"Father, why are you going to seal that demon inside of your own son?!"
Cloud's voice rang through the vast chamber like a thunderclap, so loud that even the crystal walls seemed to shudder.
The Lunar King remained unmoved on his celestial bed. He lay among silken sheets embroidered with ancient runes, his body pale and battered, the weight of war pressing against his frail frame. Above him, orbs of crimson liquid hovered in the air, casting an eerie glow that swallowed the once-pristine brilliance of the chamber.
The King's chamber was enormous—so vast that it could have been mistaken for a throne hall. Towering crystal pillars lined the room, their smooth, translucent surfaces catching the dim flickers of floating lanterns. The polished floor mirrored the blood-red sky outside, its surface rippling slightly under the shifting glow of the orbs.
Yet, despite its vastness, the room felt stiflingly small.
Twenty-four attendants stood in the corners like statues, their robes shimmering like woven stardust. Their hands were raised toward the orbs, fingers twitching ever so slightly as they manipulated the flow of crimson liquid within. The orbs pulsed gently, their rhythm synchronized with the labored breaths of the man who lay dying before them.
These floating vessels served as the King's lifeline—a desperate means of transfusion, draining and replacing blood in an attempt to keep him alive after his brutal war with the Elf Kingdom.
The aftermath of battle clung to him like an unforgiving shadow. His robes, once immaculate, were now faded with dried blood, torn where deep gashes had yet to fully heal. The weight of the kingdom pressed against his weary shoulders, yet through it all, his lips curved into a weak, knowing smile.
"B-Because East is the only one capable of handling the Demon Elf's powers."
His voice was hoarse—barely more than a whisper—yet it rang louder in Cloud's ears than his own shouting.
Cloud's lips trembled. His body tensed, hands curling into tight fists at his sides. His chest heaved, struggling to hold back the storm raging within him.
"I don't care!" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I know East is strong, but he's still just a child, Father! I can't just stand here and watch him suffer!"
His heart pounded against his ribs, his breaths uneven.
"A-And why must we—your children—bear the kingdom's weight? C-Can't we just live as normal kids?"
The chamber was silent, save for the faint hum of magic weaving through the orbs. The attendants did not move. They did not react. Their faces remained unreadable, as if Cloud's words were nothing more than fleeting echoes lost in the grand expanse of the room.
Cloud swallowed hard, his throat tight. His father's silence was answer enough.
There was no such thing as normal for the children of the Lunar King.
Cloud's fingers curled tighter, nails digging into his palms as he listened to his father's weakening voice.
He had always known the weight of being a Guardian, but knowing and accepting were two entirely different things. He could bear it himself—he had already learned to carry his burdens without complaint. But watching East, Mila, and the others struggle under the same crushing expectations? That was a torment he could not endure.
His father's words drifted through the chamber like a dying wind, fragile yet heavy with the past.
"You know, m-my son," the Lunar King murmured, his breath hitching. "I-I was just like you when my father, King Luscious—the King of the Northern Skies—told me I was prophesied to be the Lunar King."
His chuckle was soft, barely more than a whisper, yet it was laced with something bitter. The sound rattled in his chest, interrupted by ragged breaths, as if even laughing took too much out of him.
"I was so scared…" he admitted, his words fragile as the orbs pulsed above him. "I was the only child… parentless at a very young age when the Elf King, the demon Armaros, destroyed the Northern Skies, taking my beloved father and mother with him."
Cloud couldn't see his father's face clearly from where he stood, but he could feel the weight of his sorrow thickening the air.
"I was lost," the King continued, his voice growing softer. "Depressed… anxious… and honestly, I was forced to build my own empire when I had nothing but ruins."
A silence stretched between them. The attendants remained still, their faces unreadable, as if they had heard this story many times before but dared not react.
"But even in that darkness," the King exhaled, "my father's loyal empire remained. They gave me their trust, placed their faith in someone as fragile as myself."
His eyes, hazy yet filled with something distant, shifted toward the ceiling where the orbs floated aimlessly.
"That's where I found my strength," he whispered. "Not in power… not in vengeance… but in the belief of my people—their unwavering trust that I could lead them."
Cloud swallowed hard, his throat tight.
"And now I have," the King sighed, a wistful smile playing at his chapped lips. "I avenged my parents' deaths… I set free what remained of the Northern Skies."
His voice trailed off, his breathing uneven. His body trembled, the weight of his years pressing heavily upon him.
Cloud's heart clenched.
He wanted to argue. Wanted to tell his father that his suffering had only led to more suffering—that his vengeance had birthed a cycle that now threatened to consume his own children.
But how could he? His father had given everything to protect them. And now, he was asking the same of them.
The Weight of the Moon's Will
"I-I hope one day, you will find the same will like I did, from those who trust you, from those who support you..."
