Asteria The seven Relics

bled c

the sleeping capital. Servants hurried through marble corridors with lamps shaking in their hands. Physicians ran, robes flapping, toward the roya

joy and fear walked in

f the birthing chamber. King Alaric stood outside them, ha

man with tired eyes and a staff he no lo

"I will stand until my qu

nce, toward the corridor that led down, down, past the dungeons, p

ust a quiet rain beneath a crimson moon, as

ian. Each seat bore a symbol worn smooth by centuries of hands: a crown, a sword, a feather, a flame, a scale, a moon. One final

leaning on a silver staff far

red," he said. "The C

d, quietly, "Is the prop

is eyes. "There is n

d over the cha

, a baby's cry echoed down t

figures went rigi

ry followe

rly still. The prophe

second

ound the table, overl

ossi

ecy never

ll silent instantly. The unseen figure spoke the way a man s

as never incomp

wered his head

are t

that table

e royal physician lifted the fir

for a moment his exhaustion

ild despite the sweat still cli

d cry cut through the room. Every servant froze mid-motion,

ned. Another infa

did not

e king, who had shouldered through the doors the instant

hysician's voice shoo

eat, nothing moved

e laughed - weak, disbelieving, radiant.

iny hand in turn, as if he needed to confi

e word. "I swear it - no matter what

nt, the easiest prom

et how quickly it

re Alaric had gone to steady himself. The old minister's face had lo

you must know, and there is v

is is not

, and I have never told you, because I prayed I would never have to." He drew a shaking breath. "There is a prophecy, my king. Of a divided line - one child t

"You are asking me t

ther of them will live to see their first birthday. I am asking you to let one of them live unknown, so that both of them ma

a long moment. Outside

y. "It has to be before sunrise, o

mber, the old prophet whispered, "The

d only one question. "

ated. "It has nev

wer

ded like a verdict. "B

een figure rose from the thro

ill remember on

know existed. A cloaked figure hurried through the dark, clutching a sleeping infant against their chest. Beneath the hood, only Voss himself would have recog

. She did not cry. She only gazed upward, eyes open, as if

mson moon slipped

ght found its way into the tunnel, and for a mo

voice breaking. "This is the

anket. Then she walked on, and

en before breakfast. Bells rang until noon. History began recording the birth of a future queen - and, quietly, the death of a minister's for

slept in the arms of a stranger who had not pl

her. No bells an

tness - and one old woman's promise that, someday, when

risen, one princess had b

had become

ike a rumor, can