Birth of Omnipotent

The vast expanse of the night sky over the Celestian Kingdom glistened unusually bright, its stars seemingly closer than ever before. Constellations shifted, and a rare ethereal glow suffused the heavens, as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation. In the royal palace, nestled atop the capital's highest hill, an air of anxious excitement coursed through the halls. The quiet of the night was broken by hurried footsteps, whispered prayers, and the cries of a woman in labor. 

Inside the grand birthing chamber, adorned with golden tapestries and soft lantern light, **Lyria**, the sister of the King, lay on an intricately carved bed of mahogany. Her usually composed face was contorted with pain, beads of sweat trailing down her temples as midwives and healers bustled around her. 

"Steady breaths, My Lady," one of the midwives whispered, dabbing Lyria's forehead with a damp cloth. 

Lyria, though pale and exhausted, exuded a strength that silenced any doubts about her resilience. She was a warrior, renowned not only for her beauty but for her mastery of the sword. Yet here, in this moment, all her strength seemed focused on bringing her child into the world. 

Her mother, **Lady Elena**, stood by her side, gripping Lyria's hand firmly. Elena's face, usually calm and dignified, showed traces of worry. She leaned close to her daughter, whispering soothing words. "You are strong, Lyria. Just a little more. He's almost here." 

As another contraction wracked her body, Lyria cried out, her voice a blend of agony and resolve. A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing several lanterns and causing the remaining flames to flicker violently. The faint echo of distant thunder rumbled through the night, though the skies were clear. The midwives froze, their eyes darting around nervously. 

"What was that?" one of them whispered. 

Elena's sharp gaze moved to the windows, where the sky seemed alive with a cascade of shooting stars. "Focus on the child," she ordered. 

Moments later, with one final push and a cry that echoed through the room, the baby was born. The chamber fell silent, save for the soft wails of the newborn. A sense of profound stillness settled over everyone, as though the world itself had paused to bear witness to this moment. 

The midwife who held the child gasped. "His eyes…" 

The infant's eyes, wide and curious despite his first breaths, shimmered with an otherworldly glow. They weren't the soft blue or brown of a typical newborn but a deep, radiant silver, like liquid starlight. They seemed to hold galaxies within them, vast and unfathomable. 

Lyria, exhausted but determined, reached for her child. The midwife gently placed him in her arms, and as she cradled him, a rare, soft smile graced her lips. "He's beautiful," she murmured, tears pooling in her eyes. 

Elena leaned closer, her expression unreadable as she studied the child. "There is… something extraordinary about him," she said quietly. 

As Lyria looked down at her son, she felt a warmth unlike anything she had ever known—a bond so profound it seemed to fill every corner of her being. Yet, beneath the overwhelming love, a flicker of unease stirred. She couldn't explain it, but there was something *different* about her child. 

Outside the palace, the effects of the child's birth were felt in ways unseen by mortal eyes. In ancient temples hidden deep within forests, sacred flames flickered violently, their colors shifting unpredictably. High atop snow-capped mountains, hermits meditating in solitude opened their eyes as a sudden shift in the world's energy jolted them from their trances.

Across the realms, in places where only whispers of gods and demigods lingered, ancient forces stirred. Statues of forgotten deities cracked, their eyes glowing briefly before returning to stillness. The air carried a strange hum, a resonance that vibrated in the bones of the divine and mortal alike.

In a hidden sanctuary, an oracle awoke from a trance, her voice trembling as she spoke to the assembled priests: 

*The world shifts… A harbinger of balance and chaos has arrived*.The balance of realms trembles. He is both salvation and destruction.

Back in the palace, the midwives cleaned the newborn while Lyria rested. Lady Elena, seated nearby, finally asked the question on everyone's mind. "What will you name him, Lyria?" 

Lyria thought for a moment, her gaze never leaving her son. His tiny hand wrapped around her finger, and in that simple gesture, she felt his strength, his potential, and the weight of his existence."His name…" she began softly, "…is kaelith. A name that will one day be spoken across realms." Elena nodded, her expression solemn. "A fitting name for a child of such destiny." 

As the palace settled into a quiet lull, Lyria held her son close, whispering softly to him. "I don't know what the future holds for you, my little star, but I promise this: I will protect you with everything I have." 

In the hours that followed, while the palace began to celebrate the arrival of the royal heir, Lyria found herself unable to sleep. She sat by the window, cradling her son, watching the strange, shimmering sky. The child, though quiet now, stared at her with those luminous eyes that seemed to see more than they should. 

Unbeknownst to anyone else, the infant was not as innocent as he appeared. Deep within his soul, fragmented memories stirred—visions of a life once lived, of betrayal, power, and death. Though his thoughts were still clouded by infancy, a single truth echoed in the recesses of his mind: 

*I've lived before.* 

His tiny fingers clenched unconsciously, and for a fleeting moment, the air around him seemed to ripple, like heatwaves distorting the horizon. Lyria felt it—a faint, unexplainable pulse—and her unease grew. But she pushed the thought aside, choosing instead to focus on the peaceful rise and fall of her child's breathing. 

The sky outside remained alight with strange phenomena—streaks of light, shimmering constellations, and faint, otherworldly hues.Elena entered the room quietly, her footsteps soft against the polished marble floor. "You should rest," she said gently.

Lyria glanced at her mother, then back at her child. "I can't. Not yet. There's… something about him, Mother. Something I can't explain."

Elena placed a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "He's special, Lyria. That much is clear. But whatever destiny awaits him, he is still your son. Focus on that."

Lyria nodded, though her unease lingered. She pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. Outside, the stars continued their strange dance, as if heralding the arrival of something far beyond the comprehension of mortal minds.