Sixteen years ago.
In a quiet, softly lit room, the warm golden glow of a mana lamp washed over pale curtains and polished wooden floors. The scent of healing herbs lingered in the air.
On a large bed in the center of the room, a woman with golden hair and deep sapphire eyes held a newborn close to her chest.
Her face was pale with exhaustion, her body still recovering from the labor—but her expression was full of warmth and peace.
She swayed gently, rocking the small baby wrapped in white cloth. The little one's hair was a faint whitish-blue, soft and wispy. His tiny fingers curled and uncurled, his face relaxed in deep sleep.
Her name was Cassandra.
And the baby in her arms was Azhriel.
For a while, there was nothing but peace. Just the quiet breaths of mother and child, the slow hum of life starting anew.
Then, suddenly—space rippled at the far end of the room.
