*Parallel Earth*
In the ancient times of the Northern Continent on the world of Wesen, the night sky stretched endlessly, blanketed with a thick tapestry of stars. The winds outside were fierce, battering the stone walls of the modest birthing chamber. Deep in the heart of a secluded village, the air was heavy with both anticipation and fear, as if the world itself knew that this birth was unlike any other.
Inside the chamber, the air was warm but stifling. The low light of flickering oil lamps cast long, wavering shadows on the walls, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The smell of burning herbs filled the room, meant to ward off evil spirits and ensure a safe delivery. The steady hum of whispered prayers by the elder women echoed through the space, their voices trembling slightly as they surrounded the bed.
The mother, Elira, lay on a thick bed of woven furs. Her raven-black hair was soaked in sweat, sticking to her pale forehead. Her usually sharp, golden eyes were clouded with exhaustion as she fought through the waves of pain. Elira was a striking woman, known across the village for her fierce beauty—high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and an air of quiet authority that matched her warrior lineage. Tonight, however, her strength was fading as she labored to bring her child into the world. Her breaths were labored, her body trembling with the effort, but her resolve never wavered.
At her side stood her husband, Caelan, his brow creased with worry. His tall, broad figure loomed protectively over Elira, his hand gripping hers tightly, trying to provide comfort. His dark hair was cut short, and his piercing blue eyes were fixed on his wife, his usually stoic face betraying an unfamiliar softness. Caelan was a warrior as well, his body marked with scars from battles fought long ago. But tonight, he was no warrior—just a father, desperate to see his child safely into the world.
The midwives moved in close as the moment arrived. Their old, weathered faces showed lines of wisdom, but also a flicker of unease. They whispered to one another, their hands trembling as they prepared to assist with the birth. They had seen many births in their time, but something about this one felt different—ominous, even.
Elira's cry broke through the air, followed by a sudden stillness. The wind outside seemed to die down, as if holding its breath, waiting. The firelight flickered once more before dimming slightly, casting long shadows across the chamber. And then, after what felt like an eternity, the cry of a newborn rang out.
The baby's wail pierced the room, raw and strong, a sound full of life and new beginnings. The elder woman, hands steady despite her earlier nervousness, carefully wrapped the newborn in a soft, weathered cloth. As she handed the baby to Elira, the room fell into a hushed silence.
Elira's eyes softened as she gazed at her child, her heart swelling with overwhelming love and relief. Caelan leaned in, his hard features melting away as he beheld his son for the first time. The baby's skin was pale, almost glowing in the dim light. His tiny face was framed by a tuft of silver hair, an unusual sight that caused the midwives to exchange uneasy glances. But it was the baby's eyes that caused the room to fall into an awestruck silence. They were bright, like molten gold, shimmering with an intensity far beyond that of a newborn.
The midwives gasped softly, whispering to one another in low, anxious tones. "A child with golden eyes," one muttered under her breath, her weathered face a mask of both reverence and fear. The village elder, who had been overseeing the birth, raised her hands as if to calm the room, though her own eyes reflected the same unease.
Outside, the winds had picked up again, howling fiercely around the stone structure, almost as if the world of Wesen itself was reacting to the birth. The flickering lamps cast erratic shadows, giving the room an ethereal, dreamlike quality. Every person present could feel it—the weight of destiny hanging thick in the air, pressing down on their shoulders.
Elira, cradling her son, felt both an overwhelming love and a strange sense of foreboding. Caelan, too, sensed it—the baby in his wife's arms was no ordinary child. This child, born under the strange and ancient skies of Wesen, was destined for something far greater than anyone could yet understand.
The midwives exchanged glances again, their faces pale and eyes wide. The air was thick with tension as they silently left the room, leaving the family alone. As the door closed behind them, a heavy silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the newborn and the distant roar of the wind outside.
"Husband, is something wrong with our child? Why is everyone acting that way?" Elira asked uneasily.
"Don't worry, everything will be fine," Caelan replied, though he wasn't sure of himself.
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**The World of Wesen**
This is the world of Wesen, where among thousands of humans, at least 600 are Wesen.
Wesen are individuals who have the blood of ancient beasts. From the outside, they appear normal, but once they transform, they become something else—something dangerous.
The world of Wesen consists of four continents: the Eastern, Western, Northern, and Southern Continents. Humans only inhabit the Northern and Eastern Continents. As for the Western and Southern Continents, nobody knows what lies there.
Some people have tried to explore these unknown lands, but they were unsuccessful and lost their lives. Since then, no one has dared to venture there. Even before reaching another continent, they would have to pass through the dangerous ocean. So, nobody in their right mind would attempt the journey.