Carol Graves was a simple woman — warm smile, calm eyes. Thirty years old, blonde hair with black tips, and eyes dark as night. Everyone in the Saint Deux district knew her. She had been a shoemaker, an apothecary, a cook, a teacher. She cared for other people's children as if they were her own.And now, everyone spoke about her pregnancy.
Her husband had abandoned her the moment he learned the news, and Carol had wandered through Lirium alone until she found a home in that quiet neighborhood. No one asked about her past. She never spoke of it.
"Hi, Carol," greeted Vivian, the local schoolteacher. "How's the pregnancy going? No complications, I hope?""No, Vivi, nothing. I'm… ugh…" A contraction made her bend slightly, though she smiled through the pain. "I'm fine, haha.""Oh, Carol," Vivian sighed in concern. "I told you I could handle the kids myself. You shouldn't have come. A woman has to take care of herself — especially if she might be carrying a Novalyth."
Both laughed. No one could know whether her child would be born with the Elyth or not. The gift awakened without warning. But if the baby was Carol's… everyone suspected he would not be ordinary.
Later that afternoon, on her way home, Carol passed through the market. Between the voices, the spices, and the smell of fresh meat, Max the butcher called out to her."Mrs. Graves! I saved your usual order!" he said, lifting a bag with four slices of beef."Thank you, Max. Always so thoughtful. How's your family?""Doing great. My kids already call you 'Auntie.' They love you, you know. We'll always lend you a hand, Carol — you've done the same for all of us."
She smiled, waved goodbye, and continued on her way.
Back home, she showered and lay down on her bed. Her hand caressed her belly as she thought about how strange it was — her pregnancy was nothing like any other. What in other women lasted nine months had lasted a century and a half for her, a truth no one would ever know.
Carol didn't belong to the seventh or even the sixth generation, as her apparent age suggested. She was of the second. In her time, people didn't call it Elyth — they called it the disease. And hers was complete immortality: nothing could kill her.
At first, the pregnancy had been normal — cravings, mood swings, contractions. Then everything had gone still. Her belly didn't begin to show until thirty years ago. She had hidden from every census under false names and ages. Only when she knew, instinctively, that her child was finally near, did she settle in Saint Deux — the neighborhood of her childhood. A place that no longer remembered her.
From her nightstand, she took a worn leather notebook. Its yellowed pages preserved her past: her friends, the man who had been her great love, battles against the Calamyr, and memories of exploring ninety percent of the continent. Everything that had shaped her.
As she read her memories, sleep began to claim her. Before closing her eyes, she stroked her belly and whispered to her son:"I know you'll do great things, my dear. Your father… sadly, he won't see the man you'll become. But I'm sure he'd be proud. You'll suffer in this cruel world, cry more than once, tremble in fear, laugh and share your joy. You are — and will always be — the best thing that's ever happened to me. Thank you… for letting me be your mother."
With those words, Carol drifted into deep sleep. In her mind, one truth remained clear: as long as the Alhazen ruled Lirium, her child's future would be uncertain.But she would do anything to protect him.