The twins had turned five.
In the Kingdom of Vornis, the age of five carried deep significance for noble children. It marked their formal introduction to society—a rite of passage where young heirs stepped into the public eye for the first time. For royal children, the tradition swelled into something far grander: a Debutante Ball held in the palace itself, attended by the kingdom's most powerful figures.
Yet for Aster and Astra Wynfall, children of the king's only commoner concubine, the event carried an extra layer of scrutiny. Tonight, the nation would finally see the twins who had shattered centuries of royal tradition by awakening not to fire, but to the long-forgotten Sound Magic.
The Wynfall Mansion shimmered under the evening sky, its windows aglow with floating lanterns of silver-blue light. Elegant carriages lined the winding drive, their wheels crunching softly on gravel as nobles from every corner of Vornis arrived in gowns and tunics heavy with jewels and embroidery. Curiosity hummed in the air like unspoken mana.
Whispers drifted through the grand hall long before the children appeared.
"Have you heard? They truly possess no fire at all."
"White-haired, like Lady Arlienne. They say the girl sings like an angel."
"Sound Magic… I thought it died out generations ago."
"Can such children truly serve the kingdom?"
"Still, the king himself will present them. We must see for ourselves."
Then the great doors swung open.
Silence blanketed the hall.
Two small figures entered hand in hand.
Aster and Astra Wynfall.
They wore matching garments of purest white, embroidered with delicate threads of gold that caught the light like captured starlight. Their long white hair gleamed, framing faces that seemed almost ethereal. Silver eyes—rare, crystalline, and identical—swept the room with quiet confidence.
They did not appear fragile or diminished.
They looked radiant.
Even the most composed nobles felt their breath catch. The twins moved with poise far beyond their years, guided by their mother, Lady Arlienne, who walked between them in a gown of midnight blue that made her seem like moonlight given form. Yet her hands trembled faintly at her sides.
Tonight, her children would reveal themselves to the world.
And she had no idea what they intended.
***
One year earlier, when Aster was four, he had stumbled upon a revelation that changed everything.
He could create sound—not merely sing, but conjure music from nothing.
By weaving mana into precise vibrations, he shaped melodies out of thin air: soft strings, chiming bells, layered harmonies that floated like mist. It was as though the memories of Earth's music had fused with his new magic, granting him the ability to compose without instruments.
The first attempt had nearly killed him.
Mana drained in a dizzying rush, leaving him collapsed on the nursery floor. Astra had screamed, tears streaming as she shook his shoulders. Their mother had rushed in, pale with terror.
But Aster refused to stop.
He practiced in secret—small bursts at first, then longer phrases. He learned control, efficiency, the delicate balance of mana flow. By his fifth birthday, he could sustain one complete song before exhaustion claimed him.
And into that single song, he poured everything: memories of two lives, love for his new family, and the melodies that had once been his salvation on Earth.
The piece he chose was hauntingly beautiful—a reimagining of a song called "Ordinary." He rewrote every lyric, transforming it into a tribute to Arlienne.
A song about the miracle of her love.
About the warmth that had healed the wounds of his first life.
About the light she had given two lost souls reborn.
He taught Astra note by note, breath by breath. Her voice—clear, pure, effortlessly high—blended with his in perfect twin harmony. They practiced until their voices became one.
Tonight, they would unveil it to the world.
***
The formal presentation unfolded with stately precision.
King Valor Wynfall—tall, imposing, his crimson cloak emblazoned with the royal flame—stepped onto the dais. His voice carried easily over the assembled crowd.
"Today," he declared, "I present to the Kingdom of Vornis my youngest children: Astra Wynfall and Aster Wynfall. May the Light of Lumina guide their paths and strengthen our realm."
Polite applause rippled through the hall.
Then the king paused, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his features.
"The children," he added, "have prepared a performance."
A hush fell, deeper than before.
Performance?
Confused glances darted among the nobles.
"A magic demonstration, perhaps?"
"Sound Magic can hardly be called a demonstration."
"What could mere children possibly—"
Aster and Astra stepped forward alone.
Arlienne's eyes widened in alarm—she had known nothing of this. Even the king's brow furrowed; this had not been discussed. Their half-siblings watched from the royal platform, expressions ranging from curiosity to concern.
Aster drew a slow, steady breath.
Astra mirrored him, squeezing his hand.
