Chapter 2 — Rebirth II
Epigraph — From The Imperial Chronicle of the Everlasting Empire, Volume CXII
"When the heavens bleed, destiny awakens.
For in every empire built of light, the shadow of its rebirth already waits."
---
Night did not fall over Valenholm. It descended.
At the second hour past midnight, the sky changed not gradually, not with warning, but as though some unseen hand had torn open the firmament. Blue-black darkness drowned beneath a spreading crimson, deep and living, pulsing across the heavens like blood through colossal veins. The air grew heavy, charged, and every instinct born into the people of Enos screamed that something ancient had awakened.
The silver moon still hung in the sky, pale and serene, but beside it now loomed another presence. Larger. Heavier. A darkred celestial body glowing faintly like spilled wine beneath torchlight. Its surface seemed to absorb illumination rather than reflect it, bending color and shadow around itself. Where it gazed upon the world, reality felt thinner.
Across Enos, from the glacial northlands to the steaming southern seas, the world shuddered beneath the twin lights. Rivers reflected the sky in rippling crimson, as though the land itself had been wounded. Forests whispered uneasily, their leaves trembling despite the absence of wind. Even the Aether normally invisible, felt only by cultivators thrummed openly, humming through stone, steel, and flesh alike.
The Crimson Moon had arrrived.
Scholars named it Eclipsera, the Red Moon, a celestial anomaly that was prophesied about 500 years ago by the Conclave of Oracles. Its orbit defied conventional cosmology; its mass bent tides of energy more than gravity. Entire schools of astromancy were built around predicting its rise.
But the people did not care for scholarly names.
To them, it was an omen.
An announcement.
A reminder that destiny, long dormant, had stirred once more and a new age was upon them.
From above, the Everlasting Empire looked alive beneath the bleeding sky. Nine vast provinces stretched across the continent like luminous constellations, linked by glowing Aether Rails that carved arcs of light through the darkness. Skyships drifted along invisible currents, their hulls etched with runes that flared in resonance with the moon's presence.
At the heart of it all stood Valenholm.
The eternal capital rose in layered rings of white marble and gold-veined stone, canals and terraces spiraling upward toward the impossible silhouette of the World Tree. Its trunk alone dwarfed mountains; its roots delved into the planet's core, anchoring the world itself, while its branches pierced the heavens, bearing leaves that shimmered like captured dawn.
Encircling the Tree was the Imperial Palace, the Eyrie of Eternity, a citadel wrought from celestial stone. Tonight, its terraces burned with light as bells woven with Aether tolled in overlapping harmonies. The Festival of Renewal had only just ended; lanterns still floated over the canals, their reflections trembling as the second moon rose. Laughter had faded into silence. Music had died mid-note.
Now the entire city stood beneath the bleeding sky, thousands of voices whispering the same name in awe and fear.
Eclipsera.
Emperor Lucien Valen Aetherion stood upon his balcony, his tall figure framed by crimson radiance. The wind tugged at his silver cloak, embroidered with sigils of sovereignty that glimmered faintly as the Aether surged. His expression was calm, carved from discipline and centuries of imperial tradition, but his eyes betrayed unease as they searched the heavens.
Behind him stood three women, each a queen in her own right, each representing a different pillar of the Empire.
Lady Mirelle Ardentis stood nearest the balustrade, her crimson hair bound in precise braids, her posture flawless. Her lineage traced back to one of the Empire's founding ducal families.
Lady Calistra Vane leaned against a column, arms crossed. Sparks of lightning flickered faintly around her aura, responding instinctively to the disturbance in the sky. She smiled faintly, as though welcoming the chaos rather than fearing it.
And slightly apart from them stood Lady Selene.
She wore no jewels, no sigils of rank beyond the simple circlet that marked her as imperial consort. She watched the heavens with quiet intensity. Where the others analyzed and anticipated, Selene simply felt.
Mirelle broke the silence. "Is it truly Eclipsera, Majesty?"
Lucien did not look away from the horizon. "Yes it is" he replied evenly.
Calistra's lips curved into a sharp grin. "The omens are unmistakable. The sky bleeds and the Abyss stirs."
Selene folded her hands together. "Prophecies are made to help us better prepare for the future" she said softly. "But… this one is different, for it tells of his return."
Lucien glanced at her, and for a moment the mask of the Emperor slipped. "You always see too clearly."
Before any of them could respond, the palace trembled.
Aether surged through the walls like a colossal heartbeat. The lights flickered, runes blazing brighter as they struggled to stabilize the flow. Lucien straightened sharply, his instincts honed by decades of rule snapping into focus.
"She's in labor," he said. "Now."
Mirelle inhaled sharply. Calistra's grin vanished. Selene's hand flew to her chest.
"Stay here," Lucien commanded, already turning. "Whatever happens tonight, the Empire must not see fear reflected in its queens."
