Viren was not alone.
That realization came slowly, but it was important. Though he spent most of his days in the same rooms, surrounded by the same caregivers and runes, he began to notice subtle things—a change in aura, a glance that lingered too long, footsteps that paused outside his door.
Someone was watching him.
Not his parents.
Not the staff.
Someone else.
---
The day started like any other. Morning sun filtered through the enchanted glass of his nursery, casting shifting light across the cradle. It wasn't warm sunlight—more like filtered starlight, soft and silver-blue, the result of a lightweave dome above the estate that bent day into elegance.
Lysara fed him herself that morning. She did that more often now, ever since the construct attack. She always smiled, always spoke gently, but her eyes never stopped scanning the room. Even now, as she held him in her arms and whispered soft stories into his ear, her free hand hovered close to the charm at her belt.
"I know you're listening," she said once, quietly. "You always are."
Viren didn't respond, of course. He cooed. Blinked. Reached toward the strand of silver hair falling near her face.
But yes. He was listening.
To her words. To the space between them.
And to the strange presence he had started sensing beyond the walls.
---
Later that evening, during his rest period, it returned.
The presence.
Not hostile.
Not friendly either.
Just… curious.
Viren lay still in his crib, pretending to sleep. His breath slowed. His body relaxed.
And he waited.
The air didn't ripple this time.
It folded.
Reality itself dipped in a narrow line along the far wall. Like a fold in paper. As if space itself was unsure whether to remain whole.
Then it unwrapped.
A shape stepped out.
Human in shape, but not in presence. Cloaked in gray and silver robes that shimmered with shifting patterns, the figure moved with silence too perfect to be natural. Their face was hidden behind a veil of magic that made it impossible to focus on.
They knelt beside the crib.
Watched him.
And whispered, "You're already weaving the strands. Not even half a year and already… unraveling rules."
The voice wasn't male or female. Just calm. Patient.
Viren didn't move.
The figure didn't expect him to.
"I'm not here to harm you. Not yet," they said. "But others will. You must grow faster than they expect. Sooner than they think. That is the only way you survive."
They touched the side of the crib. Left behind a single crystal shard—black, trimmed with silver. It glowed faintly before sinking into the crib's side as if sinking into water.
"A gift. Or maybe a test. We'll see what you make of it."
Then, without fanfare, they folded space again—and were gone.
The room returned to normal.
But nothing felt the same.
---
The next morning, Viren woke with a new awareness.
There was something embedded in the crib's frame.
Not just a crystal—but a seed of information. It hummed with restrained energy, subtle and complex.
He didn't touch it with his hands. He didn't need to.
He reached with his will—still clumsy, still forming—and brushed against it.
The shard responded.
[UNKNOWN CODE: Interface Detected]
Encryption Layer: Threadweave Binding | Level: Moderate
Potential Unlock: Partial Memory Archive – Obscured Origin
A swirl of images entered his mind—not clear memories, but flashes.
A sigil carved into a mountain. A cloak with no body. A hand made of stars.
Then pain.
Then silence.
Viren blinked.
He didn't understand what he had seen, not fully.
But he knew what it meant.
Someone knew who he was becoming.
And someone wanted him ready.
---
Later that week, the house shifted.
Aurex called for a family assembly—not a celebration, not a ceremony, but something heavier. Relatives came from other wings of the estate. Cousins. Advisors. A few old elders in floating chairs.
And Virelle.
Always Virelle.
She smiled, kissed his forehead, and said, "Still not speaking? I suppose that's for the best."
Then she sat beside Aurex and whispered things Viren couldn't hear—but her aura flared every time she looked at him.
Lysara never let him out of her arms during the meeting.
They discussed many things, most of which he didn't understand.
But one word came up again and again.
Ascension.
It wasn't about him.
Not yet.
But someday… it would be.
And not everyone in the room was happy about that.
---
That night, as Lysara carried him back to his room, he reached toward her necklace—an old family charm, made of three interlocked circles.
"Curious again?" she said softly.
He blinked once.
She paused.
Then asked, "Do you know how many people are afraid of what you might become?"
He didn't blink this time.
She smiled sadly. "Good. You should."
Then she opened the door—and froze.
The toy shelf had been rearranged.
Not by staff.
By someone with precision.
Someone who left behind a new object among his things.
A small black cube. About the size of a thumb.
It pulsed once, and then stilled.
---
Viren knew.
This wasn't a game anymore.
This was preparation.
The world wasn't waiting for him to grow up before it made its move.
It was already moving.
Now it was his turn.
To grow faster.
To learn more.
To begin forging not just tools—but purpose.
---