Third Person POV

  Everything he’d told Novius—every word, every step—came spilling out again as Elowen listened with the sharp attentiveness of someone who could spot a missing breath.

  "You did that... with a [Fireball]?" Elowen asked slowly, her voice hovering somewhere between disbelief and concern.

  Aric rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah… I’ve been working on it.”

  Elowen, still processing, tilted her head. “Did… you read about it somewhere?”

  “About [Fireball]?” Aric echoed.

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “No. I just… figured it out.”

  That answer clearly didn’t sit right with her. Her silence was louder than any question.

  So Aric sighed and began expining—briefly but honestly—how he’d yered and spun the mana, condensed it over time, and stabilized it before the release.

  As he spoke, the silence in the corridor deepened. Eirlys and Lily had gone still, and Elowen was frozen in pce, staring at him like she wasn’t quite sure whether to be amazed or worried.

  When he finished, Elowen leaned forward slightly. Her gaze was sharp.

  “Aric…” she said in a low, steady voice, “what you just shared… never repeat it. Not to anyone. No one. Unless they’re someone we trust with our lives.”

  Aric looked into her eyes, nodded once, and didn’t say a word.

  Because he understood.

  Whatever he had just revealed—whatever it meant—it wasn’t ordinary.

  “Young master!”

  The sudden, eager voice pulled Aric from his thoughts. Of all people, it was Lily.

  “Can you show me how you do it?” she asked, eyes sparkling so brightly he could practically hear the twinkle.

  Aric blinked. She looked more like a child than he did. He hesitated, but figured the fastest way to move on was to show her just enough to get it out of her system.

  With a cautious gnce toward Elowen and Eirlys, he lifted his hand and summoned a swirl of fme.

  Mana surged, gathering in his palm as fmes condensed, spinning into a tight, glowing ball.

  “Oooh~” Lily leaned in, completely unbothered by the intense heat radiating off it. She reached forward with a delighted gasp, fingers inches away.

  Aric quickly dispelled it with a snap of his fingers. The fireball vanished just before she could make contact.

  “Awwww,” Lily groaned dramatically, pulling her hand back like a scolded cat. “But I wanted to touch…”

  “No chance,” Aric deadpanned. “I don’t want another explosion right beside me.”

  Lily puffed out her cheeks, still clearly debating whether the risk might be worth it.

  Aric was about to roll his eyes when he noticed something more arming—Elowen and Eirlys, who had been quietly watching, now looked decidedly… pale.

  “Al…” Elowen’s voice was calm, but strained. “And you’re saying… You can add more mana into that?”

  Aric nodded slowly, suddenly unsure if that was the right answer.

  ‘Could’ve told me this wasn’t normal,’ he muttered inwardly.

  [Well, I did say to keep your training a secret for a reason…] Boon replied.

  “Granny, how did none of you hear the explosion?” Aric asked, half out of curiosity, half trying to distract himself.

  “Oh, that?” Elowen replied casually, “It’s because of the barrier. We were lucky both of them had stepped out of the ward, and those intruders were weak.”

  “Huh? I thought you could still hear sounds from outside the barrier?”

  Elowen shook her head with a faint smile. “Only when it’s made using incantation. Magic circles behave differently. Some spells have little quirks like that.”

  Aric’s eyes lit up. He wanted to learn what other spells have this quirk—until the soft hiss of the sliding door interrupted him.

  The nurses began filing out, one of them pushing a cart full of used surgical tools. Behind them walked Aurelia, sleeves rolled and gloves off, looking like she had somewhere else to be entirely.

  She turned the opposite way from the nurses and walked straight into Aric.

  “Gah—!” Aric staggered back, blinking up.

  Aurelia, startled, grabbed his shoulder instinctively to steady him. For a second, the two just stared at each other.

  Then, without a word, Aurelia squinted, grabbed the hem of all his warmers at once, and yanked them up.

  She examined his abdomen. “All healed up. Quicker than I thought,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

  Then she dropped his warmers and gave his head a gentle boop with her knuckle before turning away.

  Aric stood there adjusting his clothes.

  Meanwhile, Aurelia had already turned to Elowen, completely unfazed. “Lady Elowen, has Master returned yet?”

  Before Elowen could answer, Novius and the butlers appeared at the end of the hallway, walking toward them.

  Aric walked toward his father, his steps light and bouncy, practically skipping as he caught up.

  Novius had stopped just short of the ward door, waiting for him. “Al,” he said in a low voice, “don’t mention anything that happened tonight to your mother. Not yet. She needs rest. Let’s not give her more to worry about.”

