The next morning, sunlight streamed through the small wooden window, bathing the room in a golden glow. Birds chirped outside, their songs mingling with the distant rustling of trees. Veloran was waking up to another peaceful day.
Lucian stirred in his cradle, his body still aching from the effort of the night before. He felt the faint hum of his newly formed Arcanum circle, fragile yet undeniably present, nestled deep within him. It was an accomplishment, but it had taken a toll.
He lay quietly, listening to the muffled sounds of his parents moving about the house. Lila's soft humming drifted into the room, accompanied by the clink of dishes. Alaric's heavy footsteps approached the door as he returned from the fields.
As the door creaked open, Alaric stepped in, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His eyes, kind yet sharp, fell on Lucian. "Good morning, little one," he said, his voice deep and warm. He leaned over the cradle, reaching down to scoop Lucian into his arms.
The moment Alaric lifted him, he froze. His eyes widened, his hand trembling slightly as he held Lucian closer.
"Lila," he called, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of alarm.
Moments later, Lila appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. "What is it, Alaric?" she asked, her tone curious but calm.
Alaric turned toward her, holding Lucian so she could see. "Look at his hand," he said quietly.
Lila's gaze dropped, and her breath caught.
Lucian's tiny hand, curled loosely into a fist, was glowing faintly. A soft, silvery light pulsed beneath his skin, barely visible in the daylight but unmistakable. The light seemed to flicker in rhythm with his heartbeat, steady and calm.
"What… what is this?" Lila whispered, stepping closer. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against Lucian's hand. The glow flared slightly at her touch, sending a ripple of warmth through her palm.
"It's Arcanum," Alaric said, his voice low. He looked at Lila, his brows furrowed. "But… how? He's just a baby. He shouldn't be able to channel energy, let alone manifest it like this."
Lila shook her head, her expression a mix of wonder and concern. "I've never seen anything like it. Not even among the children of the strongest cultivators."
They stood in silence for a moment, staring at the faint light emanating from their child. Alaric's mind raced, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Was this a blessing? A curse? He had heard stories of children born with extraordinary gifts, but those tales were rare and often tragic.
Lila, however, seemed less concerned. She cradled Lucian gently, her expression softening as she looked into his mismatched eyes. "Whatever this is," she said, her voice steady, "it doesn't change who he is. He's still our son."
Alaric nodded slowly, though the lines of worry on his face didn't fade. "We'll have to be careful," he said. "If anyone else sees this, they might not understand. And if word spreads…"
Lila met his gaze, determination flashing in her eyes. "Then we'll protect him. Whatever it takes."
In their arms, Lucian remained still, his mismatched eyes watching them intently. He could sense their emotions, the awe, the fear, the love. Though he couldn't speak, he wanted to reassure them, to tell them that he was more than just a child with strange abilities.
But for now, he let the moment pass. His glow faded as he willed his Arcanum to recede, the light disappearing into his skin.
Alaric and Lila exchanged a glance, clearly unsure of what they had just witnessed. "We won't speak of this to anyone," Alaric said finally. "Not until we understand more."
Lila nodded, holding Lucian closer. "He's special, Alaric. I can feel it. But we'll keep him safe, no matter what."
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to appear, Alaric and Lila sat by the fire, discussing what they had seen. They spoke in hushed tones, sharing every bit of knowledge they had about Arcanum, cultivation, and the mysterious forces that occasionally gifted mortals with extraordinary power.
Lucian listened quietly from his cradle, piecing together the fragments of their conversation. He learned that while humans could master nine circles of Arcanum, those with rare talent often exhibited signs early, though never as early as him.
He also learned of the dangers such gifts brought: fear, envy, and the threat of those who might seek to exploit him.
As he drifted to sleep that night, Lucian resolved to grow stronger. He would master the human system, learn its intricacies, and keep his celestial and infernal heritage hidden for as long as possible.
For now, he thought, this world doesn't need to know who I truly am.
Lucian's childhood passed in a quiet village nestled among rolling hills and sprawling forests. Though peaceful, his upbringing was anything but ordinary. Over the years, his parents worked tirelessly to nurture him, both as a boy and as a prodigy whose abilities continued to grow with startling speed.
By the time Lucian was three, he could already manipulate his Arcanum circle with surprising control. Unlike most children, who didn't even attempt cultivation until their early teens, Lucian's natural affinity made it effortless.
Alaric and Lila, while proud, became increasingly cautious. They forbade him from using his powers outside their home, warning him of the dangers of drawing attention. Lucian obeyed, though he struggled with the need to hide a part of himself.
Despite this, he absorbed everything they taught him like a sponge. Alaric began training him in basic combat techniques, teaching him how to wield a sword and how to anticipate an opponent's moves. Lila taught him discipline, meditation, and the fundamentals of healing Arcanum.
At six, Lucian formed his second Arcanum circle, a feat unheard of for someone so young. The process was more arduous than the first, but Lucian's determination never wavered.
This achievement marked a turning point. Lucian's physical abilities began to surpass those of children twice his age, and his senses grew sharper. He could see farther, hear faint whispers from across the village, and feel the subtle vibrations of life around him.
