Five years had passed since Prince Yansel's birth, and the palace of Daustin hummed with activity as night fell. In his chambers, young Yansel tossed restlessly in his sleep, his mismatched eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids.
In his dreams, Yansel found himself in a strange, modern office. He was taller, older, dressed in a suit he'd never seen before. People called him by a different name, speaking of business deals and corporate strategies. The dream felt vivid, almost like a memory.
Suddenly, the scene shifted. Yansel was in a dark void, a golden figure with obsidian eyes looming before him. "Remember," the figure's voice echoed, "your journey has only begun."
Yansel awoke with a start, his small body drenched in sweat. These dreams had been occurring more frequently, leaving him confused and unsettled.
A soft knock at his door preceded Queen Sylvana's entrance. "Another dream, my little dragon?" she asked gently, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Yansel nodded, his mismatched eyes wide. "Mother, why do I dream of another life? Of strange metal carriages and tall buildings of glass?"
Sylvana's face tightened almost imperceptibly. "Dreams are curious things, Yansel. They can show us many wonders." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "But remember, you are Prince Yansel of Daustin. That is who you are now."
As she spoke, a shadow seemed to move independently in the corner of the room. Yansel blinked, and it was gone.
"Now, sleep," Sylvana said, kissing his forehead. "Tomorrow, you begin your lessons with the royal mage."
As Sylvana left, Yansel settled back into his pillows. Outside his window, a raven perched on the sill, its eyes glinting in the moonlight. For a moment, Yansel thought he saw a symbol flickering on its breast - a stylized shadow that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
In the corridors of power, whispers began to circulate. The prince's eyes, his unusual dreams, the queen's secretive behavior - all were noted by those who dwelled in the shadows, their motives as yet unknown.