  Aric nodded and reached up to open the door, only to realize he couldn’t reach the handle. He tried once, twice, arms stretching. Still nothing.

  He huffed and looked back over his shoulder, he knew he was being yanked back by the colr.

  Aurelia had him by the scruff of his coat.

  “Master,” she said, now addressing Novius, “Before you go in, I need to make a few things absolutely clear.”

  Novius blinked.

  “First,” she continued, “congratutions. A healthy baby boy. Perfect birthweight, stable vitals, everything’s great.”

  Novius nodded, relief flickering through his eyes.

  “Now,” Aurelia paused, narrowing her eyes as if she were preparing to deliver a death sentence, “here’s the actual issue. One I am not dealing with.”

  Everyone, from the butlers to Elowen, instinctively leaned in.

  “This time, we had to perform a cesarean section,” Aurelia expined ftly. “And to do that, we needed her unconscious. Unfortunately, as you’re well aware, cultivators—especially your wife—don’t go under easily.”

  Novius swallowed. “Right…”

  “So I used a little extra. Or… maybe a lot.” She didn’t even blink.

  The silence was thick.

  “She’s still out cold, but under no circumstances—and I mean this—do any of you try to wake her. If she comes to before the drug wears off fully, we will most likely get a person who is in a delicate state physically that we will have to restrain.”

  Everyone’s faces turned solemn.

  “She might ugh. Or cry. Or destroy things. And that’s the best-case scenario, no one knows what would happen to a normal person if they get caught in it. So again—do not disturb her.”

  Aurelia swept her eyes across the group: the maids, the butlers, Elowen, and even Aric.

  The absurdity of the expnation sat heavy in the air. Her tone made it so that her medical malpractice of overdosing a patient was now their problem.

  Aurelia then pointed toward the door. “You may go in.”

  Carefully, Aric reached up and slid the door open, revealing the soft glow of the ward inside.

  Aric walked inside first, entering the sound barrier and making his way to the crib beside the bed. Novius and Elowen were walking behind him.

  Aric peeked into the crib, his breath catching at the sight inside.

  Wrapped snugly in yers of soft bnkets was a tiny figure—peacefully asleep, untouched by the world. Tufts of fine, ptinum-blonde hair peeked out from the swaddle, a perfect match to the mother’s. The baby’s little lips parted with each slow breath, his cheeks flushed in a pink.

  Aric opened his mouth in awe, he looked like he was about to squeal, but no sound came out—just a silent gasp.

  Novius stepped beside him and gazed down at the newborn, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, gently, he reached into the crib. His rge hands slid carefully beneath the baby’s back and head, lifting him with slow reverence. But even that softness wasn’t soft enough.

  The moment the baby left the warmth of the crib, he let out a sharp, high-pitched wail.

  Novius smiled despite the cry and sat down on the chair near the bedside, softly rocking the infant in his arms. “Hssh, hssh… it’s alright. Everything’s fine.”

  And, remarkably, the crying faded. The baby, now secure and lulled by the gentle rhythm, settled into the safety of his father’s arms.

  Novius watched him with a quiet ugh under his breath. Such a tiny, fragile thing… and yet he’d already wrapped himself around his heart.

  Elowen stepped forward next, reaching out with practiced ease. “Come on, little one,” she cooed, gently taking the baby from Novius’s arms.

  The moment he left his father’s hold, the wailing resumed—louder this time.

  “Aw,” Elowen chuckled. She held him to her chest and swayed gently, her voice soft and coaxing, “There now… all good.”

  Sure enough, the baby calmed again, comforted by the rhythm, by her warmth. He wasn’t asleep but stopped crying—his little lips forming an occasional coo.

  All the while, Aric hovered beside them, bouncing on his toes, his eyes glued to the baby. He trailed between whoever held him.

  “Here. Hold him,” Elowen said suddenly.

  “Huh?”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “But... but what if I drop him?”

  That earned twin ft stares from both Elowen and Novius.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Elowen huffed, and before he could protest again, she pced the baby carefully into his arms. “You’ve lifted weights heavier than this. You’re not going to drop him.”

  The baby let out a soft wail at the sudden change. Aric froze.

  “You’re holding him wrong,” Novius said gently, stepping in to guide his hands. “Support the head. Babies can’t support their head.”

  With Novius adjusting his arms and Elowen observing like a hawk, Aric managed to cradle the baby properly, though the infant was still crying.

  “Tch.” Elowen clicked her tongue. She leaned in and pressed her thumbs against the corners of Aric’s mouth, lifting them into a smile. “Fix your face. Babies can sense things, you know. Smile—gently now.”