To conceal his strength, Alaric crafted wooden weights for him to carry during daily chores. They were crude but effective, keeping Lucian grounded while honing his physical endurance.
By eight, Lucian's thirst for knowledge had grown insatiable. He began sneaking into the village library, poring over scrolls and tomes about cultivation, geography, and history. He learned of the Nine Circles of Arcanum, each a monumental step toward power, and the rare Light and Dark Circles that only celestial and infernal beings could access.
He also discovered the legends of the Seraphim and the Abyssal Lords, mythical beings whose power eclipsed anything humans could achieve. Though he didn't understand why, the tales stirred something deep within him, a longing he couldn't quite name.
By the time Lucian turned ten, his Arcanum mastery continued to set him apart, though the physical changes he had feared never materialized. Despite his accelerated growth in power, his body remained that of an ordinary child, and for this, he was grateful.
He spent more time meditating and training under Alaric's guidance, growing stronger in his understanding of the two circles he had cultivated. The visions of wings in his dreams, though, grew more vivid, leaving him with a nagging sense of something waiting just beneath the surface.
He occasionally felt strange twinges in his back, faint and fleeting, but dismissed them. Lila's calming presence reassured him that he was in no rush to unlock all of his potential.
Lucian's twelfth year began quietly but with a growing sense of unease. He had reached his third Arcanum circle, a feat that made Alaric both proud and wary. Even without the physical markers of his celestial or infernal heritage, Lucian exuded a quiet power that was hard to ignore.
On his birthday, Alaric and Lila gifted him a leather-bound journal, encouraging him to record his thoughts and discoveries. "It's important to remember who you are," Lila said, brushing a hand through his dark hair.
Lucian nodded, grateful but introspective. As much as he tried to focus on his training and studies, he couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was on the horizon.
By the time Lucian reached his twelfth year, the small village of Veloran had begun to feel too small. Though nestled in a beautiful valley surrounded by forests and hills, it lacked the mystery and excitement he craved. Every morning, as he finished his training or chores, he would find himself staring at the horizon, wondering what lay beyond the distant mountains.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and the sky burned with hues of gold and crimson, Lucian approached Alaric.
"Father," he began hesitantly, his mismatched eyes reflecting the fading light, "what's the capital city like?"
Alaric, leaning against the fence with a mug of ale in hand, raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest?"
Lucian shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I've read about it in the books at the library. It sounds… different. Bigger. Full of people and things I've never seen before."
Alaric chuckled. "That it is. A place of wonders, for sure. But also a place of trouble if you're not careful."
Lucian nodded but remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
The next morning, a stranger arrived at their home. Lucian noticed him first, a tall man riding a sleek black horse up the dirt path. The man's dark cloak billowed in the wind, and his sharp features carried an air of quiet authority.
Alaric stepped outside to greet him, his expression lighting up with recognition. "Ronan!" he exclaimed, clasping the man's arm in a firm handshake.
Ronan dismounted with a smooth grace that spoke of years of experience. His piercing gray eyes swept over the house before landing on Lucian. "So this is the boy you've written about," he said, his voice deep and steady.
Lucian shifted awkwardly under the stranger's gaze but held his ground. "Lucian," Alaric said, beckoning him over, "this is Ronan. He's an old friend of your mother and me. Traveled with us back in the day."
Ronan extended a hand, and Lucian took it, his smaller hand engulfed in the man's firm grip. "You've got a strong grip for a boy," Ronan said with a faint smile. "Your father's trained you well."
That evening, over a simple meal of roasted venison and fresh bread, Ronan shared stories of his travels. He spoke of vast cities, bustling marketplaces, and academies where the brightest minds gathered to learn and compete.
Lucian listened intently, his curiosity growing with every word.
"It's been years since I've seen the capital," Ronan said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm heading there in a few days to deliver a message. You should come with me."
Lucian's heart leapt, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Me? To the capital?"
Alaric exchanged a glance with Lila, his brow furrowed. "Ronan," he began cautiously, "the capital isn't exactly safe for a boy like him."
Ronan waved a hand dismissively. "He's twelve, Alaric. Old enough to start seeing the world. Besides, he'll be with me."
Lucian looked at his parents, his expression pleading. "Please, Father. I want to go. I'll be careful. And I'll have Ronan with me."
Alaric sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Lila placed a hand on his arm, her eyes soft but understanding. "He's growing up, Alaric," she said gently. "We can't keep him here forever."
After a long pause, Alaric nodded. "Fine. But you listen to Ronan and stay out of trouble. Understand?"
Lucian grinned, his excitement barely contained. "I promise."
The days leading up to their departure were filled with preparation. Ronan helped Lucian pack, offering advice on what to bring and what to leave behind. Alaric gifted him a small dagger, its blade sharp and sturdy.
"This isn't for show," Alaric said sternly. "If you need to use it, you use it. No hesitation."
Lucian nodded, slipping the dagger into his belt.
The morning of their departure, Lila hugged him tightly, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Be safe, my boy. And write to us when you can."
Lucian mounted a small horse Ronan had brought for him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. As they rode away from the only home he had ever known, he glanced back to see his parents standing at the edge of the path, their figures growing smaller with each step.
The road ahead was long, but Lucian's heart was light. For the first time, the world felt within reach.