Xandria flourished.
Since the birth of the prince, the skies had never been clearer. Plagues vanished. Crops grew twice their size. Fewer wars were fought in the borderlands. The people of the realm whispered that the child was a miracle — a blessing sent to heal a fractured world.
But not all miracles are pure.
Some are simply calm before the storm.
Far above the clouds, where birds do not fly and stars pulse in silence, a tear in the sky opened like an eye.
Through it stepped a being of no fixed shape.
Sometimes it looked human — a cloaked figure with silver eyes. Other times, it became a swarm of black feathers or a shadow folded into itself.
This was the Watcher.
Sent by the Monarchs, forged from chaos, wrapped in secrecy, and unseen by the universe he entered.
"The child lives," he whispered, his voice echoing in forgotten tongues. "I feel it. The Seal breathes through him."
He stood on the edge of the realm, overlooking the shining capital of Xandria, the castle gleaming like a crown in the sun.
He did not blink.
He did not move.
"I am not here to kill," he said to no one. "Not yet."
"Only to watch... until he becomes what the prophecy claims."
Then, like smoke, he vanished into the wind.
Within the Palace Walls
Carsious, still an infant, lay in his crib wrapped in silks. He did not cry like other babies. He stared — quietly — with eyes too knowing.
The Queen sat beside him, humming softly.
She paused often now, watching his face for signs she could not name.
"Why do I feel like you're listening?" she whispered to him. "As if you understand."
The child blinked.
Outside the nursery, the palace ran smoothly. Courtiers laughed. Nobles feasted. The King, Altherion, issued generous reforms. The world was at peace.
But inside those walls, the royal couple had begun to sleep with torches always lit, and swords closer than books.
They loved their son.
But something in them had changed.
In the Eastern Fields
A farmer awoke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind — the kind that feels wrong.
His crops had withered overnight.
In their place was a perfect circle, burned into the ground — a black spiral no fire could cause, no animal could carve.
There were no footprints. No smoke. No smell.
Only the mark.
By noon, it had vanished.
But that part of the land would never grow again.
From a high place, the Watcher stood invisible.
"The Seal isn't just cracked," he whispered. "It is waking."
His eyes glowed for a moment — reflecting the face of baby Carsious, asleep in golden sheets, unaware of the war his soul had just restarted.