A full year had passed since that quiet night in the cradle. Vaelen was no longer a stationary observer. He could crawl with surprising speed and stand for short bursts, though his balance was still a work in progress. His world had been limited to the four walls of their cozy timber home. That changed on the morning of his first birthday.
The sun had barely begun to peak over the horizon when Elara scooped him up. She didn't have her usual morning smile. Her movements were brisk and her eyes seemed to flit toward the window every few seconds. She dressed him in layers of fine, soft wool and a small cloak that felt far too formal for a day at home.
"Today is the day," she whispered. Her voice carried a tremor he hadn't heard before.
Vaelen watched her closely. He could understand about thirty percent of what she said now. He knew "day," "go," and "father," but the connective tissue of the language remained a puzzle. The alphabet was even worse. He had seen some of his mother's scrolls, but the characters looked like a mess of geometric scratches. He wasn't worried, though. He had time.
They stepped outside, and Vaelen took his first real breath of the world. The air was crisp and smelled of pine and damp earth. A carriage waited at the edge of their garden. It wasn't a simple wagon. It was made of dark, polished wood with silver filigree tracing the wheels. Two massive horses with coats like midnight huffed steam into the cold air.
Lyra was already inside, bouncing on the leather seats. She was dressed in a blue gown that made her look like a tiny porcelain doll. Elara climbed in after her, holding Vaelen tightly to her chest. As the carriage lurched forward, Vaelen peered out the small window.
The journey was a blur of scenery. They left the quiet village of Oakhaven behind, traveling through dense forests where the trees seemed to grow taller than any he had seen in his previous life. Occasionally, he saw travelers on the road. Some carried glowing staves, and others had strange, floating orbs of light following them.
'The magic here isn't rare,' he noted. 'It's everywhere!'
Eventually, the swaying of the carriage and the rhythmic thumping of hooves did what they always did to his infant brain. He fought it for a while, but his head soon slumped against his mother's shoulder. He drifted into a shallow sleep.
He was woken by a sudden halt. The carriage had stopped moving. The air felt different here. It was heavier, humming with a low-frequency vibration that made the hair on his arms stand up.
Elara stepped out of the carriage, and Vaelen's jaw nearly dropped.
They were standing before an estate that defied logic. It was a massive fortress of white stone and blue marble, sprawling across the side of a mountain. High spires reached toward the clouds, tipped with crystals that caught the sunlight and refracted it into rainbows. A waterfall cascaded from a high cliff behind the main building, channeled into marble aqueducts that ran throughout the grounds.
'This place is massive,' Vaelen thought, stunned. 'In my old world, the King's palace was a fortress of grit and iron. This... this is a monument to wealth and power. It's twice the size of the kingdoms Peak.'
The gardens were filled with plants that glowed with a faint luminescence even in the daylight. Guards stood at the iron gates, wearing armor that looked like it was forged from glass. It was translucent yet moved with the fluidity of silk. He could see the mana flowing through the etchings on their breastplates.
Elara walked toward the massive oak doors of the main hall. She looked smaller than usual against the backdrop of such opulence. Her hand was trembling as she adjusted Vaelen's cloak.
The doors groaned open. The interior was a cathedral of light. Gold leaf lined the vaulted ceilings, and the floor was a single sheet of polished obsidian that reflected the flickering blue torches on the walls.
"Father!" Lyra yelled.
She broke into a run, her small shoes clicking against the obsidian. Vaelen looked toward the end of the hall. A man stood there. He was tall, with shoulders that looked like they were carved from granite. He had the same silver hair as Vaelen, but his eyes were a piercing, icy blue. He wore a heavy cloak made of white fur and a sword hung at his hip that radiated a pressure Vaelen recognized instantly.
'That's my father?' Vaelen was dumbfounded. 'The man is a walking mountain. He's loaded... and he's dangerous!'
The man didn't move to hug Lyra. He simply placed a heavy hand on her head, his gaze fixed solely on the infant in Elara's arms. Elara stopped a few paces away, bowing her head deeply. She looked terrified, her eyes darting toward the floor.
The man's voice boomed, echoing off the high ceilings. It was a voice used to giving orders to armies.
"The bloodline is confirmed," the man said. Vaelen caught the word for blood and a few others. "It is time. The coming-of-age ceremony is starting immediately."
He stepped forward, his boots sounding like hammer blows. He looked down at Vaelen with a gaze that felt like it was searching his very soul. There was no warmth in those eyes, only a cold, calculating curiosity.
"He will receive his name today," the man continued, turning back toward a set of even larger doors at the back of the hall. "And we will see if he is a blade worth tempering, or just another piece of scrap metal."
Vaelen felt his mother's grip tighten until it almost hurt. He looked at the man's back, a slow heat rising in his own chest. He didn't like being talked about like an object.
The large doors at the end of the hall began to swing open, revealing a chamber filled with hooded figures and a pedestal made of a single, massive crystal. The air in that room was so thick with mana that Vaelen felt like he was underwater.