  Aric obeyed, his awkward grin smoothing into something more natural. He gently rocked the baby, and like magic, the little one began to settle again. Not asleep, but rexed, comforted.

  Novius ran the back of a knuckle down the baby’s cheek, his voice low. “Kids are sensitive, they sense things people generally miss, that’s why you smile. Even if you are nervous. If you are smiling, no matter the situation, it makes people calmer. Especially kids”

  The baby gave a tiny coo, then slowly drifted off once more, completely still in Aric’s arms.

  After a while, Aric carefully stepped back toward the crib and id him down, as tenderly as if pcing a gss sculpture.

  “Soo~ what are you going to name him?” Elowen asked as she settled into a chair, her tone light and teasing.

  “Name?” Novius gnced at her, then turned toward the bed, where Xironia still y resting peacefully. “She will be the one naming him. We will have to wait.”

  And so they did.

  The atmosphere in the hospital ward settled into a rare hush.

  Novius had brought Xironia and others to Ravencrest for the best medical facilities, and with the work done, most of the guards started taking their leave. The only ones that remained were some of the strongest guards.

  The nurses finally stepped away to rest. The night passed gently.

  It was te morning when the quiet was broken inside Xironia’s ward—not by chatter, nor footsteps—but by a very insistent wail.

  The baby.

  His tiny voice echoed through the ward with surprising strength, demanding attention in the only way he knew how. And just like that, Xironia stirred from her sleep.

  Groggy, her eyes fluttered open. Her vision slowly focused on the soft cries… and the familiar figure pacing near the crib.

  “Hehe… so active, first thing in the morning,” Xironia murmured, her voice husky.

  She extended an arm toward Novius, palm up. “Come here…”

  Novius carefully pced the baby into her waiting arms.

  Half-sitting, Xironia gently adjusted her posture and shifted the baby into her p. Novius, knowing what was coming next, turned on his heel to give her some privacy.

  But—

  “Oh? Leaving already?” Xironia's voice took on a pyful lilt, still hoarse with morning rasp but unmistakably smug.

  Novius froze mid-step.

  “You’ve already seen everything,” she added with a raised brow and a smirk, “surely you can stay while our baby enjoys his well-deserved breakfast?”

  He let out a soft sigh, defeated, and slouched into the chair beside the bed—the same chair he'd barely left all night.

  Xironia giggled, clearly pleased, and leaned back, her fingers running slowly through the soft tufts of her newborn’s ptinum-blonde hair.

  The room settled into a peaceful silence. The cries had stopped. The baby suckled contentedly, his tiny fingers curled into the folds of his mother’s dress.

  When he was full, he pulled away with a quiet sigh, blinking drowsily in the soft morning light. Xironia rested her cheek against the crown of his head, gently rocking him in her arms as he cooed—a soft, gurgling melody that melted both their hearts.

  Novius, watching the two of them, couldn’t speak. He just smiled.

  And for a while, they simply sat there—no words. Until Novius decided to break the silence.

  “Nia,” Novius said softly, watching as she cradled the baby against her chest, “did you think of a name?”

  “Name… nameee…” Xironia mused aloud, her voice light and teasing as her fingers gently traced over the baby’s soft cheeks.

  “Yes,” she finally said, smiling. “Faelux. How does that sound?”

  She looked up at Novius expectantly—only to find his brow slightly furrowed.

  “What?!” Her shoulders tensed. “You don’t like it?”

  Novius quickly shook his head. “No, I like it. I was just… wondering what it means.”

  “Ohhh~ It’s a blend. Lux means illumination.”

  She lifted the baby just enough so his curious little face met hers.

  “Do you like your name, Faelux?” she asked the baby in a singsong tone, gently bouncing him. As if perfectly timed, he squealed in delight, his arms filing slightly.

  Novius raised an eyebrow. “What does Fae mean?”

  Xironia only giggled again, leaning her cheek against Faelux’s. “You can figure that out yourself. Faelux already approved, so the name isn’t changing anymore.”

  The baby let out another cheerful noise, as if in complete agreement.

  Novius could do nothing but sigh.

  Not much happened that day, apart from Faelux getting coddled by everyone.

  The entire day passed with Xironia and Novius following Aurelia’s orders for Xironia to rest.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the people returned to a pce they hadn’t seen in years: the Athran estate in Ravencrest. Repaired and maintained under Novius’s orders, the mansion had been kept pristine, waiting for their return.

  After a full day of rest and recovery, Novius, Xironia, and Faelux also made their way to the estate for a far more formal purpose—the celebration of Faelux’s birth.

