Viren's world had changed quickly in the first few months of his new life. Though his body remained that of an infant, his mind—retaining the memories and logic of a former adult—processed everything like a sponge dipped into a pool of reality-altering ink. Nothing passed without observation. Every word spoken, every glance shared, and every magical phenomenon seen or felt became part of an ever-growing internal framework.
Aurex and Lysara, his new parents, didn't yet know how much he understood. But they could tell he was different.
Viren could recognize the subtle threads of energy in the air, like colors painted across invisible canvases. He tracked them with infant eyes, his tiny fingers sometimes reaching for streams of light only he could see. When Lysara cast spells to warm the nursery or calm him with lullaby enchantments, he watched the glyphs forming in the air. They were beautiful—complex patterns that shimmered with heat, memory, and will.
One day, while she traced a spell to inscribe a protective charm over his crib, Viren focused on her hand. Her movements were deliberate, yet relaxed. Her magic smelled faintly of lavender and ash, like an ancient garden buried beneath embers. He realized, even in those few gestures, that her energy flowed in two directions—one outward, one folded inward. She wasn't just casting. She was channeling through a pattern stored within her.
He memorized it.
Aurex, on the other hand, radiated a colder energy. His control over quantum resonance made everything around him hum, like a tuning fork vibrating just below the threshold of hearing. When he meditated in the living chamber, a bubble of quiet always formed around him. The walls pulsed. The floor adjusted. Sometimes, static flickered in the air, and the light dimmed slightly.
He didn't speak often to Viren, but when he did, his voice carried a strange echo—like layers of logic running in parallel. He once leaned over the crib and said, more to himself than to the child, "Stabilization at such an early stage is unheard of. Either he's suppressing the outbursts… or preparing for something bigger."
Viren didn't respond, of course. But his mind turned over the words like pieces of a puzzle.
A few weeks later, something unusual happened.
Lysara was away. Aurex was in a conference meeting via holo-projection. Viren was alone in the nursery, lying on a cushioned pad beneath floating glyph-toys. One of the toys flickered—an arc of dancing light shaped like a butterfly. It shimmered blue and violet, reacting to the ambient mana in the room.
Viren focused on it.
Not with idle curiosity.
With intent.
He reached—not with hands, but with will. Something inside him stirred. A pull. A whisper.
> [Devourflux: Passive Resonance Triggered]
Trace Source Detected: Enchanted Glyph Construct (Tier-0)
Core Extraction Initiated…
The butterfly's light froze.
Then, it twisted. Collapsed inward. The glyph spun like a petal in a cyclone and funneled toward Viren's outstretched hand. It didn't burn. It didn't sting. It simply became a part of him.
He saw fragments.
The moment it was created. The intention behind its glow. The signature of the artisan who had written the glyph's original framework.
Viren blinked. The room was quiet.
The remaining toys drifted. Some flickered nervously, as if aware of what had happened.
His breath was steady.
A moment later, a soft breeze rustled the edge of the curtain. A faint shimmer appeared above his hand—a flicker of the butterfly glyph, now altered. Its light was dimmer but more stable. Its shape… slightly changed. It hovered, then dissolved.
> [Devourflux: Residual Trait Acquired – Lightform Stability (Basic)]
Viren's heart raced.
Not in fear.
In discovery.
He hadn't just absorbed the glyph. He had understood it. Altered it.
A synthesis was coming.
---
That night, Lysara entered the nursery quietly, humming a tune from her homeland. She paused when she saw Viren staring at a crystal embedded in the ceiling—a sensor crystal. It monitored energy fluctuations. Today, it was glowing faint blue.
"Strange," she whispered. "No spikes, but the mana balance shifted again."
She knelt beside him. "You're watching everything, aren't you, little one?"
He blinked at her. Not with recognition, but with the quiet focus of one listening.
She hesitated. Then leaned closer, her voice lowering. "They're afraid, you know. Some of the others. Not of you. Of what you might become."
Viren blinked again.
Lysara brushed his hair gently. "They think a child born during the convergence eclipse, under braided starfire, is a harbinger. A sign that something will shift."
She smiled.
"But I don't believe in omens. I believe in growth. And choice."
She kissed his forehead. A warmth settled into his core. A kind of calm followed. Not sedation. Something deeper.
Trust.
---
The next day, Aurex received a report from the estate's inner circle. Null sensors—designed to track foreign influences—had recorded a micro-fluctuation near Viren's room. Not dangerous, just… odd.
He said nothing aloud. But that evening, he installed a hidden scan node in the wall.
"Just a precaution," he told Lysara.
She didn't argue. But when Aurex left, she walked to the crib and whispered, "Be careful, Viren. They don't yet understand you. And in this world… mystery draws blades."
Viren stared up at her.
And something—beneath skin, bone, and spirit—began to stir.
Not enough to burst through.
But enough to burn quietly.
Waiting.