A few moments before Aselia's essence fully entered the unborn child, on Koralith in the elven town of Eethri-on.
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(Myrin's Pov)
The tremors beneath me felt like the earth itself was breaking apart, a terrifying force that mirrored the chaos in my heart. "What's happening?!" I shouted, my voice cracking as panic surged through me. My diamond eyes darted toward my wife, Zaleria, who lay writhing in pain on the birthing table.
"The ground is shaking! Please hold on, Zaleria!" cried Kiirion, the village's elvish doctor. His voice was tight with tension as he tried to assist her. Zaleria, my beloved, always ethereal in her beauty, looked like an otherworldly vision even now. Her golden hair, matted with sweat, and her pale, once radiant skin spoke of her exhaustion, yet she still seemed divine. This labor had pushed her to the very edge of her strength.
Above us, thunder cracked and boomed, as if the heavens were beating war drums in rage. The earth beneath me trembled violently, and lightning flashed in rapid bursts, making the dimly lit room seem as bright as midday. This was no ordinary storm; the sky churned with unnatural fury, as though some cosmic power loomed just beyond the veil. The trembling ground felt like an omen, as though the gods themselves feared what was about to come.
"I-I don't understand this storm! It's impossible! The entire house is shaking!" I yelled, clutching the nearest table to steady myself as the vibrations threatened to knock me down. Around me, books tumbled from shelves, and furniture rattled violently.
Zaleria screamed again, a heart-wrenching sound full of agony and desperation. My heart clenched as I saw her suffer, but then—something strange began to happen. Her stomach glowed, radiating an intense light, like the sun itself had nestled within her womb. The brilliant light pulsed and shimmered, illuminating the entire room in its divine radiance.
Kiirion staggered back, shielding his eyes from the overwhelming glow. "What… what is this?! I've never seen anything like it!" he stammered, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he beheld the impossible sight before him.
The light only grew stronger, and then the moment arrived. Zaleria gave one final push, and Seira Xilsys was born. She did not cry as most newborns do. No, my daughter entered the world in utter silence, her small body glowing with an ethereal light. The room seemed to bow to her presence, the radiance casting divine shadows that flickered against the trembling walls.
I stood frozen, unable to speak, unable to move, as my gaze fixed on my daughter. She was radiant, glowing like a celestial being, her tiny form too pure, too holy for this mortal realm.
"This… this is impossible," Kiirion whispered, his words nearly lost in the raging storm outside. "This must be a divine revelation! A child born under such omens… we must inform the village elder at once. This is no ordinary child!"
"No!" I snapped, grabbing Kiirion's wrist before he could leave. My voice was low, filled with a commanding dread I barely recognized as my own. "You will speak of this to no one. Do you hear me?"
Kiirion turned wide, fearful eyes to me. "But… but the elder—"
"I said no one!" I hissed, leaning closer, my grip tightening on his wrist. "If word gets out, they will never let her live a normal life. She'll be seen as a monster, or worse, a tool of the gods. We do not know what just happened, and I will ensure it stays that way."
For a moment, there was only silence. Kiirion met my eyes, and in them, I made sure he saw my unyielding resolve. Slowly, he nodded. I knew he would not defy me—not after what I had done for his family. Years ago, I saved his son from certain death. He owed me, and I was calling in that debt now.
"I understand," he whispered reluctantly, though unease lingered on his face. "But… this light, these tremors—people will ask questions. They'll come for answers."
"Let them ask," I replied, my voice cold and firm. "You and I will take this secret to our graves. She's our daughter, and I will protect her, no matter what."
With a solemn nod, Kiirion quickly gathered his things and left, leaving me alone with Zaleria and our glowing, silent child.
Zaleria lay exhausted, her breaths shallow, her eyes heavy-lidded. Despite everything, she managed a soft smile as she cradled Seira in her arms. The child's light was so intense it was almost difficult to look at her directly, but Zaleria gazed down at her with boundless love.
"Look, Myrin," Zaleria murmured weakly. "She's so quiet. Most babies cry when they're born, but she… she's so peaceful."
Kneeling beside her, I brushed a damp strand of golden hair from her face. My eyes never left Seira's glowing form. "She's… unlike anything I've ever seen," I whispered, my voice trembling with awe and fear.
