The night the child was born, the heavens wept. A storm raged across the skies, and the winds howled like tormented spirits. Dark clouds loomed over the grand city of Elarion, the heart of the once-mighty House Valtheris.

In the depths of the grand estate, Lady Seraphina Valtheris lay upon a gilded bed, her breath shallow, her body drenched in sweat. The pain of childbirth tore through her fragile form, yet it was not the mere agony of labor that filled the chamber with dread. It was the presence of something... unnatural.

The midwives trembled as they worked, their hands shaking as they assisted in the birth. The torches flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows on the walls, and the scent of iron thickened the air. The child had not yet emerged, but already, an oppressive force filled the room—an aura so potent that even the most seasoned attendants felt their hearts tighten in fear.

Seraphina's husband, Lord Aldric Valtheris, stood at the bedside, his steel-gray eyes fixed on his wife. His face, though hardened by war and politics, bore the slightest trace of worry. He was not a man who feared death, yet this night, something primal whispered in his soul—a warning that what was coming into the world was not meant to exist.

Then, it happened.

A final, anguished scream tore from Seraphina's lips as the child entered the world. The moment the baby's first cry echoed through the chamber, the torches were extinguished all at once. A wave of darkness surged outward, suffocating the light as though the very fabric of reality had been momentarily disturbed. The wind outside howled louder, rattling the stained glass windows of the estate.

The midwives gasped in horror.

The child's eyes… they were black as the void itself, with flecks of crimson swirling like embers in an endless abyss. It was as if the child bore the night sky within its irises, a void that seemed to consume the very essence of light.

And then, the crying stopped.

A deathly silence filled the chamber.

One of the midwives, an elder woman who had delivered hundreds of noble-born children, took a step back, clutching her chest as if she could not breathe. She had seen infants born sickly, deformed, even stillborn—but never had she felt pure terror emanating from a newborn.

Seraphina, despite her exhaustion, reached out weakly. "Let me… see my child…"

But the midwife hesitated.

Lord Aldric took the child into his own hands. He was not a man prone to superstition, yet the moment his fingers touched the baby's skin, a coldness seeped into his bones. It was as if death itself clung to the infant's flesh. And yet, the child was warm, alive. A paradox of existence.

Seraphina cradled her newborn weakly, brushing her fingers against its tiny, delicate face. Despite the fear in the room, despite the unnatural aura, she smiled.

"My beautiful child…" she whispered.

But before she could utter another word, a shattering noise erupted from outside the estate.

A bell tolled.

It was a warning. A symbol of danger.

And then—screams.

The sounds of steel clashing, of men dying, filled the night. The doors to the birthing chamber burst open, and a bloodied knight stumbled inside. His armor was dented, his face pale with horror.

"My lord!" he gasped. "The estate is under attack! The Inquisition—they have come for the child!"

Aldric's face darkened. They knew.

Of course, they knew. The moment the child was born, something had shifted in the world. The priests, the oracles, the cursed hunters—they must have felt it. The birth of a Valtheris marked by the Accursed Blood.

"No…" Seraphina gasped, clutching her child protectively. "They will not take my son!"

Aldric turned to the midwives. "Take Seraphina and the child through the hidden passage. Now."

One of the women hesitated. "My lord, this… this is no ordinary babe. Perhaps it would be best—"

Aldric's sword was at her throat in an instant. "Say one more word, and you will not live to regret it."

The midwife swallowed hard and bowed. "As you command, my lord."

More screams echoed through the halls. The Valtheris knights were fighting valiantly, but the Inquisition had come prepared. Holy fire lit up the night as warriors clad in silver armor stormed the estate, chanting prayers of purification.

The midwives helped Seraphina to her feet, supporting her weak frame as they hurried toward the hidden passage behind a grand bookshelf. The moment they disappeared into the darkness, Aldric turned back to the knight.

"How many of them?"

"Too many." The knight grimaced. "They brought the Executioners."

Aldric cursed under his breath. The Executioners were the Inquisition's most elite warriors—men and women trained to hunt down and eradicate anything tainted by darkness. If they had come, it meant they intended to end his bloodline tonight.

Drawing his blade, Aldric stepped forward. "Then we make our stand."

The great doors of the chamber were shattered apart as a group of silver-clad warriors stormed inside. Their leader, a man with golden eyes and a ceremonial greatsword, stepped forward. His voice was cold, emotionless.

"Lord Aldric Valtheris," the man intoned. "By the decree of the Holy Inquisition, your bloodline is declared an abomination upon this world. Surrender the child, and your deaths will be swift."

Aldric smirked. "You'll have to kill me first."

"So be it."

The battle began.

Steel met steel. Blood painted the walls. And amidst the chaos, a mother fled into the night, clutching a child whose destiny would shape the fate of empires.

The Accursed One had been born.

And the world would never be the same.