The King's voice was weak, strained with exhaustion, yet the words carried the weight of his reign, his battles, and his burdens. His once-mighty form, now pale and frail, lay surrounded by the pulsing crimson orbs, each one swirling with liquid that fed his broken body. His lips curved into a tired smile.
"You are my son, after all... the one whom the Moon chose to be the very first Guardian."
Cloud stood motionless, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His fingers clenched at his sides, trembling—not out of fear, but frustration.
Frustration that he could not change this fate.
Frustration that no matter how hard he fought against it, the burden of their kingdom would always fall upon him and his siblings.
His lips quivered. His throat tightened.
Then, after a long silence, he slowly lowered his head and bent into a deep bow—the most respectful one he had ever given his father.
No words. No protest.
Just acceptance.
With heavy steps, he turned, his heart hammering against his ribs.
But the moment he faced the entrance of the chamber, he froze.
Standing there, bathed in the dim glow of the crimson orbs, was Queen Yui.
She did not move, yet her presence filled the entire room.
A vision of grace, she stood tall and ethereal, as if carved from moonlight itself. The silken fabric of her robes cascaded around her like flowing water, shimmering between silver and pale blue with each delicate shift. The patterns woven into the fabric mimicked the waves of a tranquil sea, endless and unfathomable.
Her long, platinum hair cascaded in soft, undulating waves, adorned with tiny crystals that reflected light like scattered dewdrops. The strands, lighter than air, moved as if carried by an unseen current, their glow blending seamlessly with the mist-like aura that surrounded her.
Her face—serene, luminous—held an otherworldly beauty. Skin like polished pearl, soft and untouched by time. Her delicate lips, neither too thin nor too full, held a gentle smile, one that radiated warmth and love.
And her eyes…
Deep pools of ocean blue, endless as the night sky, held a tenderness that melted even the harshest storms. They shimmered with quiet sorrow, yet carried the unwavering strength of a mother who had endured centuries of pain for the sake of her children.
Cloud felt something in his chest tighten.
His mother had always been a symbol of comfort, a sanctuary amid the chaos. No matter how difficult their burdens, how merciless their destinies, Queen Yui remained a pillar of unwavering love.
And yet, as he gazed at her now, standing silently beneath the dim glow of the orbs, Cloud realized something—
There was sadness in her eyes, a sadness far deeper than his own.
Slowly, the queen stepped forward, her movements fluid like water gliding over smooth stone. Each step was weightless, as though she were floating, untouched by the heaviness of the world around her.
Cloud barely breathed as he watched her approach. The gentle scent of lotus and morning dew filled the air, a fragrance he had known since childhood—one that reminded him of warmth, of safety, of home.
And then, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him.
It was not a fragile embrace, not the soft, distant touch of a ruler or a queen. It was tight, firm, filled with the kind of love only a mother could give.
A love that sought to shield. To comfort. To remind him that, despite everything, he was not alone.
Cloud's breath hitched.
His hands hovered for a brief moment before he gripped the fabric of her robes and buried his face against her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, my love," Queen Yui whispered, her voice softer than the hush of wind over still waters. "Soon enough, you will understand why we are the chosen ones to bear these burdens."
Her fingers combed through his hair, soothing, unhurried.
"But for now," she murmured, "please, lend us your power."
Cloud's shoulders trembled. His lips pressed together, shaking as he swallowed the emotions rising in his chest.
A single tear slipped from his eye, tracing a silent path down his cheek.
"I will, Mother."
His voice was quiet, yet resolute. A vow, unshaken.
He tightened his hold on her, anchoring himself in her embrace for just a little longer—just until he could gather the strength to face what lay ahead.
•••
Cloud now stood before a massive dark translucent orb, its surface swirling with shifting shadows and faint flickers of eerie crimson light. Inside, suspended in an almost dreamlike state, lay East—his tiny form curled as if still nestled in the warmth of the womb.
A newborn. Innocent, untouched by the world. And yet, he was already bound to a fate heavier than most would ever bear.
The orb pulsed, an unsettling rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the demon sealed within. Wisps of black mist coiled around East like living tendrils, drawn to his very essence. The contrast was haunting—his small, delicate fingers twitched ever so slightly, his silver lashes fluttered against his soft cheeks, oblivious to the monstrous power now tethered to his soul.
Cloud's breath hitched as he pressed a hand against the cold surface of the orb. Despite the oppressive energy radiating from it, something inside him stirred—not fear, not pity, but a strange sense of pride.
A mere infant, yet he carried within him a force strong enough to shake the heavens.
"He must be very powerful," Cloud muttered, almost in awe.
"Obviously," a voice piped up beside him.
Cloud turned to find his little brother, Fall, standing there, arms crossed, lips pursed in mild annoyance.