"Ready?" he whispered.
"Always," she whispered back.
Then the music began.
A gentle melody blossomed from empty air—soft strings plucking delicate notes, distant bells chiming in counterpoint, a warm undercurrent of harmony woven by Aster's mana. It filled the vast hall like sunrise spilling through windows.
Gasps rose in waves.
"That sound—it's coming from nowhere!"
"This isn't simple voice magic… this is structured music!"
"Sound Magic can do this?"
"I've never heard anything so beautiful…"
And then the twins sang.
Their voices rose together—Aster's surprisingly rich and steady for his age, Astra's bright and crystalline—intertwining in a duet that felt ancient and new all at once.
The lyrics, carried on waves of pure emotion, drifted through the hall:
"Blessed are we,
For love found us twice—
In the warmth of her arms,
In the light of her eyes.
Mother, our star,
Guiding night into dawn—
In this life you gave us,
We learn how to belong.
Through every shadow,
Your voice called us home;
In your gentle embrace,
We are never alone."
Aster sang with the weight of two lifetimes: regret from the first, gratitude for the second. Astra sang with the unfiltered adoration of a child who had known only love.
Their combined magic pulsed outward—visible ripples in the air, mana resonating like strings plucked in every listener's chest.
Nobles stood frozen.
Seasoned mages felt tears rise unbidden.
Servants in the shadows wept openly.
No spell of fire or wind had ever touched hearts this way.
Lady Arlienne pressed both hands to her mouth, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.
The king stared, regal mask shattered by wonder.
Even stern Prince Leon's eyes glistened.
As the final harmony lingered and gently faded, silence reigned—absolute, reverent.
Then thunderous applause erupted.
Nobles rose to their feet as one, clapping until hands reddened. Cheers echoed off marble walls. Some shouted the twins' names. Others simply stood in stunned ovation.
"A masterpiece!"
"Is this truly the forgotten magic?"
"It moves the soul in ways fire never could…"
"These children… they are extraordinary."
Arlienne rushed forward, kneeling to envelop both twins in a fierce embrace, sobbing into their hair.
"My precious ones… that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. You… you sang for me?"
Aster nodded against her shoulder. "Happy early birthday, Mama."
Astra giggled through happy tears. "We love you."
The king approached slowly, as though waking from a dream.
"Aster. Astra." His voice was rough with emotion. "Your gift… this is not weakness. This is something Vornis has never known."
Aster looked up, silver eyes steady. "Sound Magic can be strong too, Father. In its own way."
The king could only nod, speechless.
The hall remained electric with emotion long after the final guests departed. Where skepticism had once lingered, only awe remained.
The debutante ball intended to introduce two unusual royal children had, instead, introduced legends.
As Aster held Astra's hand amid the fading cheers, a quiet certainty settled in his heart.
This was only the beginning.
Together, they would awaken music in a world that had forgotten its power.
Together, they would rise.
Together, they would become the greatest singers Vornis had ever known.
************
The Unforgettable Night
As the final notes dissolved into memory, Aster and Astra broke away from the dais and ran straight into their mother's waiting arms. Arlienne dropped to her knees, gathering them close as if she could shield them forever.
"You were magnificent," she whispered, voice trembling. "I have never been prouder in my life."
Princess Seraphine hurried over, eyes sparkling. "You two were absolutely enchanting! Astra, your voice is like liquid diamond—and Aster, you sounded so commanding for such a little thing!"
Even Crown Prince Leon approached, offering the rarest of gifts: a small, genuine smile. "You represented the family well. Exceptionally well."
Praise from Leon was currency rarer than gold.
The nobles departed in waves, still buzzing with excitement. Many lingered to offer personal congratulations, eyes bright with newfound respect. The king left last, his expression complex—pride warring with something deeper, perhaps regret for the distance he had maintained.
One truth rang clear: the kingdom would speak of this night for years.
***
The impact rippled outward the moment the family returned to the mansion.
Magical newspapers unfurled themselves in homes across Vornis, headlines blazing in shifting script:
"Royal Twins Deliver Performance of Divine Beauty!"
"Sound Magic Reborn: A New Dawn for the Forgotten Art?"
"Prince Aster and Princess Astra Move Nation to Tears"
"Has the Royal Bloodline Found a Power Greater Than Fire?"
