In the silence that followed the Queen's sacrifice, no one in the capital knew what had happened.
The festival went on.
The music played.
People laughed and danced.
But across the thirteen realms — far from the palace — there was no joy.
They had all felt it.
Not magic.
Not prophecy.
Something deeper.
Something new.
In a fortress of black stone, a figure with horns whispered:
"Something has entered this world… and it does not belong to us."
High above the clouds, a winged giant roared, shaking the skies:
"A presence without chains… unwritten by fate."
In a chamber of gold, a radiant one wept, tears falling without reason:
"We were not meant to guide them. They were meant to choose."
A crowned figure, ancient beyond centuries, placed their crown aside for the first time in ages.
"I cannot see their future. That alone is terrifying."
Far in the frozen north, a silent watcher spoke aloud for the first time in years:
"I felt warmth. And that means change."
Elsewhere, claws tore the earth until it bled.
Shadows curled deeper into themselves.
Storms shattered coasts.
Lightning scarred the heavens.
Venom spilled onto sacred stone.
Colors unknown lit the skies.
And in halls of spirits, trembling echoed like a thousand voices crying at once.
Each of them felt it.
A disturbance.
A spark.
A breath that did not come from destiny.
They looked to the sky, to the seas, to the stars — and they all asked the same question in their own tongue:
"Who was born?"
For days after the festival, sages searched scrolls, prophets screamed in confusion, and even the gods grew restless.
But the answer never came.
Because the eight children were gone. Hidden in places no one could track.
Lyena. Livar. Zephyrion. Nivor. Glacien. Xavius. Kaelen. Chronas.
And somewhere, far away, when the last of them opened their eyes for the first time, a storm howled across the universe.
End of Chapter 2 – The Kings Who Felt the Silence