A beautiful morning in the Silverwood on Vyxen Arclands settlement began in quiet silver hues, as if the sky itself wished not to disturb the newborn child resting in the Arctis household. Soft light filtered through crystal-woven curtains, scattering tiny motes of mana across the room like drifting stars.
In the center, wrapped in threads of pale blue cloth, lay Caelum Arctis small, fragile, and newly arrived into the world.
He did not cry often.
Instead, he watched.
Even as a newborn, his eyes seemed strangely alert, following the movement of floating light, the shimmering glow of Vyxen lanterns, even the soft breathing of the trees outside. It was as though every sensation tugged at a part of him that did not yet have a name.
His mother, Lira Arctis, leaned over the cradle, brushing a fingertip along his tiny cheek. "He's awake again," she whispered, voice filled with awe. "He always wakes before dawn."
Her husband, Kael Arctis, approached with slow, steady steps. His presence was calm like a mountain that learned patience from the wind. "He has a quiet spirit," Kael said softly. "But it feels… old."
Lira smiled, though sadness flickered in her eyes. "Old, or simply aware? I can't tell."
Caelum's small hand reached upward, gripping the air. A faint glow pulsed beneath his skin thin, delicate lines of light flickering just under the surface. Mana veins. Unusual for a newborn. Even among the Arcanum, such markings usually appeared later after years of training and growth.
But Caelum had them now, like a silent declaration.
Kael frowned slightly. "His mana stirs too early."
Lira held her breath. "Is it dangerous?"
"No," Kael assured her, brushing his thumb across the baby's tiny fingers. "But it is… different."
Caelum blinked slowly, his gaze drifting toward them as though recognizing their voices before learning their names. He cooed a small, soft sound that made Lira's eyes water.
"He feels so delicate," she whispered. "Yet when I hold him, it's like… he carries something heavier than his tiny body."
Kael placed a gentle hand on Lira's shoulder. "Then we will be strong for him until he learns to be strong for himself."
Baby Caelum's gaze drifted again, drawn to the beams of mana-light swirling above his crib. The markings on his arm flickered faintly in response like a heartbeat syncing to something unseen.
Lira lifted him into her arms, cradling him against her chest. "My little Caelum…" Her voice shook with warmth. "Whatever the world expects from you… whatever these strange lights mean… you are ours first."
The infant stirred, his small hand curling into the fabric of her robe.
Outside, wind rustled the Aetherpine branches. A low hum carried through the air the unique resonance of Silverwood where mana breathed along with nature.
Kael glanced toward the window. "The world is shifting," he murmured. "I can feel it."
Lira held Caelum a little tighter.
The baby did not cry.
He simply stared at the shimmering air with silent wonder, as if listening to something no one else could hear.
Something waiting.
Something distant.
Something only he would someday understand.
But for now…
He was simply Caelum Arctis
a newborn child,
wrapped in warmth,
not yet aware of the path the world had already begun shaping for him.
And as the breeze passed through the trees, the faint pulse beneath his skin glowed once more quiet, mysterious, patient.
Lira eventually sat near the hearth, gently rocking Caelum in her arms. The fire crackled softly, casting warm gold across his small face. Caelum blinked, fascinated by the movement of the flames. Every shift of light seemed to hold his full attention.
"He's always watching," Lira whispered.
Kael nodded as he prepared morning tea. "Most newborns only look when something is loud. But him…" He glanced at Caelum, noticing how the baby's eyes reflected the firelight like tiny mirrors. "He sees even the quiet things."
A soft clicking sound echoed outside the Silverwood boundary wards adjusting as morning mana rose. Normally, infants ignored such shifts. But Caelum's eyes widened. His tiny fingers twitched.
Kael paused.
"…He reacted to the wards."
Lira looked down in surprise. "Caelum… did you hear it?"
The baby cooed lightly, lifting his hand as if reaching toward the unseen sound. And for a moment only a flicker the mana veins beneath his skin responded with a soft glow.
