A man with black hair walked quickly through the castle halls. His steps echoed off the stone, and three people struggled to keep up - two guards in armor and one man without it, looking more like a butler than anything else.
"Milord, Lady Evelina. she should have finished already," the butler, Hains, said, slightly out of breath. "I came as soon as I heard."
"Good. I need to be there" Lianndr replied. His voice sounded calm, but there was a tightness in it. He was worried, whether he admitted it or not.
Even if this wasn't his first child, moments like these still meant something.
When they reached the door, a loud baby's cry came from inside.
Lianndr didn't wait. He pushed the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
The room was bright, almost glowing from the sunlight. Evelina lay on the bed, tired, skin shining with sweat, but still beautiful in that soft, natural way.
On her arms - a tiny bundle wrapped in cloth.
The servants bowed.
"Milord."
Lianndr barely noticed. His eyes went straight to the child.
A newborn. Small. Fragile. With hair that looked almost silver.
"Evelina..." he said quietly.
"You made it," she whispered with a small, exhausted smile. "It's a boy. Our son."
She passed the baby into his hands.
And the moment Lianndr held him, the crying stopped.
The tiny eyes slowly opened.
Purple eyes.
Strange.
Unusual.
But somehow... fitting.
Lianndr blinked, confused for a short moment. No one in his or Evelina's family ever had such eyes.
Yet he felt the truth instantly.
The child was his.
He could sense it - the blood of Arkwil flowing inside him.
"My son..." he breathed out quietly.
The baby wrapped his tiny fingers around Lianndr's thumb. And in that moment, Lianndr noticed something else - a few strands of black hair mixed with the silver.
He took a slow breath.
"Erindor," he said firmly.
Everyone in the room looked at him.
Lianndr lifted the baby slightly.
"Erindor Arkwil. The third son of our house."
POV: Third Person
A little boy sat at the table, chewing his breakfast like he was offended by it. Evelina sat across from him, smiling softly as she tried to feed him with a wooden spoon.
Next to her stood a maid, Lina, hands folded neatly, watching.
The boy wasn't enjoying the porridge. He reached for the spoon, and it slipped out of his hand, splashing onto Evelina's dress.
"Oh!" she gasped.
The boy froze immediately - as if he understood he messed up.
"Milady, would you like me to feed him?" Lina asked gently.
"No, it's fine," Evelina said, laughing a little. "I enjoy feeding this little troublemaker myself."
Lina couldn't help smiling.
Young Master Erindor... she could already tell he wouldn't be easy to raise.
POV: Erindor (Theo)
Another spoon of mush.
Great.
I wasn't angry anymore - just thinking.
A year had passed since I ended up here.
A whole year since I died.
And what had I been doing?
Sleeping, eating, trying to understand this confusing language.
Honestly... not the most exciting life.
But one thing became clear fast:
This world wasn't Earth.
It looked medieval on the surface, but it was cleaner, more organized, almost too tidy.
No technology... but magic instead.
Real magic.
The maids used it casually. One cooled my food with a small wave of her hand, creating a breeze. Another used wind to open the curtains.
Nothing flashy - but definitely magic.
Also, yeah... I had personal maids.
Big clue that I was born into an important family.
I looked up.
The spoon wasn't moving anymore.
Evelina - my mother - stood up and came to me. She lifted me gently.
Strange how comforting her warmth felt.
Maybe this tiny body reacted more strongly than my mind wanted to admit.
"Erin," she whispered. "You'll grow up handsome. I'm sure girls will chase after you."
If only I could tell her that right now I cared more about learning the damn language than girls...
But all that came out was a small, pathetic noise.
My eyelids got heavy.
I tried to stay awake - there was so much to think about, so much to figure out...
But the baby body won again.
I drifted into sleep, warm and safe in her arms.