Outside the ancient Sanctum of Sylvariel, where the rulers of Luneth were gathering in cloaks of power and pride, four children wandered into a sun-dappled grove just beyond the temple gates.
The trees here were lighter—silver-barked, their leaves falling like feathers. A soft stream curved between roots like a whispered lullaby. The wind, though chilled, carried no tension.
It was here, beneath the ever-shifting skies of Zephyra, that the divine heirs met for the first time—not as prophecy, but as children.
Lilith Zephyrion arrived first, led by a breeze only she could hear. Her crown of tangled curls bounced as she stepped barefoot into the clearing, arms outstretched, spinning slowly.
"This place is listening," she said to no one.
Then came Thalassia Indoria, robes damp from morning mist, her steps careful and quiet. She watched Lilith's twirl with the kind of curiosity reserved for dolphins and thunderstorms.
"You talk like the sea," Thalassia said softly.
Lilith grinned. "The sea doesn't talk. It sighs."
"Oh." Thalassia considered this deeply. "That's true."
Kai Orithia Pyrian stomped in next, boots scuffed, hands on her hips. She squinted up at the canopy, unimpressed.
"I thought this was a royal meeting. Where's the castle? Where are the guards?" She pointed at a fallen branch. "This is just a fancy forest."
"It's a sacred grove," Lilith corrected, still spinning.
"It's muddy," Kai muttered.
"Then take your boots off," Thalassia offered.
"And get pricked by goddess-knows-what? No thanks."
They all turned when Liceriana Lucerion arrived—calm, serene, hands folded before her like she had been born to carry wisdom. Her golden-blond hair fell in ribbons down her back, her eyes quiet but observing everything.
She gave a small bow. "Peace be upon you."
Kai blinked. "Why are you talking like my grandfather?"
"Because she's a saintess," Lilith whispered.
"She's our age!"
"Still a saintess," Thalassia murmured, eyes wide.
Liceriana only smiled, then slowly sat on a low stone near the stream. "I heard the winds singing this morning," she said. "They sounded... uncertain."
Lilith tilted her head. "Mine sounded sad."
For a moment, none of them spoke.
They were young—just five summers old, maybe six—but in their silence, there was something heavy lingering. Something even they, born of goddesses, could not name.
Then came a sound.
Soft. Wet. Sniffling.
They turned.
Another sound: a hiccup. A small whimper.
The four girls tiptoed through the grove, following the trail of sniffles past the trees until they reached a curved root near the base of a hollowed tree.
There, curled into a blanket with a little golden brooch, sat a boy. His eyes were red. His cheeks puffy. He clutched a plush deer like a lifeline.
"Um," Kai said, tilting her head. "Who... are you?"
The boy blinked at them—and then let out a full sob.
"I-I'm not supposed to be h-here! Mama said I shouldn't f-follow but I did and I couldn't f-find anyone and now she's... she's gone...!"
The girls froze.
"Oh no," Thalassia said gently.
"He's leaking," Kai muttered.
"He's hurting," Liceriana corrected.
"He's loud," Lilith whispered, crouching beside him.
Liceriana joined her. "What's your name?"
The boy wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. "E-Etherion."
The four girls exchanged a glance.
"Wait," said Kai. "The crown prince?"
He nodded, still hiccuping. "M-Mama didn't come back."
Lilith placed a flower in his lap without a word. Thalassia knelt and offered him her sleeve—clean, warm, and linen-soft.
"It's alright," Liceriana said, voice soft as morning. "You're not alone."
Kai stared for a moment, then nudged the plush deer with one finger.
"This yours?"
He nodded.
"Okay," she said. "Then no one's allowed to take it."
Etherion looked up at them, lip still quivering—but his breathing slowed.
And in that hidden grove just beyond the eyes of power and prophecy, five children sat together, strangers only by name, bound by something older than their thrones.
None of them yet knew of the child still sealed in silence.
But they would.