The night the child was born…
The sky broke.
Not cracked.
Not split.
Broke.
Thunder detonated across the heavens with a violence so immense that the earth itself seemed to shudder beneath it. Windows shattered throughout the capital. Stone towers groaned. Horses screamed in their stables, rearing wildly against their reins.
People flooded into the streets of the kingdom of Valenor, drawn by instinct and fear.
And when they looked up—
Their blood ran cold.
The clouds had turned red.
Not sunset red.
Not firelight red.
Blood-red.
Lightning ripped through the sky again and again, each strike brighter than daylight, each impact shaking the ground like the fist of an angry god. The air filled with the sharp smell of scorched stone. Wind tore through the city, howling between buildings like a wounded beast.
Old men dropped to their knees.
Children clung to their mothers, crying.
Even battle-hardened soldiers felt unease creeping into their hearts.
Because storms like this…
Did not belong to nature.
They belonged to prophecy.
High above the city, within the royal palace, chaos erupted.
Servants ran through the marble corridors, their footsteps echoing like drumbeats of panic. Guards barked orders to one another, struggling to maintain control. Priests hurried past with trembling hands, lighting sacred candles and whispering desperate prayers to distant gods.
Fear had reached the heart of the kingdom.
And at the very top of the tallest tower—
A queen was fighting for her life.
"Push, Your Majesty!" the royal healer shouted.
Her hands blazed with radiant blue light as healing magic poured from her palms in shimmering waves. Sweat streamed down her lined face as she forced every ounce of strength into keeping the queen alive.
The queen screamed.
A raw, desperate cry tore through the chamber as another wave of agony ripped across her body. Her fingers clawed into the silk bedsheets, knuckles turning white.
"I can't…" she gasped.
"You must!" the healer insisted, voice cracking.
Outside, lightning struck so close that the entire tower trembled violently. Dust rained from the ceiling. The torches along the walls flickered wildly, shadows dancing like restless spirits.
The storm was growing stronger.
Too strong.
As if something in the world was gathering.
Waiting.
Watching.
Then—
The healer froze.
Her magic flickered.
Then vanished.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes widened in horror.
"That's impossible…" she whispered.
She raised her trembling hands again.
Blue light flared to life—
Then died instantly.
Again.
And again.
Each attempt collapsed into nothingness, as though the very air around the queen rejected her power.
A cold chill crawled down the healer's spine.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Outside the tower window—
The storm stopped.
Not slowly.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Thunder vanished.
Wind disappeared.
Rain froze in midair.
The clouds hung motionless, as if the sky itself had been turned to stone.
Silence swallowed the world.
Absolute.
Total.
Unnatural.
It felt like the universe had taken a single breath—
And refused to release it.
Then—
The child was born.
The queen collapsed against the pillows, exhausted and barely conscious. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. The healer caught the newborn in her trembling hands, heart pounding against her ribs.
For one long moment—
Nothing happened.
No cry.
No movement.
No sound.
The chamber stood frozen in stunned silence.
The child lay motionless in her arms.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Fear tightened around the healer's chest like a tightening chain.
"Why isn't he crying?" the queen whispered weakly.
Her voice trembled with dread.
The healer swallowed hard.
Slowly—carefully—she lifted the baby toward the candlelight.
And her heart nearly stopped.
The child's eyes were open.
Wide open.
Newborn infants were not meant to open their eyes so soon.
But this one had.
And those eyes—
Glowed.
A faint silver light shimmered within them.
Cold.
Ancient.
Emotionless.
Not the eyes of a newborn.
The eyes of something that had been watching the world long before this moment.
The healer stumbled backward.
Her hands shook violently.
"Your Majesty…" she whispered.
The queen forced herself upright despite her exhaustion, panic rising in her chest.
"What is wrong?" she demanded.
The healer hesitated.
Then slowly placed her hand over the baby's chest.
Her magic surged to life once more—brilliant, powerful, searching.
Scanning.
Looking for the one thing every living being possessed.
Mana.
The energy of life.
The source of magic.
The force flowing through every creature in the world of Eryndor.
Seconds passed.
The glow of her magic flickered.
Then—
Nothing.
The light vanished instantly.
Like a candle extinguished in darkness.
The healer's face drained of color.
Her lips trembled.
And in a voice barely louder than a breath, she spoke the words that would change the fate of the world forever.
"He has no mana."
Silence filled the chamber.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
Terrifying.
In this world, mana was life.
Every human possessed it.
Every animal possessed it.
Even monsters possessed it.
Even the dying possessed it.
But this child—
Had none.
The queen's breathing became ragged.
"No…" she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
"That can't be true."
Tears filled her eyes as she reached out with trembling hands, pulling the baby gently into her arms.
"My son…"
The healer checked again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the result remained the same.
Empty.
Completely empty.
Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.
"This has never happened before," she said.
"Not once in recorded history."
Far beyond the kingdom—
Something stirred.
Deep beneath a mountain, a colossal creature opened one glowing eye.
Inside a ruined temple swallowed by shadows, ancient statues began to tremble.
In the frozen north, a legendary sword buried in ice vibrated faintly within its prison.
Across the world, powerful beings felt it.
The disturbance.
The imbalance.
The impossible.
Back in the tower—
The baby moved.
Slowly.
Calmly.
He turned his head.
And looked directly at the healer.
Not randomly.
Not instinctively.
Deliberately.
A sudden wave of fear washed over her.
This child was not weak.
Not powerless.
Not ordinary.
Something else.
Something unknown.
Something dangerous.
Then—
A voice echoed inside the baby's mind.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Emotionless.
Ancient.
"System initialized."
At that exact moment—
Deep beneath the palace—
An ancient stone seal cracked.
A thin line of glowing light spread across its surface.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Chains rattled violently in the darkness.
And from the shadows below, a deep voice rumbled—ancient, patient, and filled with quiet terror.
"After a thousand years…"
A pause.
Then—
"…the forbidden child has returned."