"I mean, I could handle it, too," Fall continued, huffing as he flicked his golden-brown hair out of his eyes. "I'm prophesied to be the Autumn Guardian, you know."
Cloud arched a brow, smirking. "Oh? So you'd be fine with a demon soul lodged inside you?"
Fall hesitated, glancing at the orb, then shrugged. "Well... maybe not inside me. But I could probably tame it." He cleared his throat, suddenly very focused on the decorative carvings along the chamber walls. "Besides, I'd make a way better vessel than Blaze. That guy broods way too much. If you're gonna have a demon, at least make it entertaining."
Cloud chuckled, shaking his head. Typical Fall. Always boasting, always making light of things, but never one to turn his back on those he cared about.
His gaze returned to East, still peacefully unaware of what had been done to him.
And yet, despite the circumstances, despite the dark power bound to his soul—there was something undeniably pure about him.
A quiet strength.
A sleeping storm.
And Cloud had no doubt that, one day, his little brother would awaken and show the world just how powerful he truly was.
East had always been extraordinary. From the moment he was born, it was clear that he was different—stronger, more resilient, almost untouchable. He had carried the soul of Armaros within him without struggle, without resistance. While others feared the demon's influence, East simply existed alongside it, as if he had never been burdened at all.
But his time as a vessel was not meant to last.
The moment the Moon chose him as the Spring Guardian, everything changed. The Guardians were meant to be pure, untethered by darkness. And so, by divine decree, Armaros had to be extracted.
No one, not even the Lunar King, truly understood the Moon's will. But there was no questioning it.
And so, East was placed inside the same translucent orb where he once lay as a newborn. This time, however, it was not to bind a demon to his soul—it was to remove it.
The ten strongest sorcerers in the kingdom stood in formation, hands raised, voices chanting in unison as they called upon their most powerful magic. The air in the chamber grew heavy, thick with an ancient energy that made even the walls tremble.
Cloud and Fall, now older, stood at a distance, watching with unreadable expressions. They had seen East grow from a child to a warrior, and now, they were witnessing his transformation once again.
Then, it happened.
A black miasma, thick and writhing like a living shadow, was pulled from East's body. It twisted violently within the orb, searching for something—anything—to latch onto. The sorcerers acted fast, sealing the essence of Armaros before it could escape.
But as the dark energy hovered in midair, a sudden miscalculation sent it plummeting toward the crystalized floor. Gasps filled the chamber, panic rippling through the onlookers.
Had they failed?
Had Armaros been set free?
But instead of destruction, something unexpected happened.
The crystal floor absorbed the miasma.
And then... a flower began to grow.
A single black bud, delicate yet eerily vibrant, sprouted where the darkness had fallen. The room fell into complete silence. Cloud and Fall lingered near it, their bodies tensed, ready to run if the strange bloom became something dangerous.
The bud trembled, then slowly began to unfurl.
Petals as dark as the night sky spread open, revealing a fully bloomed black peony—a flower often associated with the west, a symbol of new beginnings.
The moment was fleeting. The petals, as if sensing their time was short, began to fall one by one.
And then, from the very center of the fading flower, the black miasma stirred once more, swirling upward like a silent storm.
Something—no, someone—was forming within it.
A boy.
Draped in flowing black robes, his hair as dark as midnight, his eyes empty yet bottomless. His skin was pale, untouched by sunlight, his presence unnatural yet undeniably real.
Everyone in the chamber was frozen, caught in a trance as the boy turned his gaze toward the orb where East was still sealed.
Then, as if acting on instinct, he reached out.
The moment his hand made contact with the orb, it shattered.
Not with force, not with magic—just a simple touch, as if the powerful spells binding it had never existed in the first place.
East, now freed, fell forward gracefully, landing on his feet as if nothing had happened.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the boy in front of him.
Then, he smiled.
"West," East murmured, his voice filled with certainty. "You are now named by it as someone who is born from my first bloomed flower—a black peony."
West blinked, his expression unreadable.
Peonies. A flower that represented the West. A symbol of renewal, of change. It was fitting.
And East had done this as if it were the simplest thing in the world, as if bending fate to his will was nothing more than a casual spell.
Then, East continued, his tone unwavering.
"Now, you will be my other half. The only one capable of taming Armaros' soul."
West held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding.
"Yes, master."
A ripple of disbelief ran through the room. The strongest sorcerers in the kingdom, the Lunar King's finest warriors—none of them could comprehend what had just occurred.
Had East planned this all along?
Had he always known that he was meant to be the Spring Guardian?
Cloud could do nothing but stare. He had heard the prophecies before, of how the Four Season Guardians would be stronger than any other Guardian before them.
They were to be the final line of defense when the time came. And today, with his own eyes, he had seen the beginning of that future unfold.
A smile curved on Cloud's lips. "Damn stronger younger siblings."