"Orb"

An orb of indescribable size, filled with relatively tiny motes of light, uncountable in number. Its backdrop, a great darkness. Churning endlessly, eternally, and ever-changing.

"Bright"

Indeed, the orb shone with beautiful lights. Its center, especially so. Within each mote of light lies even smaller specks, gathering together to form complex structures.

"Light"

Complex structures which, in the future, inhabitants will refer to as "Clusters." Each point of light is surrounded by a void that is incomparably less empty to the outside.

"Dark"

For light and brightness to be perceived, it requires something to contrast it to. And the [§|÷π€] outside of this orb is exactly the darkness needed for the light to be seen.

"Why?"

This darkness in truth, does not exist. It is an implication due to existence.

But there was a before. Before the miniscule orb, and before the Known have become it.

"...Me"

* * *

After a time inexpressible, The Orb in Darkness was no longer that. It now stood equal to its new opposition.

Nothing took the place of The [Change] when it was conceived.

And that nothing was foul.

This great brightness shone an imperceptible light. Countless moving motes of light shot out from somewhere at an immeasurable speed. At the source, the remaining light moved to its own destination, accompanied by 4 others.

* * *

There was a country named Oran, which was experiencing a mild storm. In the chaos and darkness of the night, something lit up.

A deafeningly loud clap was heard outside a certain house. A sound often heard in storms such as the one happening, but this one sounded especially close.

A pair, concerned by the possible damage their home might have sustained, quickly went to inspect the source of the light and sound.

"Oh my!"

"Quick! Bring it inside!"

A young couple scrambled after the startling revelation that an infant was placed on their doorstep. Moreso during a storm powerful enough to uproot trees.

After moving inside, the couple moved to confirm their suspicions. They were greeted by a pair of calm, gleaming white eyes. The man stammered, "Truly.. a child in this storm?"

"Who would do such a thing? It's... unthinkable." The woman knelt, in fear that her shaking hands would drop the baby. Unwrapping the cloth that covered its face, her eyes widened. "But look at him... he's perfect."

Arriving at the scene were children, a boy around 9 years old, and a girl around 5. They had worriedly come out of their saferooms to check on their parents.

But the confusion and panic soon changed into wonder and curiosity. The family of four huddled around the basket where the child was found.

Within the house, every person other than the baby was entranced. Due to the second floor, only the rolling thunder can easily be heard in the house. So no one's voices would have been drowned out by the sound of pelting rain and ice. But even if the rain and hail were audible, it instead would have been drowned out by their voices.

"It's... it's...!"

"Mommy! Can I hold it please!"

The older brother was slack jawed at the sight. The baby wasn't even crying, it just calmly looked at his family fighting over who gets to hold it.

The baby had a few strands of pitch black hair, and had a pair of eyes as white as snow. It was bundled in expensive-looking cloth, and the basket was not made of any material he had ever come across.

They locked eyes for a moment, and the boy immediately looked away. Not out of fear or panic. But because he understood why his family felt that way.

'It's damn cute.'

* * *

-Selia-

The quiet hum of the night filled the modest Oaken household, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden walls as they settled. Selia sat at the small kitchen table, the weight of the day pressing heavily on her shoulders. The babe lay peacefully asleep in the next room, but her mind churned restlessly.

Her fingers traced the edge of her teacup as she tried to focus on the soothing aroma of chamomile. Garthem had retired early, exhausted from repairing the yard and worrying about the storm's damage. The children were with the baby, likely bickering or lost in their usual antics. And yet, Selia couldn't shake the feeling that their family had become the center of something far larger than they could comprehend.

'He's not like other children.' She hadn't said it aloud yet, but the thought haunted her every moment since it had appeared on their doorstep. A baby abandoned during a storm was strange enough, but his eyes—so white they almost seemed to glow—were unlike anything she'd ever seen. He didn't cry, didn't fuss. He simply watched. Observed. It unnerved her.

Selia leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. What if we're not meant to keep him? The thought made her heart ache, but she had to consider the possibility. Perhaps his parents had left him here for a reason. Perhaps there was danger looming beyond their understanding.

The teacup slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Selia gasped, jolted back to the present. She hurriedly gathered the broken pieces, her hands trembling. 'No. He's ours now. I won't let anything happen to him.'

-Garthem-

The dull ache in Garthem's back was a familiar companion as he finished hammering the last board into place. The storm had left their yard a mess, but the damage was manageable. What wasn't manageable was the growing sense of unease that gnawed at him since finding 'him.'

He stood, stretching his arms and letting out a groan. The sky was calm now, the stars glittering above in a way that made the chaos of the storm feel like a distant memory. Garthem wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced toward the house. The warm glow of candlelight spilled from the windows, a comforting reminder of his family's safety.

But safety was fragile. Garthem had seen enough in his days as a Ferrier to know that peace could shatter in an instant. The world was unpredictable, filled with madness that defied logic and reason. He thought of the baby's calm, unblinking eyes and felt a chill run down his spine. 'Where did you come from, little one?'

He shook his head, brushing the thought away. For now, his duty was to protect his family, no matter the cost. He would find answers, but not at the expense of their safety.

-Tanya-

Tanya skipped around the room, her energy boundless as usual. She twirled in circles, humming a made-up tune while clutching a small stuffed rabbit. "Windy, Rainy, little prince!" she sang, her voice high and sweet.

The baby, propped up in a basket nearby, stared at her with those wide, curious eyes. Tanya giggled and leaned closer. "Do you like my song? I can make up another one if you want!" She didn't expect an answer, of course, but she felt a strange connection to the baby.

"Do you think he likes me, Felix?" she asked, glancing at her older brother, who sat quietly in the corner, reading a book.

Felix didn't look up. "I'm sure he does, Tanya," he said, his tone distracted.

Tanya frowned and plopped down beside the 'little prince.'

"You're no fun. Cyclone's way more interesting than you are."

The baby blinked at her, and for a moment, Tanya could have sworn he smiled. She gasped, clapping her hands. "He smiled at me! Did you see that, Felix?"

Felix sighed. "Sure, Tanya. He smiled."

-Felix-

Tired of his sister's naming spree, Felix leaned back in his chair, letting the book fall shut with a soft thud. The house was unusually quiet now, with Tanya off in her own world and their parents busy elsewhere. His gaze drifted to the baby, and a strange sensation prickled at the back of his mind.

The baby was different. That much was obvious. Felix didn't have the words to explain it, but he could feel it, like an invisible thread connecting them.

He shook his head, and resumed reading.