Liora's tone grew more thoughtful, almost wistful, as she continued. "The Aurelians are few in number now, each of us tracing our lineage back to him. The silver hair you and I share is a mark of that ancient bond, a sign that his magic lives on within us."
She walked slowly, letting Kairos take in the sight of each portrait. "Your father," she said, her voice softening further, "is a weaker mage than I am. Our marriage was originally a political one, meant to solidify the importance of the Aurelian bloodline." There was a coolness to her words, but she never lost her gentle tone. "But he was the only one willing to duel an Aurelian for my hand. Most were too frightened by the silver hair alone."
Liora sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from Kairos' face. "Despite that, I've grown to care for him. He adores my hair, you know," she added with a soft smile. "Perhaps there is more than just duty between us now."
As they continued through the manor, something caught Kairos' eye—a chalice, intricately decorated and glowing faintly with an ethereal light. His tiny hand reached out towards it, drawn by some deep instinct. But as his focus sharpened on the chalice, a sharp pain seared through his head. Kairos winced, his tiny face contorting in distress.
The pain was accompanied by fragmented, distorted memories—visions of the dark-haired god, flashes of a beautiful woman lying in a bed of white flowers. Her face, so achingly familiar, reminded him of Tsuki, the love he had lost in his previous life. But no matter how hard he tried to grasp these memories, they shattered and slipped away, leaving him with nothing but a dull ache and an overwhelming sense of loss.
Kairos' eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the chalice, his tiny fists clenching in frustration. "Eclipse... what is this?" he thought desperately, hoping for an answer from the system that had become his constant companion. But there was only silence. For the first time, Eclipse offered no guidance, no comforting words, just a void where its presence usually was.
Liora, noticing the sudden change in her son's demeanor, immediately grew concerned. "What's wrong, my little star?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry. But Kairos could only cry, the pain and confusion too much for him to express in any other way.
She hurriedly carried him away from the chalice, her heart pounding with fear for her child. As they moved away, the pain began to fade, but the memories lingered, like shadows on the edge of his mind. Liora, desperate to soothe her son, whispered soft words of comfort, her voice trembling slightly. "It's alright, Kairos. Mama is here. Everything is going to be alright."
But in his mind, the image of the dark-haired woman lying among the flowers remained, haunting him with a sense of loss that was too profound for his infant heart to understand. And in the silence that followed, Eclipse remained eerily quiet, as if even it was unsure of what to say
In the midst of all this crying, my brother, Thorn, could be heard from outside in the courtyard. His voice rang out loudly as he honed his swordsmanship, each shout punctuated by the sharp clang of metal as he practiced. Thorn was relentless, pouring his energy into each swing, determined to perfect the basics until they became second nature. The sounds of his training were soon interrupted by the distant rumble of hooves, growing louder as a prestigious chariot adorned with strange, glowing symbols approached the manor.
The chariot came to a stop in front of the entrance, its doors flying open with a sense of urgency. Out stepped a tall man with brown hair, his frame imposing in gleaming white armor that caught the light like a beacon. A large shield was strapped to his arm, and on his back hung a long sword that seemed almost too large for a single person to wield. Beside him was a dainty woman, her white hair cascading down her back, her gown embroidered with the same symbols as the chariot. She exuded a holy aura, as if she were more spirit than flesh.
Thorn, who had been deep in his practice, noticed the pair approaching and immediately stopped. His face twisted into a sour expression, clearly displeased by their arrival. The man's eyes locked onto Thorn, and without a word, he drew his sword. Thorn barely had time to react before the man was upon him, their swords clashing violently.
Thorn grunted in pain as the force of the man's strikes drove him back. Despite his talent and recent achievements with the sword, Thorn was no match for the seasoned warrior. Each blow from the man's sword was precise and powerful, exposing Thorn's lack of experience in a brutal fashion.
From inside the manor, the sound of the battle reached my father's ears. He was the first to respond, his face a mix of concern and anger as he rushed to the courtyard. It seemed that the House of Aurelius had caught wind of my birth, and now their emissaries were here to claim me. The information had spread quickly from the manor akin to wildfire, and now the consequences were playing out before our eyes.
"Stop this at once!" my father commanded, his voice firm as he approached the scene. However, the Templar Knight, for that is what the armored man was, did not heed his words. His loyalty lay only with the direct descendants of Aurelius, and no one else.
Before my father could intervene further, my mother appeared, cradling me in her arms. Her expression was one of fierce protectiveness, though her steps were calm and deliberate as she approached the ongoing fight.
The white-haired woman, who had remained silent until now, spoke up in a voice as calm as a still lake. "Enough," she said simply, her words directed at the knight. Immediately, the knight halted his attack, his sword lowering as he turned to stand beside her without hesitation.