Caelvaris is a kingdom blessed by the gods, or so the stories say.
It is grand and powerful, but beneath its shining surface, there is constant struggle.
The nobles fight among themselves, each trying to win favor with the royal family.
The more they please the king and queen, the higher they rise. For them, power is everything.
Our family, the Valerius House, is at the bottom of this noble hierarchy.
We hold a title, but it means little. Other nobles see us as weak, unimportant.
While they offer expensive gifts and make clever speeches at the palace, we can only watch from the sidelines.
The kingdom itself is not as strong as it once was.
Long ago, great wars left deep scars on this land.
Every year, new laws are made to fix the problems, but no matter how many changes come, the damage of the past still lingers.
Caelvaris is trying to heal, trying to rebuild, but it is not easy.
Even so, we endure.
We do what we can to survive in this ever-changing kingdom.
I am Sylvas V. Evander, a six-year-old boy who just cried himself to sleep not long ago.
Now, I am awake again, sitting in my upper room.
Lily, my caretaker, stands beside me, watching my every move.
She is worried.
She thinks I might collapse at any moment because of my head injury.
She had carried me up here herself, not wanting me to walk in my condition.
Why was I here, you ask?
It is because of the book I am holding in my hands.
A simple storybook, something made for children to learn words.
But I already know enough to speak and understand them.
Slowly, I open the book.
The pages are filled with pictures and strange symbols, ones I have never seen before.
Yet, somehow, my mind understands them as if they are familiar.
As if they have always been there, waiting for me to see them.
I wasn't interested in the language but instead the story I had remembered vaguely from Sylvas's memories, something that had piqued the interest of Zeke inside me.
The book's pages crackled like old bones as I turned them.
Illustrated heroes clashed against faceless gods across vellum skies, their triumphs inked in colors too bright for a tale born from destruction.
A children's primer, meant to teach letters through legend. But the story…
Long ago, the world was whole.
My breath hitched.
My fingers tightened around the edges of the book.
Knuckles paling.
A strange, sinking feeling crept into my chest, like something forgotten was trying to surface.
People spoke across vast oceans, their words carried in an instant.
They crossed continents in the blink of an eye.
Their towers scraped the heavens—not in worship, but in defiance.
It was a world of wonders, far beyond anything that existed now. But then, disaster struck.
My fingers twitched.
My stomach twisted, a dull ache forming at the back of my head.
It wasn't just a story anymore—it was a memory clawing at the edges of my mind.
something Zeke had known, something I shouldn't remember.
A terrible disease spread across the land. It began as something small, insignificant. Then, like wildfire, it consumed everything.
People fell ill, and no cure could stop it. Yet, the disease was only the beginning.
My breath came faster.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
The room around me felt distant, blurred at the edges.
The weight in my chest grew heavier, pressing down like an unseen force.
The gods, angered by the arrogance of humanity, unleashed their wrath upon the world.
A shiver ran down my spine.
The words felt too real.
My lips trembled as I turned the page, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The skies darkened.
The earth trembled.
Cities crumbled into dust, swallowed by the madness that followed.
People lost themselves—turning on one another, driven to chaos and ruin.
A world once supreme, once powerful, collapsed beneath the weight of its own sins.
I let out a shaky breath.
My chest felt tight, my body cold despite the warmth of the room.
The words blurred slightly, but I forced myself to keep reading.
But not everyone perished.
I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the book.
Of course, I thought bitterly. There are always survivors.
From the ashes, survivors gathered, and among them, heroes rose.
They did not fight the gods with swords or spells, but with defiance, with understanding.
They stood against the divine wrath, refusing to kneel, refusing to break. In the end, they succeeded in calming the gods' fury.
My fingers trembled.
My mind buzzed with thoughts I didn't want to acknowledge.
This was the history of the world after I died there, wasn't it?
Perhaps, the gods were pleased.
Or perhaps, they saw something in those mortals—something even they could not destroy.
As a gift, or maybe as a test, they granted the heroes a fragment of their power: Authority.
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips.
Authority.