The hours that followed were a blur of silence. It was not until dawn, as the storm began to calm, that Seira opened her eyes for the first time.
"Look, Mama! She's opening her eyes!" came the excited voices of Kaelen and Lura, my two eldest children, who had somehow crept into the room without me noticing. Six-year-old Kaelen, with his dark purple hair and ruby-red eyes, stood beside his younger sister Lura, her blonde hair shimmering in the soft light of dawn.
Zaleria gasped softly, her eyes filling with tears as we all gazed upon Seira's first look at the world. Her eyes—shimmering amethyst, like twin purple moons reflected on a serene lake—seemed to freeze time itself. The air grew still, and the room's temperature dropped ever so slightly. I felt an overwhelming sense of awe, but also a creeping dread. What kind of power lay hidden in my newborn daughter?
"She's… beautiful," I whispered, tears brimming in my own eyes. Yet beneath that beauty lay a question that terrified me: What had we brought into this world?
Zaleria kissed Seira's glowing forehead, her lips trembling with love. "Our little star," she whispered tenderly. "Our Seira."
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(Zaleria's Pov)
A few weeks had passed since I gave birth to my second daughter, Seira.
The weeks that followed had been peaceful, but an underlying tension hung heavy in the air. The storm that had torn through the countryside had left behind more than just destruction and shattered lives. It had left whispers in its wake—whispers that traveled quickly, spreading like wildfire throughout the land. Talk of celestial interference, divine omens, and strange, unexplainable energies that seemed to have shaken the very earth beneath our feet, disturbing the natural balance in ways no one could fully comprehend.
I stood by the window, cradling Seira in my arms, feeling her tiny, warm body against mine as I gazed out at the townspeople passing by. Their faces were drawn, their eyes full of suspicion and concern, and I could hear their conversations—soft, hurried murmurs that spoke of the day when the skies had gone mad.
"They say a child was born the very day the storm struck," one villager muttered to another, his voice low. "A child of the gods, no less. It's unnatural, I swear. Nothing good can come from something like that."
"They've been saying the same thing in the village over the hill," the other villager responded, his voice just as wary. "Some believe it's a sign of things to come, others think it's a curse. A warning, perhaps. Who knows what's next?"
My heart clenched painfully at their words, and I had to swallow down the rising tide of anxiety in my chest. I turned away from the window, refusing to let their unfounded fears take root in my mind. "They don't know anything," I whispered to myself, pressing Seira closer to me as if I could somehow shield her from the weight of their gossip. "They'll forget soon enough. These are just senseless, baseless rumors. Nothing more."
But Myrin, standing quietly by the door, did not share my calm. He had seen too much, felt too much—he could sense the power emanating from our daughter, even in her infancy. These rumors weren't going to disappear. If anything, they would only grow louder, spreading further with each passing day.
"They've reached the very edges of the Empire," Myrin said quietly, his voice laced with concern. "I've heard whispers from travelers passing through, too. These rumors... they're spreading faster than we ever expected."
I met my husband's gaze, my heart filling with a deep, gnawing fear. The weight of it pressed heavily on my chest. "What will happen if they find out?" I asked, my voice barely more than a trembling whisper. "If they learn the truth about her?"
Myrin was silent for a moment, his face grim as his eyes fixed on the floor. The tension in the room seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive, as though the very air itself was holding its breath. Finally, he spoke, his voice tight with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "I don't know," he admitted softly, his gaze meeting mine with a look of determination that steadied me, even as my own fear threatened to swallow me whole. "But there's one thing I do know—we'll do whatever it takes to protect her. We'll love her, no matter what. Even if the whole world turns against us. Against her."
I nodded in response, though I didn't feel the reassurance his words were meant to provide. I held Seira closer, as though I could protect her from all the dangers of the world simply by wrapping her in my arms. But I knew deep down that this was only the beginning. The storm of rumors was just the start. We were not the only ones who had taken notice of the strange, inexplicable events surrounding our daughter's birth. Cruel, monstrous individuals had already caught wind of what had transpired, and they were not interested in protecting her or us.
And worse still, they were coming.