death can't hold them—only reshape them."
The Edge of the Asterwilde Forest
Barony of Lythmoor — a quiet, almost-forgotten corner of the kingdom.
Mist drifted across the rolling meadows, soft and pale as morning milk. A lone cottage sat nestled between towering ancientwoods, lanterns glowing desperately through the night as cries echoed from within.
Not war cries.
Not battle.
Not the roar of mana cannons.
The cries of childbirth.
Inside the chamber, Baron Lythmoor paced like a terrified bear, sweat pouring down his face. Every few seconds he jolted at the sound of his wife screaming.
"Is— Is she alright? Is the child—?"
The midwife silenced him with a glare sharp enough to skin a beast.
"Ask one more time, m'lord, and I'll sew yer lips shut myself."
He shut up instantly.
The room pulsed with tension. Wood creaked. Candlelight flickered violently. Something heavy hung in the air—something no one could describe.
The midwife leaned in, brow tightening.
Then—
A cry.
Soft. Weak. So tiny it almost wasn't there.
The midwife froze.
The mother exhaled shakily. "Is he… alive?"
The midwife lifted the newborn carefully… then stared.
A pale silver mist wrapped around his body—thin, barely visible, like moonlight condensed into breath.
His eyes blinked open.
Silver.
Not gray.
Not blue.
Silver—like starlight trapped behind glass.
The midwife whispered:
"By the gods… this child… he feels like a storm trying to fit inside a candle."
The baron stepped closer, voice trembling.
"Our son…"
Kayden Fross Lythmoor was born.
Tiny. Fragile.
Barely clinging to life.
But something ancient pulsed beneath his heartbeat.
A rhythm from a world long lost.
⸻
Inside Kayden's Mind
Of course, he remembered nothing.
Not the Architect.
Not the war.
Not Kirti.
Not the moment he died holding the one he loved as the universe collapsed around them.
But his soul…
His soul remembered everything.
For a single instant, during his first breath, he saw—
A girl with golden hair.
Her hand reaching toward his.
Fingertips touching in a world on fire.
Then the memory shattered.
Only warmth remained.
Only ache.
⸻
Far Across the Kingdom — The Birth of a Starborn
While storms quieted over Lythmoor, thunder shook the skies above House Elyndra, the most powerful noble family in the kingdom. Their manor glowed with light—literal light—as mages shielded the birthing chambers.
Flashes of gold burst from the windows.
The physician stumbled out, hair standing on end from magical discharge.
"W-What just happened? Is the mother—?"
Before he could finish, the chamber doors burst open and a wave of pure golden mana swept through the hall, knocking armored knights off their feet.
A cry followed.
Loud. Powerful.
Echoing with authority.
The head of House Elyndra barged inside—and froze.
The baby girl in his wife's arms glowed softly, gold shimmering around her like the halo of a newborn goddess. Symbols—ancient, divine-looking—etched themselves faintly across her skin, then faded.
Her eyes opened.
Radiant gold.
The physician fell to his knees.
"Highlord… your daughter… she carries the presence of a goddess."
The highlord barely breathed. "She will be the pride of the Elyndra name."
Thus—
Kirti Elyndra was born.
A prodigy.
A miracle child.
A future empress in the making.
But even wrapped in silk and power—her tiny fingers curled emptily, as if searching for someone.
Sometimes she cried without reason.
Sometimes she stared at the moon until her parents grew worried.
Sometimes she whispered—
"…Why does my heart hurt?"
None could answer.
⸻
Years Passed — But Souls Don't Forget
Kayden grew in quiet countryside fields, chasing fireflies and watching the stars with a strange sense of déjà vu.
He couldn't wield magic.
He couldn't fight.
He was ordinary.
Yet when storms came, he felt calm.
When mana beasts attacked travelers, he trembled—
not with fear,
but with a warrior's instinct he himself didn't understand.
Sometimes at night, he dreamt:
A battlefield.
A girl of light.
Blood.
Fire.
And two hands reaching across death itself.
He woke with tears he didn't understand.
⸻
Kirti, meanwhile, mastered magic at an impossible pace.
By age 3—she conjured sparks of pure light.
By age 4—she outclassed her tutors.
By age 5—she sensed mana fluctuations nobles twice her age couldn't detect.
Her family adored her.
The kingdom whispered her name like prophecy.
But she felt incomplete.
A voice at the edge of her dreams called to her.
A silhouette she could not identify.
A silver glow that warmed her chest.
She often muttered:
"Who are you?
Why do I feel like I'm waiting for someone?"
No answer.
Only moonlight.
⸻
And across the world…
Two children lived separate lives.
One in power.
One in quiet.
One destined for greatness.
One destined to rise from nothing.
Both reborn.
Both lost.
Both aching without knowing why.
Their memories were gone.
But their fate was not.
Because destiny remembers what souls forget.
⸻
To be continued in Chapter 2 — "When the Moon Calls the Sun"
Kayden is 8.
Kirti is 7.
The Kingdom's annual Selection Trials begin.
And fate will bring them closer for the first time.