Power, given to those who once stood against the gods.
I felt sick.
This power flowed through their bloodlines, passed from parent to child.
These heroes became the first kings and queens of the seven kingdoms, rulers blessed by the gods themselves.
Among them was Caelvaris.
I exhaled sharply, my shoulders tense.
My mind screamed at me to stop reading, to shut the book and push these thoughts away. But I couldn't.
The story ended with a lesson—a reminder that the royal families, chosen by the gods, held the only force keeping the world from falling into chaos once again.
I closed the book with trembling hands.
The silence of the room pressed down on me, thick and suffocating.
It was too familiar.
Too close to something buried deep inside me.
I forced my thoughts away, refused to let them piece together the truth lurking in the edges of my mind.
I could not let myself think it, let alone say it.
Ironic, isn't it?
Some people accepted the gods' rage and perished.
Yet those who rebelled, who defied the divine and became blasphemers, were the ones granted power.
A soft laugh escaped me, and Lily tilted her head.
Then it leaked out of me—laughter.
"AHHAHAHAHAHAHAH."
I couldn't control it.
I laughed like a madman, my voice echoing unnaturally in the quiet room.
Lily's brows furrowed in concern.
"What's wrong, young master?"
I couldn't stop myself as the laughter kept spilling out.
"Hahaha…"
A sound so unnatural, so out of place.
My own voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
"Lily, if this is true… then I'm doomed, aren't I?" I said between my laughter.
"I'm just a child of the past."
Lily's expression wavered, her usual calmness cracking into something uncertain—something almost fearful.
But this time, I didn't explain.
I didn't give her answers. I just kept giggling, the sound teetering on the edge of madness.
"What do you mean, young master?" she finally asked, her voice careful.
I tilted my head, still grinning. "It's something I'm too afraid to put into words, Lily," I whispered.
"Oh, and I'm sure you don't want to know."
I giggled to myself, then laughed again, because why not?
The emotions inside me were too wild, too tangled to make sense of.
I had to stabilize my mind somehow, and this—this broken laughter—was the only way I knew how.
Lily stepped closer and, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around me.
Her warmth pressed against my trembling body as she whispered, "Young master, please don't cry. It's okay. I know you're hurting after the head trauma. Please… tell me what's wrong."
What?
But I was laughing.
I raised my hands to my face and felt it.
Warm.
Wet.
Tears?
I was crying.
Once again
"Ahh, Lily… ugh… haha…" My laughter crumbled into something weaker, breaking apart into quiet sobs.
I buried my face against her shoulder, clutching her tightly.
"Please, tell me your worries, Sylv," she murmured, her voice soft and reassuring.
"I swear, I'll do anything to help you."
I wanted to tell her.
I really did.
The words clawed at my throat, desperate to be spoken.
Lily knew me. She had always known me—every little habit, every secret I had ever shared.
She had kept them all safe.
I wanted to tell her.
But then I remembered.
I remembered the days I spent as Sylvas.
Playing with Lily.
Laughing with her.
Trusting her.
I remembered my mother's gentle touch.
My father's proud gaze.
If I told them…
If I told Lily…
Would I break everything?
My voice shook. "B-but if I told you—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
The words tangled, stuck in my throat like a weight I couldn't swallow.
I couldn't afford to lose them.
Not my family.
Not Lily.
Not the few bonds I had left.
"I can't." My voice cracked under the weight of my emotions.
"No matter what happens, I'm afraid… I won't be able to tell you the truth. Sorry, Lil."
Lily exhaled softly.
She didn't move away, didn't let go.
"It's okay, Sylv," she whispered.
"Even if you're afraid to tell me, just remember—I'll always be here to help you."
Her words made my chest tighten.
My tears spilled faster, my sadness swelling until it nearly consumed me.
Then, suddenly, I pulled away.
I wiped at my face, forcing my expression into something steadier.
"Sorry, Lil," I said, my voice steadier now.
I had resolved myself.
There was one thing that could confirm my fears, one thing I, Sylvas had overheard my family mention once.
The royal archives.