Chapter One – The Departure of the Mother and the Birth of the Throne
After all that strange noise, piercing and disturbing to the ears…
A heavy silence fell. A silence heavy enough to ring the bells of terror in the heart of the future emperor.
He ran toward the room, ignoring all the whispers and faces around him, as if something inside him was pushing him to escape the truth—by running directly toward it.
The path to her chambers was familiar, yet today… it felt strange. Lonely.
How could a single emotion turn the known into the unknown?
How could footsteps once memorized become shaky and unsure?
"Hey… haah…"
Despite the weight in his chest and the trembling in his legs, he finally arrived.
But his tear-filled eyes didn't find what they were searching for.
There she was—lying down, as if asleep, awaiting a distant dream.
Her silken white hair spilled across the pillow. Her closed eyes still carried the trace of a final tear…
And the small hand that just moments ago had cradled her child… had gone limp.
He stepped closer… he wanted to touch her.
But a hand stopped him.
He looked up, startled, to find Duke Elkraus standing before him, unmoving—silent as a tomb.
"What...?"
He could only whisper.
The Duke shook his head, and with a choked, bitter voice that barely escaped his throat, he said:
"She's... gone."
The young emperor froze. The words wouldn't settle in his mind.
This man's daughter, his beloved, his wife… and the mother of the child who hadn't even learned to cry yet… was gone.
He stepped closer, knelt beside her. He couldn't believe what he saw.
He gently brushed her hair, as if she were merely sleeping... as if she'd open her eyes and smile at him again.
"No... my love…"
"You're saying this beautiful face is gone?"
"Is this… the face of death?"
His voice trembled, then turned to anger:
"Who will take care of the child now? How is this possible?!
What use were all the doctors I summoned from across the continents?!"
But there was no answer.
The floor beneath him echoed with the weight of his sorrow.
He collapsed onto the nearby couch, burying his head in his hands.
"I try not to hate the child… he's mine too…
Yes… he's mine. And he's a prince… the son of my dearest."
He looked then at the Duke, who remained silent beside his daughter, holding his grandson in his arms.
"Take care of him yourself.
Give him her palace, and… leave me be.
I will not interfere, not even in matters of succession."
---
Three Days Later...
An official announcement from the imperial palace echoed like an explosion across the empire:
> "The Empress Mother has passed during childbirth. A second prince is born."
The streets buzzed with whispers, sorrow swept through the lands.
Poets among the nobles named that day:
> "The Departure of the Mother… and the Birth of the Throne."
---
Three Years Later...
In the long corridors of Marquis Sayenar's estate, the sound of small hurried footsteps echoed.
A child with golden hair falling to his shoulders, and eyes of shimmering silver—like moonlight reflected on still waters—was rushing toward his father's study.
"Father! I want to go see the prince!"
He called as he knocked on the grand, gold-ornamented door.
Inside, Marquis Alex Sayenar sat among piles of documents.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days—yet a soft smile bloomed on his face when he heard his son's voice.
"What brings you here so suddenly?"
"I want to see him... I want to go today!"
"All right, why not?"
He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, weary but gentle.
"We'll leave this evening—once I've finished these papers."
"We'll use the teleportation gate, right?"
"We agreed, my little one."
The marquis had no other children...
And it seemed as if the entire world, for him, began and ended with this boy.
---
That Evening...
"Your Majesty, Marquis Sayenar has arrived to visit the young prince—with his firstborn son."
The message was delivered to the emperor.
"Hah... That man moved? Then the others won't be far behind."
The emperor replied coldly, yet his eyes betrayed interest.
---
In the Young Prince's Wing:
Marquis Alex Sayenar entered with a slight bow.
"Your Highness, I beg pardon for the unannounced visit… but my son insisted on meeting you."
The boy stepped forward with quiet, composed steps.
His silver eyes shone brightly—but felt oddly vacant.
His voice was soft, like a morning breeze:
"I am Ayant Sayenar, firstborn of the Marquis.
I greet Your Highness and apologize if my visit is untimely.
I was simply excited to meet you."
Prince Iswar nodded, showing neither annoyance nor welcome…
Yet something stirred in him.
That boy's gaze wasn't normal.
It was as if he peered through a veil of fog—
As if the words he spoke didn't truly belong to him...
As if something else lived inside that child.
But Iswar couldn't understand it.
All he could do was think:
> "That boy... doesn't feel like a boy."
Before he could reflect further, Ayant's voice rose again—clear and unwavering:
"I vow to be His Highness's companion, his friend, his aide, and his only ally… starting today."
And then he smiled.
A smile no child should ever know.
A smile only those who've lived for centuries could ever wear.