He vanished into the inner halls, boots striking marble that now hummed with power.
---
In the Imperial palace, within a chamber carved directly into the living roots of Aetherion Prime, Empress Seraphine Drakar Aetherion labored.
The sanctum was ancient, as old as Valenholm itself, its walls etched with sigils laid down when the Imperial palace was first built. Gold light formed a lattice around the chamber, runes igniting and dimming in response to the surging energies within.
Seraphine lay upon a dais of living crystal, her breath coming in sharp, controlled exhales. Each time she inhaled, silver fire flickered at the corners of her lips. Each time she screamed, the air trembled as though struck by thunder.
Her bloodline carried Draconic Resonance, a legacy forged when her ancestors mated with the descendants of the Dragon soveriegn. Power flowed through her veins like molten gold, potent even by imperial standards. Tonight, beneath Eclipsera's gaze, that power was awakening far beyond expectation.
"The Aether levels are rising too quickly!" one midwife cried, her voice shaking as instruments screamed warnings.
"The child carries both Aetherion and Drakar blood," another replied desperately. "The formations can barely contain it!"
Seraphine's vision blurred. Pain gave way to something else, expansion and awareness. Lightning burst through the chamber, shattering crystals and sending shockwaves through the palace above. Crimson light from Eclipsera poured through the sanctum, bathing Seraphine in blood-red radiance.
She gritted her teeth, clutching the sheets as her aura flared fire and starlight twisting together. "My baby is coming," she whispered.
And the world seemed to hold its breath.
---
Far beneath that sanctum, deeper than roots and stone, in a hidden chamber very few members of the Imperial family know of. The room was circular, its walls carved from obsidian that drank in light. At its center stood a round table of black aetherstone, etched with sigils so old few in the Empire would recognize it. One seat was occupied by a figure of undeniable presence, solid and real, his form wreathed in restrained radiance.
He was the eldest amongst his siblings.
Around the table, six other figures appeared as projections. Their forms flickered between flesh and light, each bearing the unmistakable weight of transcendence.
The Seven Ancestors of the Imperial family had convened.
"The prophecy is finally upon us." one of the projected figures said, her voice layered with harmonics that bent the air.
"The bindings tremble across multiple strata," another replied. "The Abyss stirs in response."
The Eldest rested his hands upon the table, golden eyes reflecting the sigils beneath the surface. "Has there been any deviation in the current timeline?"
A pause followed. Then one of the projections inclined his head. Then said "Yes. Subtle, but undeniable."
The Eldest exhaled slowly. "Then the first phase has concluded. We will have to go with second phase of the plan now. "
One of the others frowned. "Should we not wait until the other piece is located before proceeding?"
"No," the Eldest said without hesitation. "There is no need. The second phase must begin regardless. Preparations cannot be delayed further."
A low murmur rippled through the projections.
"Begin your preparations," the Eldest continued. "On your own ends. The Empire needs to be prepared for what's to come."
The sigils flared once, and the projections vanished, leaving the Eldest alone in the dark.
---
Above, the Hall of Concord erupted into chaos.
By the third hour, some of the nobles and government officials filled the vast chamber, their voices overlapping as celestial charts hovered in the air, glowing crimson beneath the moonlight.
"The Crimson Moon aligns with the Emperor Star!" an astrologer shouted. "The last time the world saw such a similar heavenly phenomena was during the Mythic Era. "
"When the sky bleeds and the Abyss stirs," another whispered, pale and shaking, "the First Flame breathes anew…"
Silence fell as the bells rang again deep, solemn, resonating through marble and bone alike.
---
In the sanctum below, the formations shattered one by one.
The midwives fled as silence fell, heavy and absolute. A blinding flash filled the chamber, white and gold and crimson all at once. When it faded, Seraphine lay still, her breath shallow but steady.
In her arms, a child cried.
The sound rippled through the Aether, racing across the palace, across Valenholm, across Enos itself. The World Tree's leaves blazed gold, shedding motes of light that drifted like petals through the dawn air. Instruments cracked as readings spiked beyond known limits.
"His affinity for Aether will likely be very high…" a midwife commented.
---
Far beyond stars, the Watcher observed in silence.
"So the ember endures," it murmured. "A soul from another world, reborn among the children of Aether."
The child's pulse echoed through creation, singing in two frequencies machine and mind, Qi and spirit.
"Let them call it destiny," the Watcher said softly. "When his memory awakens, they will learn what defiance truly means."
---
Dawn came at last.
The crimson light faded. Eclipsera vanished beyond the horizon. Bells rang across Valenholm as banners unfurled beneath the World Tree's radiant leaves.
Inside the palace, Lucien stood beside Seraphine as she slept, the child cradled against her chest, violet light pulsing with every tiny breath.
"Welcome, my son," the Emperor whispered. "May the world never break you."
And somewhere far away, unseen, a second light flickered blue, distant, and watching.