  It began quietly with the arrival of the King’s ceremonial gift, and from there, things quickly snowballed. Nobles arrived in droves, each bearing gifts, flowery praises, and overly dramatic toasts. Merchants appeared, their arms full of gold-stitched baby garments.

  The celebration dragged on for a week.

  Between managing guests, deciphering social rituals, and tending to the very real needs of a squirming, unpredictable newborn, the Athran household lived in a state of festive exhaustion. But finally—mercifully—the ceremonies came to an end, and the family returned to the quieter halls of Greystone.

  Well… ‘quieter’ might be the wrong word.

  Faelux, it turned out, was not the type to take life passively. Every passing day only made this clearer. The maids, the butlers, Novius, and Xironia all met the wrath and whimsy of a child with a strong set of lungs and stronger opinions.

  The only one unfazed by it all? Elowen.

  Every time Faelux’s wailing echoed through the corridors, she would nod as if affirming some ancient truth and mutter, “Yes, this is exactly how it should be when raising a child.” Aric had been a notoriously zy baby, content to ze in a quiet room, wrapped in bnkets, barely twitching unless something caught his interest. Faelux, on the other hand, would either be asleep or require constant attention.

  And once he became familiar with everyone? He became selective.

  If he wanted to explore or be carried around, he wouldn’t stop crying until one of the butlers—or ideally, Novius himself—picked him up and took him for a tour of the mansion or even up to the rooftop garden.

  If he was hungry, only Elowen or Nessa were acceptable escorts. They’d bring him to Xironia, or she’d appear herself the moment his cries hit that unmistakable “feed me now” pitch.

  If he was tired, it was either Xironia or Eirlys he wanted, preferably Xironia.

  When he wanted to py? It was Lily or Aric.

  But sometimes there was no substitute for Aric. He had to be there.

  If Faelux spotted his brother across the courtyard, across a room, or even across the house, he'd cry until Aric showed up—and not just to wave. No, Faelux demanded full pytime, and if Aric brought Lily along too? Even better. Sometimes, he’d tug on Aric’s sleeve and then point toward Lily, as if issuing summons.

  It didn’t take long for the household to realize the truth: Faelux had reshaped everyone’s schedules around his whims, and everyone was now having a hard time handling a child and their work.

  Everyone except Aric.

  With his training not being focused on his physique anymore, he wasn’t training as much. And Faelux made sure he used that—crawling into his p, babbling nonsense, tugging on his fingers until they pyed some obscure toddler game only Faelux understood.

  As the days rolled on, Faelux’s little world kept expanding—one unsteady step at a time. It wasn’t long before he learned to walk, and once he did, there was no stopping him. The mansion became his kingdom, its halls his endless pyground.

  He marched everywhere with wobbly confidence, completely unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—about the dangers of staircases, slippery floors, or table corners. Bumps and tumbles were a daily occurrence, but he always bounced back up, usually with a determined grunt and occasionally a dramatic sniffle that earned him a few extra cuddles.

  Everyone adored watching him toddle around, arms out for bance, his tiny boots pattering across marble floors. That said, the sight of him teetering near staircases could give even the calmest person a minor heart attack.

  Time passed in blinks. Weeks blurred into months. The mansion, once filled with his squeals and delighted coos, now echoed with something new—his voice trying to form actual words.

  He babbled constantly, mimicking sounds and words from whoever he spent time with. Naturally, everyone anticipated his first real word would be “Mama” or “Papa.”

  They were wrong.

  It was “Nia.”

  He somehow picked a word that only Novius used before picking up something Xironia was trying to teach him for weeks, every time he was in her p.

  Whenever Faelux saw Xironia—whether down a hallway, across the garden, or nestled beside him—his eyes would brighten and he’d shout with all the excitement in his little lungs, “Nia!” Sometimes he used it to call her, sometimes just to announce her presence, and sometimes for no reason at all.

  It was undeniably adorable. No one corrected him, not even Xironia, who was too busy melting every time she heard it. It took several weeks before he switched to “Mama”… and even then, “Nia” often slipped out first.

  Even during pytime, Faelux would sit surrounded by toys, muttering half-formed words and humming to himself like a little storyteller caught in a dream.

  By the time he turned two, his personality was shining in full. Faelux was endlessly curious, quick to ugh, and even quicker to imitate anything that amused him.

  One evening, Aric had used [Blow] on Faelux’s face just to make his hair flutter. The gust startled Faelux at first, but then he giggled. And when everyone else joined in with ughter, Faelux tried to blow right back.

  It wasn’t a skill. He tried to mimic that, but obviously he couldn’t. He did what he thought was the best substitute and puffed his cheeks and a mighty “PFFFT!”

