Three moons after the Seer's death, Queen Isabella's labor pains began with the setting of the sun. It was an omen that the court astronomers noted with grave concern—for in Verdantia, children born at twilight were said to walk the boundary between light and shadow, never fully belonging to either.
The birthing chamber had been prepared with all the ceremony befitting a royal child, yet an atmosphere of dread hung over the proceedings like a shroud. Tapestries depicting scenes of triumph and glory adorned the walls, but tonight they seemed to mock the terror that gripped every heart present.
King Aldric paced outside the chamber doors, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. Each of the queen's cries sent a spike of icy fear through his chest. Soon—too soon—they would know whether Verdantia had been blessed with a savior or cursed with a destroyer.
The first sign that something was terribly wrong came with the birth itself. As the child drew his first breath, the clear evening sky suddenly darkened with clouds that had not been there moments before. Lightning split the heavens without warning, and thunder rolled across the kingdom like the laughter of malevolent gods.
No bells rang.
No songs were sung.
Not because of sorrow — but fear.
The Omen
The child was born at twilight.
The sun vanished behind a sudden veil of clouds. Thunder rolled. The palace shook. The sacred Flame of Verdantia — which had burned for eight hundred years — flickered. Then dimmed.
A priest dropped his censer.
In a distant village, the wheat spoiled overnight. In the mountains, an avalanche struck without warning.
In the palace, the newborn did not cry.
The Inspection
King Aldric stood outside the birthing chamber.
His hands trembled.
His first two children had been born with light above them. Laughter. Blessings. The mark.
But this child?
The moment the midwife stepped out, her face told him everything.
"Your Majesty," she said, barely above a whisper. "The child is healthy."
Aldric stepped inside.
Queen Isabella lay still, pale, cradling the child. The baby's eyes were already open — dark, unblinking, too calm.
The king approached.
"Show me his back," he ordered.
The midwife obeyed.
She turned the child gently, revealing pale skin.
Smooth. Unmarked.
No flame. No sun.No seal of Verdantia.No prophecy.
Nothing.
The Verdict
The chamber fell silent.
Queen Isabella looked away.
One of the priests gasped. Another dropped to his knees.
Aldric stared at the child, unmoving.
"There's no mark."
A whisper from behind: "The Seer said we'd know him by the mark…"
"Then this is not the savior," Aldric said."This is the destroyer."
The Fall
He reached down.
Picked up the infant.
Held him up to the light.
"If you are what I fear," he said, voice shaking, "then let the gods judge you now."
And he threw the child against the stone.
The crack echoed through the chamber.
Blood splattered the floor.
Screams.
Then… crying.
Weak. Hoarse.
But alive.
The child moved.
Bones twisted, realigned. Skin sealed.
He cried like a newborn should.
But there were no arms reaching to comfort him.
No hands to hold him close.
Only silence.
And fear.
The Name They Gave Him
There was no name.
No ceremony.
Only a sentence.
"He cannot die," said a priest."Then he must be contained."
Aldric looked once more at the child.
Not with awe.
But revulsion.
"Monster."
He turned and walked out.
Queen Isabella never moved.
The midwife wept.
And the newborn — nameless, unmarked — was carried into darkness.
Where he would stay for the next ten years.