The halls of the Faeloria Royal Palace were built from white marble and silver-veined stone, towering monuments to centuries of power. But behind their beauty hid the soft echo of whispers—some of awe, some of fear.
"Did you see his eyes? Like amethyst flames..."
"He never cries. Not even when he fell from the stairs last week."
"And that mark on his face... unnatural."
"Cursed, perhaps?"
Servants gossiped behind silk-curtained doorways. Nobles watched with forced smiles. Even the knights, brave and battle-hardened, gave respectful bows not from affection, but caution.
Prince Serenil Aetheryn was not like other children.
He spoke rarely, if at all. He didn't scream or demand attention like most royal heirs. Instead, he wandered in silence—always observing, always watching. His gaze, sharp and knowing, cut through people like a blade. It was not the look of a child.
It was the look of a man with lifetimes behind his eyes.
Only one person seemed unbothered by the boy's presence—King Sylas Aetheryn, his father. A mountain of a man with short-cropped silver hair and eyes that once burned like molten steel. But since the death of Queen Lyriana, those eyes had dimmed.
Still, Sylas visited Serenil often, silently watching from afar as the boy played alone or practiced simple movements with wooden toys that mimicked swords.
"…Just like her," Sylas once whispered, his voice heavy with grief. "And just like someone else…"
Despite his stoic exterior, Serenil often caught flickers of regret in his father's eyes. Love, too—but buried beneath layers of royal expectation and emotional restraint.
And so the boy played the role.
Quiet. Obedient. Curious when necessary. Naive when expected.
But when the doors were closed and the maids dismissed, Serenil practiced—slow, controlled movements with sticks fashioned into swords. Forms no four-year-old should know. Techniques from a world long gone.
He remembered them all.
Every battle. Every enemy. Every betrayal.
This was no longer just life. It was preparation.
For what, he did not yet know.
But he could feel it.
Something was coming.