A few days later, I learned something new.
Not through whispers this time, nor careless gossip exchanged between servants.
But through preparation.
My chambers changed.
Silks replaced linens. Gold-threaded curtains were drawn and redrawn until their folds fell just right. Servants moved with a different kind of precision careful, reverent. Every touch lingered longer than usual, as if even handling me required restraint.
Something important was coming.
"She'll be presented soon."
"The naming ceremony is finally being held."
"The stars have been consulted. Everything aligns."
Naming ceremony.
The words settled heavily in my mind.
In my past life, a name had been little more than an identifier. Something printed on documents, spoken aloud for attendance, shouted across crowded streets. Here, it was different. I could hear it in their voices.
A name carried weight.
Power.
Fate.
"This ceremony will bind her," one attendant murmured while adjusting my garments. "Her name will be recognized by the world itself."
Bind.
That single word made my chest tighten.
I listened more carefully after that.
The naming ceremony was not held immediately after birth in this world. It was delayed until the child survived the fragile first weeks of life until the soul was believed to have fully anchored to the body.
Only then was a name bestowed.
Only then was existence acknowledged.
And only then could destiny begin.
The ceremony would take place at a temple.
The Temple of Origins. The one where the Five Equals once swore their oaths.
That made my thoughts stutter.
Five Equals.
My grandfather had been one of them.
Vaelor Morvaelis.
The name alone carried legend. Even whispered, it commanded respect.
I had not seen him yet.
Nor my grandmother.
But everyone spoke of them with the same careful reverence reserved for forces of nature.
"Their Majesties will attend personally."
"The Emperor insisted."
"Of course he did. It's their granddaughter."
No outsiders would be present. No nobles or court officials. Only family.
As if whatever was about to happen was not meant for the world to witness.
That thought unsettled me more than anything else.
On the morning of the ceremony, I was dressed in white.
Pure, unadorned fabric, soft against my skin. No jewels. No embroidery. Nothing that marked me as imperial.
Just a child. A soul.
My mother held me herself as we departed. No attendants touched me once we crossed the palace gates.
The carriage ride was quiet.
My father sat across from her, his posture rigid, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Kael sat beside him, unusually subdued, hands folded in his lap.
Even he seemed to understand this wasn't a day for chatter.
I tried to open my eyes.
Light filtered in through the carriage windows, diffused and pale. The city passed unseen, but I felt the distance the shift from marble streets to stone, from noise to silence.
The air changed.
Cooler.
Older.
When the carriage finally stopped, the world felt… heavier.
As if something vast was pressing down from above.
I was carried into the temple.
Even without sight, I could feel it.
Ancient.
Powerful.
The air thrummed faintly, like a held breath that had never been released.
Stone pillars rose high overhead. The scent of incense mingled with something sharper magic, perhaps. Not active, not aggressive, but watching.
Waiting.
Then a presence. Two, to be precise.
The moment we stepped forward, the pressure shifted.
"Seraphyne."
A voice spoke my mother's name, calm and steady.
I felt her still.
"Father."
Another voice followed, softer but no less commanding.
"Mother."
I didn't need to see them to know.
Vaelor Vaelthorn Morvaelis.
Elyndra Elaris Morvaelis.
My grandparents.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then my father inclined his head, formal yet precise. "Father. Mother."
Elyndra's expression softened, just barely. "It has been too long, son."
Vaelor studied my father in silence, his sharp gaze sweeping over him as if measuring the years that had passed since they last stood together like this.
"You carry the empire well," he said at last.
"And its burdens." my father replied calmly.
A faint smile touched his lips approval, restrained and rare.
My father stepped forward. "It is an honor to welcome you both," he said, voice respectful but steady. "The palace has missed your presence."
"Courts do not miss us" Elyndra replied dryly. "Only crises do."
Kael shifted beside them, suddenly aware of himself. "Grandfather," he said, bowing quickly. "Grandmother."
Elyndra's gaze flicked to him, amusement glinting briefly in her eyes. "You've grown," she said. "And still restless, I see."
Vaelor gave a short hum of agreement. "The blood remains unchanged."
The moment passed as quickly as it had formed, formality settling back into place but the air between them remained thick with unspoken history.
Then Vaelor's attention returned to me.
She leaned close, her attention settling on me fully.
"So this is her," she said quietly.
I felt her gaze like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Her soul is… interesting," Vaelor murmured.
My breath hitched.
He could tell.
Of course he could.
The Five Equals hadn't been ordinary. They had shaped eras. Warped the course of history itself.
If anyone could sense something wrong.
Something different.
It would be them.
"She is anchored," Elyndra said after a moment. "Firmly."
My mother exhaled softly.
"And her name?" my father asked.
The world seemed to hold still as Vaelor reached out. His hand hovered above me, not touching, yet I felt a pull like something inside me stirred in response.
Recognition. Expectation.
"A name is not chosen lightly," he said. "It is a promise."
His voice lowered.
"To the world."
"To fate."
"And to the soul that bears it."
My heart pounded.
I didn't know what name they would give me.
But I knew deep in my bones that whatever it was, it would shape everything.
Past. Present. Future.
Elyndra smiled faintly.
"Let us see," she said softly, "what the world chooses to call you."
Mana stirred beneath the temple floor ancient, patient, awake.
Then Vaelor spoke.
"Eclipsa."