Kael exhaled slowly, unsure whether to be amazed or worried.
Before he could speak, a soft knock tapped at the door.
Lira tensed slightly. Visitors this early were rare in Silverwood.
Kael opened the door to reveal Sera Vaelis, the settlement's healer and a friend. Her pale robes were marked with runic threads, and her expression softened when she saw the child.
"I felt a surge of newborn mana from afar," she said simply. "I came to check on him."
Caelum looked at her, and Sera froze not in fear, but in mesmerized awe.
"…His eyes," she whispered. "They reflect light like condensed aether."
Lira's arms tightened protectively. "Is that… dangerous?"
Sera smiled gently. "No. Just unusual. He is sensitive to mana fields. Perhaps… gifted." Her voice lowered with caution. "But gifts often attract attention, good and bad."
Kael's jaw clenched.
Lira held Caelum closer.
The healer stepped back. "For now, let him grow. Let him be a child." She bowed lightly. "I will check again if anything changes."
When the door closed, silence returned.
Lira kissed Caelum's forehead, whispering, "We'll protect you. Whatever you are meant to become… it can wait."
Outside, the wind shifted again soft, subtle, almost like a sigh.
Caelum slowly closed his eyes. The faint glow beneath his skin dimmed once more.
A day passed quietly.
Lira rested by the window, humming softly while Caelum slept nestled against her chest. The lullaby was older than Vyxen, older than settlement roads and rune stone paths. She didn't know where she learned it. Perhaps from her mother… or perhaps it simply stayed in her heart, waiting for a child like him.
Outside, Silverwood stirred with life.
Aetherpines shimmered with morning dew. Mana-lanterns gently floated along the curved walkways, illuminating messages left by passing Arcanists. Traders moved slowly, unhurried, as if the morning itself requested silence.
But deeper in the Silverwood…
Something shifted.
Not violently.
Not alarmingly.
Just attentively.
As though the forest, too, had begun watching Caelum Arctis.
Later that day, while Kael worked by the boundary marker adjusting the ward stones he noticed something strange.
The runes carved into the stone pulsed.
Not with normal mana flow.
But with… rhythm.
Almost like heartbeat.
His gaze moved to the cottage window, where Lira sat with their sleeping son.
The ward pulses followed.
Soft. Subtle.
As if syncing with the breath of a newborn child inside.
Kael's hand stilled.
This is too early, he thought. But he said nothing.
Inside, Caelum stirred.
Not fully awake.
Not truly asleep.
Somewhere in between. His fingers curled slowly, and for the first time… he dreamed.
Not in words.
Not in memory.
But in impressions.
Warm light.
Distant hums.
Shapes like floating runes, shimmering softly never fully forming, always just beyond recognition. And a distant sound, like wind speaking through trees.
Not calling him.
Not warning.
Simply knowing him.
For a moment, his mana veins flickered again.
Lira felt it against her arm.
She didn't move.
She only whispered
"I felt that."
Caelum's breathing calmed.
The glow faded.
That evening, Sera Vaelis returned not to examine the child, but to speak with Kael. They stood outside, beside the marking stones as lanterns floated silently above.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" she asked.
Kael didn't deny it.
"Not normal mana fluctuation. The wards were listening."
Sera's expression grew unreadable. "Settlements don't listen. People do. Forests do. But stones only hold power. They do not respond."
Kael looked back at the window.
Caelum slept there, Lira beside him.
"I don't think they were responding to the wardstones," he said quietly.
Sera followed his gaze.
Understanding flickered in her eyes.
"…I see."
A quiet moment passed all Silverwood hushed in that stillness.
Finally, Sera spoke softly,
"Then we must never let them know. Not yet. Not until he understands it himself."
Kael nodded.
Not in fear.
But in agreement.
That night, Caelum slept peacefully.
No glow. No dream. No wind-song.
Just soft warmth.
Just quiet.
Just a child wrapped in blankets, unaware of how gently the world was already bending around him.
Waiting.
Patient.
Listening.