"You only turn four once. But when you do it right, people will talk about it forever."— Serena van der Woodsen, shortly before Caelum's birthday gala
1. Preparations: Manhattan Holds Its Breath
Caelum Virelion's fourth birthday wasn't an event.
It was an affair.
The kind of glittering, whispered-about phenomenon that made front-page headlines on fashion blogs and was mentioned in passing by CEOs and duchesses as if it were a royal wedding.
By age four, Caelum had:
Received handwritten letters from the children of European monarchs.
Been featured (anonymously) in a New York Times piece titled "The Rise of the Under-Five Oligarchy."
Been the subject of five Gossip Girl posts, each one spicier than the last.
The city wasn't just watching.
It was waiting.
System Alert:"System Function Unlocked: Ritual Narrative Constructor""You may now anchor mythic identity using high-impact public events. Optional: 'Birthday Coronation Framework' enabled."
Caelum sat cross-legged in his reading salon—a room most adults would kill to enter—studying a projected mock-up of his own gala. Around him, Lyra managed an army of invisible assistants.
"Theme, Caelum?""A fusion of 'Post-Imperial Versailles' and 'Decadent Futurism.' Blend Rococo with AI aesthetics. I want marble and moonlight.""Guestlist?""No more than 300. Any more dilutes exclusivity. Prioritize legacy bloodlines, media dynasties, and elite second-gen tech heirs. Sprinkle in five scandal-prone influencers for flavor.""Venue?""The Cloisters. And convert the upper garden into a celestial observatory."
Lyra processed it all in 1.2 seconds.
"Confirmed. Target impression level: Mythic Aristocracy Reborn. Estimated public resonance: 97.4% awe, 2.6% threat perception.""Good," Caelum said, standing and adjusting his velvet-lined Dior coat. "Let them feel both."
2. Arrival: The Fall of Heaven Into Harlem
The day arrived.
A convoy of Rolls-Royces and vintage Bentleys rumbled through Harlem to the north end of Manhattan. Helicopters hovered discreetly. Drones captured aerial footage, edited in real-time by Lyra's subroutine.
Gossip Girl's feed exploded.
"Upper Manhattan's been invaded by diamond-laced children, heiresses dressed like queens, and a boy with eyes like glaciers. Caelum Virelion's fourth birthday? More like a coronation. And guess what? No clowns. Only live harpists in black velvet tuxedos."—xoxo, Gossip Girl
3. Inside the Gala: The World Tilted
The Cloisters had been transformed.
The indoor garden now glowed with artificial moonlight, scattered with petals infused with faint golden dust.
A holographic aurora flickered above the feast hall, simulating the Northern Lights.
Classical violinists played renditions of Beyoncé, Ryuichi Sakamoto, and The Godfather Theme in a medley Caelum arranged himself.
The guests arrived in stunned silence.
Even Blair Waldorf paused at the threshold, momentarily unsure whether to laugh or curtsy.
Serena found Caelum standing beneath a rose-draped archway, wearing a dark plum velvet suit, golden embroidery traced like vines along the cuffs.
"You look like a prince," she murmured.
"I look like who I need to be tonight," Caelum replied, kissing her hand lightly. "But thank you."
4. The Power Play: His First Political Move
At precisely 7:00 PM, Caelum ascended the marble dais at the center of the hall. The crowd hushed.
"I'd like to thank you all for coming," he began.
The microphone lowered itself to his height.
"I know people don't expect someone like me to speak very often. Or to matter this early."
Laughter. Nervous, unsure.
"But let me be clear—this city doesn't run on votes or age. It runs on narratives."
He paused. Held their gaze.
"And right now, I am writing mine."
He stepped down to applause. Blair leaned to Serena. "He scares me."
Serena smiled. "That's why I like him."
System Notice:"Public Perception Shift Achieved: You are now considered a 'Cultural Phenomenon' by 61% of elite networks.""Trait Unlocked: 'Myth-Weaver – Level 1.' You now gain increased influence through ritual, symbol, and spectacle."
5. The Shadow at the Gala
But not all was celebration.
Caelum noticed her at once.
A girl—six years old, maybe seven—dressed in shadow-blue silk, standing alone by a Greco-Roman sculpture. Her eyes didn't scan the room. They analyzed it.
"Lyra," Caelum whispered. "Profile her."
"Unknown. Name: Elara Vale. No social media footprint. No digital school records. Estimated IQ: 162. Wealth source: Unknown offshore trust.""She's not here for cake," Caelum said."Correct. Probability she was inserted by a counter-entity: 81.2%."
He approached.
"Enjoying the party?" he asked.
"It's not a party," she said, sipping something that looked suspiciously like a miniature martini glass of elderflower soda. "It's a statement."
"And what statement do you hear?"
"That the boy everyone whispers about isn't just real. He's... dangerous."
Caelum offered her a hand.
"Then maybe we're alike."
Elara didn't take it. But she nodded once.
The first alliance—or rivalry—had just begun.
6. Post-Gala: The Crown Settles
Later that night, as the last guest departed, Caelum stood alone under the aurora simulation. He watched it flicker, not quite real—but more beautiful than anything nature had offered that week.
He whispered softly:
"System. Log my first ritual.""Name it.""The Night I Became King."
Gossip Girl Post #6"So, did the boy make a wish? Or did he become the wish itself? Manhattan's youngest monarch threw a gala so mesmerizing, even the stars blinked twice. And I have it on good authority—he didn't wish for toys. He wished for a throne.And maybe… just maybe… he's already sitting on it.xoxo, Gossip Girl"