Gabriel was surrounded by strangers. When he heard footsteps—hurried and heavy. A man stormed into the room, rain still clinging to his robes. He stopped, breathless, as his eyes met the child's.
"My Son!," the man declared, laughter booming from his chest. "Look at him, not a moment old, and already trying to fight the heavens themselves."
The newborn flailed wildly in his mother's arms, terrified of these giants who held him as though he were sacred. When the man approached, the child cried louder, tiny fists beating against the air.
The man lifted the child with surprising gentleness. "Why does he cry so fiercely? Is he ill?" he asked, concern flickering in his voice.
This was Sued Ozar Aren, Eleventh Lord of the Order of the Dragon, Lord of Ortenia, and Champion of the Realm. To mortals, he was a man in his prime. But his true age had long vanished into the river of time. Four centuries? Five? Even he had forgotten. The world knew him as The Everlasting. Some whispered that when all things ended, when stars fell and gods withered, only Lord Sued would remain—enduring like a mountain unmoved by the winds of fate.
"He cries because you stink," said Lady Ariana dryly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You trained until your clothes were soaked." Lady Ariana was the Countess of Ortenia, the youngest daughter of Siegfried the bold Duke of the "White Plains".
"You overdid it."
"I was too worried. We've tried too many times. And every time… they slipped away. Before they could even be named."
Lady Ariana's gaze softened. "I know. But the priest said hope would come when the stars aligned."
Lord Sued looked down at the crying child. "Then the stars must have aligned today."
"Arion. The brightest of stars shines today, and that shall be his name," whispered Lady Ariana. "Our little star."
Lord Sued repeated the name, reverently: "Arion… my little star."
"I will give you the world, you only need ask," Lord Sued murmured. "If dragons rise to take you, I will break their wings. If demons reach for you, I will tear their realms asunder. If gods themselves descend, I will remind them that even they can bleed."
Then, as though the heavens themselves bore witness to his oath, a thunderclap rolled across the skies, shaking the very air. Lord Sued did not flinch. He only held the child tighter, his arms trembling not from weakness, but from emotion. His tears, hidden for centuries, fell freely now—shamelessly.
Too many had died. Too many names buried before they were ever spoken. Lord Sued had once believed the heavens cursed his bloodline, that even with his strength, he would die without an heir.
But now… this child. His child.
The baby cried on, unaware. But Lord Sued only smiled, for it was a healthy cry—full of life, full of will.
His star had been born. And no force in the heavens or below would claim him.
Strange sounds. Unfamiliar faces. Words that swirled around him like drifting leaves—Gabriel knew they meant something, but they slipped through his thoughts like water through a broken vessel. He had many questions, each one coiling in his mind like smoke without wind. "What is this place? Who are these people?" But of all the questions, one rose above the rest like a mountain in the mist:
Was he to live as an infant in this new life?
He could not accept it. So he screamed, limbs flailing in helpless rebellion. He screamed not from hunger, nor fear, but from defiance. But the people, blind to his fury, mistook resistance for need and placed him gently into the arms of the beautiful woman they called Lady Ariana.. To those around him, he was merely a hungry baby. A misunderstanding so vast it made him cry harder.
The man beside her—tall, proud, exuding a kind of noble arrogance—stepped out, his voice booming like thunder in a calm sky.
"Go," he said, "summon the knights. Let the people rejoice. For I have been blessed with a son! Three days and three nights of feast! Let all come and share in our joy!"
Even though the sky was still painted with stars, hooves thundered down the cobbled streets. Torches were lit. Bells rang. The night was torn apart by celebration. Light blossomed across the city like stars falling into lanterns. Joy echoed from every corner—chants of praise, cheers for the young Lord. Fires lit not for warmth, but for celebration.
Letters flew like migrating birds, carrying the news to every corner of the realm, announcing to the noble houses that Lord Sued now had an heir. From distant halls and silver towers, the great families turned their eyes toward the child.