Darkness swallowed me whole as sleep finally pulled me under.
Warmth wrapped around my mind. Voices blurred into echoes.
And then—light.
When I opened my eyes again, I was not in my own body.
I floated above a grand chamber, watching a scene unfold like a memory carved into the air.
A woman with long golden hair lay on a wide bed, sweat shining on her forehead, her breaths sharp and unsteady. Servants surrounded her, whispering frantic prayers as the midwife guided her through the final moments of labor.
"Just a little more, Lady Mara… he's almost here…"
Her fingers dug into the sheets. Her voice trembled with pain and hope.
"Kaelith… my little Kaelith… come to me…"
A final cry escaped her lips—
And then the newborn was placed into her trembling arms.
But the baby did not move.
Did not scream.
Did not cry.
Mara's smile froze. Her eyes widened with terror.
"Wh–what… what's wrong with my child…?" she whispered, voice cracking.
Before anyone could answer, the doors of the chamber slammed open.
A wave of pressure swept through the room.
Everyone stiffened.
The man who entered carried an aura that made even the candles flicker—white hair like winter frost, eyes of molten gold with slitted dragon pupils, and a tall, athletic figure draped in royal attire.
He was power.
He was authority.
And he was utterly indifferent.
The servants dropped to their knees.
"We–we greet His Highness, the Third Prince!"
He didn't look at them.
Not even once.
His gaze drifted lazily across the room until it stopped on Mara and the silent newborn in her arms.
"Sarius…" Mara breathed his name with a mixture of fear and anger. "Sarius Aquode… what are you doing here?"
The prince didn't answer.
He walked forward, unhurried, uncaring, until he stood beside her bed.
His golden eyes lowered to the baby.
The room felt colder.
Even in this dream-memory, I felt the chill.
For a long moment, Sarius simply stared.
Then he clicked his tongue.
"Tsk. Just as I expected. Another failure."
His voice was sharp with contempt, as if he was talking about a broken object, not a newborn child.
"It would be better if he didn't live long," he added with a smirk. "One less problem."
Mara shook, clutching the unmoving infant tighter.
"Sarius—our deal—"
"Our deal is finished," he cut in, cold and casual. "I've fulfilled my promise to your family. That is all."
He turned to leave.
Mara's voice cracked. "You—!"
But before she could finish, a small sound broke the air.
A soft grunt.
Then… a tiny cough.
Everyone froze.
Mara's head snapped down—
And her eyes widened in absolute shock.
The baby—Kaelith—was staring up at her.
But those eyes…
Those were not a newborn's eyes.
Not innocent.
Not empty.
They were filled with something dark.
Something too old.
Something no infant should ever know.
Hate.
Pure, burning hate.
And beneath that hate, a deep well of despair.
Even Sarius stopped.
His smirk twitched, surprise flickering briefly before he laughed under his breath.
"Heh. Even this thing hates you. How fitting."
He laughed softly, contempt leaking from every syllable, and then turned away, walking out as if none of this mattered.
The dream trembled.
The scene began to distort.
Voices warped.
Light cracked like shattered glass.
Suddenly—
A voice called from very far away:
"Kaelith! Young master Kaelith, wake up! Please—wake up!"
Everything collapsed into darkness.
My eyes snapped open.
A maid leaned over me, worry etched across her face.
Her silver hair framed frightened blue eyes.
"Young master Kaelith," she whispered in relief, "it's me… Lalia. Thank goodness—you were trembling in your sleep."
My heart pounded.
The dream-memory burned behind my eyes.
That woman…
That man…
That newborn who looked at the world with hatred—
Was that truly… me?
....