In the inner chamber of Lady Erina's room
As the intensity of labor tightens its grip on Erina, the atmosphere in the room grows tense and urgent. The maids and midwives hasten their movements, their faces etched with deep concern. They fetch fresh linens to replace those damp with sweat and begin boiling water for washing the child after birth. Their quick and efficient actions signal thorough and beforehand preparations. Lady Nour and Lady Deborah issue precise instructions. The air itself begins to vibrate in anticipation of the birth of a legend.
And then, in a moment that seems to hang suspended in time, the tension in the room is shattered by the sound of a newborn's cry.
The room erupts into a collective sigh of relief as the sound of the newborn's cry fills the chamber. The tension in the room is replaced by an overwhelming sense of calm and joy. Erina, still exhausted from the strain of labor, relaxes slightly at the sound of her child's first cry. A faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips before exhaustion claims her completely, and she drifts into unconsciousness.
Lady Nour moves swiftly to check the newborn, gently cradling him. Lady Deborah takes a quick look at Erina's condition. After confirming that Erina is stable, she nods to the maids.
The maids step forward, their movements now filled with excitement. They carefully clean the child and then wrap him in soft linens. Every movement he makes—twitching his fingers, the slight opening and closing of his eyes—seems to enchant the maids.
The exhaustion that had etched lines of worry on the faces of the maids and midwives fades away as they gaze into his blue eyes. His presence, so small, yet fills the room with a renewed energy.
Lady Nour turns her attention to Erina, ensuring that she is safe. She and Lady Deborah exchange approving nods, satisfied that everything is as it should be. Lady Nour hands the baby to a waiting maid, who gently cradles him and carries him over to the white-haired woman, who watches the scene with icy eyes but a soft smile.
The lady on the velvet sofa observes the scene with icy, unwavering eyes. Despite the emotions swirling around her, her expression remains unchanged—a picture of regal composure. Yet, there is a subtle shift—a soft smile on her lips. Her presence commands respect, and even without a word, she seems to hold the room in her gaze.
Beside her, the two women in royal dress exchange relieved glances as they lay eyes on the newborn child. Their stiff postures soften, and the tension that had gripped them begins to ease. They share a quiet moment of reassurance, knowing that the birth has gone well and the child is safe.
With a graceful and deliberate motion, the lady rises from the velvet sofa. Her white hair, like strands of moonlight, shimmers as she moves, and her elegant figure seems to glide across the polished floor. All the maids and midwives instinctively step back, fear and respect evident in their eyes.
The maid respectfully says, "Your Grace," as she carefully gives the baby to her.
The white-haired lady is none other than Lady Ersia Caelus, the Archduchess of Caelus Estate and the General Commander of the Sky Legion of the Empire. She is a woman known for her cold and icy exterior, having led countless battles that make her both feared and revered across the Empire. In the eyes of many, she is unyielding—a symbol of strength and courage.
Yet, as Lady Ersia cradles her newborn grandson in her arms, she seems to soften, and a flicker of warmth appears in her icy eyes. The baby lets out a soft cry, as if in response to the emotion in his grandmother's gaze.
The joyous moment between Lady Ersia and her grandson is abruptly shattered by a sudden surge of magical energy in the room. The air grows heavy and oppressive as the essence of magic rises in the chamber. The glowing runes surrounding the bed flicker erratically, their steady hum now a chaotic pulse. Every magical artifact in the room—the enchanted lamps, the protective wards, even the potions simmering in their glass containers—begins to vibrate and flicker, as if their stored magic is being drawn into the chamber.
Everyone freezes, their joy replaced by alarm. Lady Nour and Lady Deborah exchange panicked glances, their calm professional demeanor slipping away as the atmosphere becomes charged with volatile energy. The maids and midwives, their faces pale, retreat to the edges of the room, their eyes wide with fear. Even the two women standing behind Lady Ersia, who had previously been lost in the joy of the newborn's arrival, now widen their eyes in shock as the energy in the room continues to build with terrifying intensity.
Then, it begins.
Ancient and mysterious runes start to materialize in the air, glowing with a powerful primordial force . One rune appears, then two, then three, multiplying rapidly until chains of runes form, wrapping themselves around the newborn. These glowing chains swirl around the baby, their light pulsating with an otherworldly power. The child is lifted from Lady Ersia's arms and begins to hover in midair, suspended by the powerful magic that now consumes the room.
Gasps echo through the chamber as the chains of runes take the baby from Lady Ersia's hands. The Archduchess, usually so composed, reaches out instinctively, her hand slicing through the charged air as she tries to reclaim her grandson. But as her fingers brush the chains of runes, a wild and ancient aura erupts from them, pushing her back with a force that sends a shockwave through her. It isn't a hostile force, but it is powerful—too powerful for her to counter without risking harm to the child.
She doesn't use her full strength, knowing the danger it could pose to the baby. Instead, she tries to manipulate the magical energy, attempting to disperse the chains with her formidable skills. But the energy surrounding the runes is unlike anything she has encountered before—it is wild, chaotic, and deeply resistant to her control.
More runes appear, their glowing forms interlinking and reinforcing the chains that swirl around the baby. The cocoon grows denser, more complex, and soon, the area around the child becomes so concentrated that it begins to distort reality itself. The very air around the cocoon shimmers, and for a few meters, the magical energy is so strong that it becomes tangible, visible in the form of glowing, ethereal threads that pulse with raw power.
Lady Ersia's face hardens into a resolute expression. She can feel the immense pressure of the runes, the way they bend the rules of the world around them. She begins to gather her own magic, a cold, sharp energy that crackles in the air around her. Her intention is clear—she will isolate this room from the rest of reality if necessary, severing the flow of magic that fuels these ancient runes.
But just as she is about to unleash her power, something else appears.
Above the child, within the swirling cocoon of runes, a divine white manifestation begins to form. It starts as a faint glow, almost imperceptible at first, but quickly grows in intensity. The light is pure and radiant. It isn't just magical—it is something far greater, something that transcends the boundaries of the mortal realm.
Lady Ersia gazes at the white manifestation, her eyes turning white and hazy for a moment as the manifestation pulses slightly, as if communicating with her. Moments later, her eyes return to normal, clear and sharp. The anxious and troubled expression that had marred her face fades away, replaced by her usual composed demeanor. She orders emotionlessly, "Call everyone inside."
At this moment, the white manifestation has taken on a form, but the intensity of the magical essence surrounding it is so overwhelming that it's difficult to look directly at it. Only Lady Ersia can make out the general outline of a giant bird figure