Chapter 9 – The Silent Miracle of the Little Prince
The magnificent palace of House Sylendôr resembled a living painting, with streams of magic flowing gracefully down its walls. Centuries of memory were etched into the stone, and ancient secrets slumbered in every crevice. The palace's youngest member, Prince Aelion, was only eleven months old, yet the past three months spent within this resplendent place had marked the greatest transformation of his young life.
It was a world entirely unlike the quiet security of the humble home he once knew. Every corner, every carved detail breathed with the essence of magic, and the shimmering currents that drifted through the corridors endlessly fueled the little prince's imagination.
These three months had been an unexpected period of growth for Aelion. Everyone in the palace watched with awe as he grew at a remarkable pace and displayed new talents day after day. His rapid progress in learning letters was so astonishing that it became a topic of daily conversation within the household.
His greatest companion on this journey was the house's gentle and patient servant, the elf woman Ilara. Ilara did not just teach Aelion letters; she taught him patience, focus, and the joy of discovery itself. Under her warm and caring guidance, the first spark of curiosity shone in the little prince's eyes as his fingers traced the shapes of the letters—something that did not go unnoticed by those around him.
In as little as two weeks, Aelion was able to recognize basic words. This achievement inspired both surprise and admiration throughout the palace; no one had imagined that a child not yet one year old could display such swift comprehension.
On those quiet mornings spent learning, Ilara would sometimes reward Aelion with tiny gifts: colorful stones, little beads that glimmered with simple magic, or the old elven songs she had once learned from her own mother. In those moments, Aelion received not only knowledge, but a true sense of kindness and belonging. Ilara's slender hands would patiently guide his trembling fingers, and for a while, the silence of the entire palace would seem to reign in that small room.
Soon, Aelion was able to combine syllables into meaningful words and express his thoughts and feelings. The words often stumbled awkwardly from his lips, but each new discovery lit up his face with a proud smile—a smile that brought genuine warmth to everyone in the palace.
Most of his days were spent playing with his older sister, Elara. Elara, driven by a fierce protective instinct toward her brother, watched over him constantly, teaching him new games and filling their shared moments with laughter that echoed down the palace corridors. Her presence softened Aelion's loneliness, filling his heart with hope and a sense of belonging.
One afternoon, Elara taught Aelion how to make paper birds that transformed with magic. When she spoke the incantation and the tiny bird soared around the room, Aelion's face first filled with amazement, then blossomed into pure, uncontainable joy. These simple games deepened the bond between sister and brother with every passing day.
Sometimes their play turned into small magical experiments; together they tried to create colorful lights or conjure simple rings of energy. These shared moments not only strengthened their sibling bond, but also fed Aelion's interest in magic and nurtured his intuitive talents.
Their parents, Lyra and Orin, overwhelmed by the burdens of the household and their duties, could see their son only rarely and for brief moments. Yet those moments left unforgettable marks upon the little prince's heart.
One night, Lyra visited Aelion before he fell asleep and gave him a tiny talisman bearing the golden seal of their house. "Let this talisman be a protective blessing beside you," she said. Aelion clutched his mother's gift tightly in his palm; in that instant, an invisible bridge formed between his mother's love and the legacy of their house.
Aelion's freshest and strongest passion, however, was for books. The palace's grand library was not merely a repository of tomes, but a sanctum where time, wisdom, and magic had accumulated for centuries. Surrounded by thousands of volumes, the scent of old parchment and the warmth of magically carved wood brought him peace and curiosity.
He would enter the library with the first light of morning and often not leave until deep into the evening. On some days, the silence of solitude weighed heavily on him; he imagined the breezes drifting through the shelves carried the whispers of ancient elven sages. The magical patterns etched along the shelves, the occasional glowing symbols, and floating fragments of words reminded him constantly that this was no ordinary place of learning, but a living being unto itself.
One such afternoon, as golden sunlight spilled through the library's vast windows, the great doors slowly swung open. The eldest and most revered mage of the household, Eldrian, entered. Eldrian was the living memory of House Sylendôr—a rare mage who had reached the half-step emperor realm. Every step he took upon the flagstones felt as if not just a man, but an entire age was walking the halls.
With his silver hair falling to his shoulders and his robe embroidered with magical sigils, Eldrian's mere presence caused the flow of magic in the library to shift; the ancient books seemed to quiver ever so slightly.
He had watched Aelion for a long time—had seen the young prince's hunger for learning, the questions burning in his eyes. In Eldrian's view, Aelion was not just a child, but the first stirring of an ancient legacy long asleep.
Aelion was buried in a large tome, sunk deep into a chair, when he sensed Eldrian's approach. He looked up, eyes shining with the unmistakable gleam of magic.
Eldrian spoke with a voice both gentle and commanding:
"Do you enjoy books, little prince?"
A faint blush crept across Aelion's cheeks. Though still a child, the curiosity burning within him lent a surprising maturity to his gaze.
"I love them so much! Every book feels like a new world to me," he replied, his voice pure and full of excitement.
He paused for a moment, and a shadow of seriousness fell across his features:
"I want to learn more about magic."
Eldrian gave a warm, knowing smile.
"What is the first thing you wish to know about magic?" he asked, pride and expectation mingling in his tone.
Aelion replied without hesitation:
"The origin! Where does magic come from? How was it born? Why can't everyone feel it the same way?"
The question left a bittersweet smile on Eldrian's lips—a smile born of years and generations of similar questions echoing through these halls. Yet in Aelion's gaze, he sensed a deeper current, a different destiny.
He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice:
"I will give you a special book. This book holds the secret history of House Sylendôr. Within it, you will find clues to the origins of magic. But before you open it, you must promise me something, Aelion: Do not share what you learn with anyone, unless you have weighed it with your heart."
Aelion nodded solemnly. For him, this was not merely a promise, but a vow that resonated deep within.
Eldrian handed him an ancient book, bound in green and gold, sealed with magic. When Aelion touched the cover, he felt a faint warmth at his fingertips, and a living magical current seemed to rise from the depths of the pages.
Together, they opened the book. Inside, runes woven with magic, old family seals, and lines of elven poetry awaited them.
Aelion pointed to a particular section:
"What does this page tell?"
Looking at the page, the light of the past flickered in Eldrian's eyes:
"This is the story of our house's first great mage. It tells how they encountered magic—how it first touched their soul. Every line holds a secret, every sentence a legacy spanning centuries."
Aelion nodded, entranced.
"How did they first encounter magic?"
Eldrian was silent for a moment, for within this tale were not just knowledge, but the fate of the house and memories of his own.
He spoke softly at last:
"Be patient, little prince. First you must learn the basics. Until you understand the nature of magic, you cannot truly grasp its origin or its power. I will show you the three fundamental laws of magic—everything begins there."
From that day forward, an invisible bond formed between Aelion and Eldrian. The library became not just a house of knowledge, but a sacred haven where past and future, legacy and destiny, converged.
Sometimes Eldrian would read a passage from an ancient manuscript, then bring it to life with magic in the room. Once, the miniature figures from an old tale of heroism had leapt to life, battling atop the table while Aelion watched, eyes wide with awe and wonder.
Lessons passed sometimes in solemn focus, sometimes in playful delight—but always, they expanded the young prince's world.
At times, they discovered tiny magical creatures hidden among the notes of ancient elven scholars; other times, they simply sat in silence amid the shelves, listening to the slow, steady passage of time.
And as all of this unfolded, the old walls of the palace began to whisper of the approaching footsteps of a new era.