Mana-crystal broadcasters replayed faint echoes of the song late into the night. Gossip scrolls circulated among taverns and tea houses, carrying whispered accounts that grew more wondrous with each telling.
For the first time in recorded history, true music—structured, emotional, layered—had shaken the kingdom to its core.
And Aster knew, with quiet certainty, that this was merely the opening chord.
***
In the years that followed, Aster devoted himself to exploration.
He drew on half-remembered physics from Earth: frequencies, resonance, wave manipulation, harmonics. If Sound Magic could birth melodies from nothing, what else might it achieve?
He experimented relentlessly, always carefully, always with Astra at his side.
- Resonance techniques: vibrating objects at precise frequencies to strengthen or shatter them.
- Directional projection: focusing sound like a blade or a whisper across vast distances.
- Emotional infusion: channeling feeling into voice to amplify magical effects—healing with calm, inspiring courage with joy, sowing unease with sorrow.
- Harmonic layering: weaving multiple sound waves for complex illusions or barriers.
Astra's progress matched his, sometimes surpassed it. Her control over pitch and purity was instinctive, effortless.
Under their mother's gentle guidance on vocal technique and emotional truth, the twins advanced at a pace that would have stunned any traditional mage.
Years flowed like a swelling symphony.
***
Now, Aster and Astra were seven years old.
Today carried layered meaning.
It was the Queen's birthday—a national celebration marked by a lavish ball in the royal palace, attended by every noble of note, foreign dignitaries, and the kingdom's most influential figures.
It was also Arlienne's birthday.
The woman the queen loathed.
Each year, the palace glittered with grandeur while Arlienne remained uninvited, erased from the official narrative. The twins had always marked the day quietly at home: simple decorations, a cake baked together, gifts crafted by small hands.
This year, Arlienne had already laid out tea and delicate pastries in the sunlit parlor, humming softly as she arranged flowers.
But Aster had other plans.
He stood at the window, gazing toward the distant palace spires aglow with thousands of lights. His silver eyes burned with resolve.
Mother deserves more than shadows.
She deserves to shine.
The palace would be packed tonight—nobles, media crystals hovering to capture every moment, the queen radiant at the center of adoration.
While Arlienne stayed hidden.
Overlooked.
Forgotten.
Not this year.
Aster turned to Astra, who was carefully brushing her long white hair at the vanity.
"Astra," he said quietly.
She met his gaze in the mirror. "Hmm?"
"We're changing tonight's plan."
She paused mid-stroke. "But Mama already prepared everything…"
"I know." He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Don't you think she deserves better than another year of pretending the queen's day isn't also hers?"
Astra's eyes widened. "Aster… you're not saying—"
He smiled.
Not a gentle smile.
A determined, mischievous one.
"The queen has her celebration," he said softly. "But today belongs to Mama too. And we're going to make sure the entire kingdom remembers who the true light is."
Astra gasped, brush clattering to the table. "We're going to the palace?!"
"Not exactly." Aster shook his head. "We're not crashing the ball."
Astra exhaled in relief—
"We're performing at it."
Her breath caught again.
"We're WHAT?!"
Aster crossed his arms, confidence radiating from his small frame. "This year, no one will forget that today is Lady Arlienne's birthday. We'll make sure every soul in that hall—and beyond—knows who the real star of this day is."
Astra stared, stunned.
Then a slow, brilliant smile spread across her face.
"You're… incredible," she whispered.
Aster's smirk widened. "I know."
"But how?" she asked, excitement overtaking worry. "Security is impossible. We can't just walk in."
Aster turned back to the window, palace lights reflecting in his eyes like distant stars.
"I've been preparing for two years," he said quietly. "A new technique. A song no one can ignore. A way to reach them without ever stepping through the gates."
He had combined everything he learned: projection, resonance, emotional amplification, harmonic reach.
A magic this world had never witnessed.
A performance that would carry across distance on waves of pure sound.
Born from the memories of Raze—the failed dreamer reborn to redefine music itself.
"Tonight," Aster whispered, voice steady with purpose, "we give Mama the birthday she deserves."
Far across the city, the queen's grand celebration continued in blissful ignorance—music from traditional elemental mages filling the halls, laughter echoing beneath crystal chandeliers.
Completely unaware that two seven-year-old twins were about to steal the entire night.
And rewrite the kingdom's song forever.