  But that didn’t stop him.

  For days, he walked around trying to “cast” [Blow] on everyone, blowing at anyone who picked him up. And every time people ughed, he’d burst out giggling too, delighted at his newfound ability.

  That habit carried over to other things. If he found something amusing, he’d copy it. One day, he saw Xironia signing official papers with a quill and immediately decided he needed to do the same.

  The tantrum that followed could only be described as a diplomatic incident.

  “Signnn~!!” he wailed as he reached for the inkpot like it was the key to the universe.

  Eventually, Xironia had to convince him that crayons were basically magic quills. He wasn’t convinced at first, but once he discovered crayons made color appear wherever he dragged them? The child was sold.

  Faelux now carried his signing stick, a blue crayon, everywhere, often crawling onto desks and approving very important scribbles on any paper left unattended.

  He alone forced Xironia to keep her office clean and papers out of reach from him.

  It was a quiet evening, warm enough to carry the golden hue of dusk without the sting of heat. The others were busy, and Aric had been entrusted with a very important task of keeping Faelux occupied.

  Out on the empty training grounds, Faelux clutched a ball almost too big for his hands. He looked up at his older brother, then wound up dramatically like a tiny, overconfident pitcher. His eyes squinted shut just before he let the ball fly.

  Aric took a few steps and caught it.

  “Yay!!” Faelux squealed, hopping in pce with excitement. Every successful catch sent him into an adorable flurry of motion, feet pattering wildly. He waited with sparkling eyes for his turn to catch.

  The only other sound was that of birds calling in the distance, flying back to their nests. Even those seemed to quiet as Aric gently lobbed the ball back with an easy underarm toss.

  It nded perfectly in Faelux’s tiny hands. He held it tightly.

  “Nice,” Aric said.

  But instead of bouncing with pride or demanding another throw, Faelux's little legs shifted direction. He ran straight at Aric.

  “Bruder!” he called out, clinging to the hem of Aric’s tunic with both hands and tugging insistently.

  Aric blinked. “Hmm?”

  “Wa’er!” Faelux said, cheeks puffing out with effort as he emphasized the word.

  “Water?” Aric asked, amused.

  Faelux nodded, his head bobbing up and down very quickly.

  With a chuckle, Aric took his hand. Together they walked to the arbour.

  Faelux cmbered up the few steps with Aric's steady hand guiding him, then let out a tiny huff as Aric lifted him onto the bench.

  Aric had already brought a bottle of water, expecting his brother to get thirsty, so he grabbed it and opened the bottle. Faelux grabbed the bottle, trying to take it. “No ‘elp.”

  “I’m not helping,” Aric said quickly. “Just holding so you don’t drop it.”

  The innocent child smiled, satisfied by the answer, and grasped the bottle in both hands. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply.

  When he finished, he handed it back triumphantly. “See? Didn’t fall!”

  Aric smiled, ruffling Faelux’s hair. “Nice. You did gre—”

  Just as he was about to say something else, Faelux wiggled excitedly and tried to leap from the bench.

  “Bruder, let’s go! I wanna py!”

  Aric pced a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Lux,” he smiled down at him, “We’ll py more.”

  Faelux’s face lit up immediately. He dove into Aric’s arms with a hug, his small arms wrapping tightly around his brother's torso.

  “But first,” Aric said, voice soft, “Can you do something for me?”

  Faelux tilted his head up to find his brother smiling and smiled back.

  “Can you run straight to Mother’s office and tell her that big brother needs her here right away?”

  Faelux nodded with wide eyes. “Race??”

  “Yep, yep,” Aric gently lifted him to his feet, pcing him carefully on the bench. “Hang on to me. I’ll carry you to the starting spot, and when I say go, you run, alright?”

  “Yay! Race!” Faelux cheered, wrapping his arms around Aric’s neck and swinging his feet.

  Faelux rested his chin on Aric’s shoulder, finding the most comfortable position. He giggled and pointed somewhere behind them, his finger barely visible as it poked past Aric’s colr.

  “Ooh! Who’s that?”

  “Hmm… I wonder,” Aric said, he turned. Slowly.

  Faelux, now facing the other way, continued swinging his legs pyfully. “I’ll run fast, Bruder!”

  “You sure will,” Aric murmured, still cradling him.

  His eyes weren’t on Faelux anymore.

  They were on the figure now standing at the center of the arbour.

  The figure didn’t move. It just stared back into Aric’s eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  “Hehh~” a faint chuckle answered him, “you noticed me…”

  LazyMoofy