Beneath the grand palace of Xandria, in a forgotten chamber carved before the kingdom itself was named, the Stone of Oracles began to pulse.
It was not a loud event. There were no trumpets or thunder. Only a subtle hum that crept through the bones of the keep, through altar stones and priest robes, until a young acolyte in the temple archives dropped the scrolls in her hand and began to weep — without knowing why.
By the time the High Oracle reached the sealed crypt, the glass casing around the Stone had fogged from within, and a single glowing word had seared itself into the obsidian.
It was written not in ink, but in violet light.
"Fracture," the Oracle whispered, her voice thin with awe and dread. "He has arrived."
The Royal Chamber
The parchment was brought to the throne room under armed guard.
King Altherion sat in his study, crown removed, eyes shadowed by sleepless nights. Across from him, Queen Liora cradled their sleeping son, rocking gently in silence. The mood was heavy — a strange contradiction to the golden peace that had blanketed the kingdom.
A court scribe stepped forward, trembling.
"Your Majesties… the Stone has awakened."
"Show me," the King said.
The parchment was unrolled on the table. It held one word only, burned into the surface in violet and spiraled ink:
Fracture.
A breath passed between them.
"What does it mean?" Altherion asked.
The High Oracle, flanked by robed attendants, stepped forward with a slow bow.
"The prophecy does not speak plainly. But the Old Tongue links 'Fracture' to the end of Sealing. The beginning of undoing. This word has never appeared on the Stone before."
"And it appears now," Liora whispered, her voice tight. "The year of his birth."
The Oracle nodded slowly.
"The child is no longer hidden."
"And the Seal?" Altherion asked.
"It responds to him. And so do the things buried within it."
That Night
The moon hung low and sharp above the city.
Within the nursery tower of the palace, baby Carsious lay still in his golden cradle, swaddled in silk. His eyes were closed. A faint light glowed from his skin — almost imperceptible, but there, like starlight caught on glass.
Unseen in the shadows of the tower, the Watcher stood on air.
He had been observing for weeks now. Never interfering. Never revealing himself.
But tonight… something was different.
A pressure had entered the room.
He felt it moments before it happened — a ripple in the structure of reality. Not magic. Not fate. Intention. From something else.
"A test," the Watcher whispered. "Or a message."
Overhead, the marble ceiling groaned.
Cracks raced across it, forming a spiral.
Without warning, the stone ruptured. A chunk the size of a man fell — silent as death — toward the infant's face.
There was no time for guards to intervene.
But Carsious opened his eyes.
No fear. No cry.
Just a gaze — wide and glowing with that same violet energy that had burned the prophecy stone.
The air above him shimmered.
The falling stone halted mid-air — particles tearing from its edges like smoke in reverse. Then, with a soundless hum, it disintegrated into pure light, vanishing entirely.
The glow from his eyes faded.
The child closed them again and returned to sleep.
The Watcher stepped back.
For the first time since entering this world, his form shuddered.
"He didn't react," the Watcher murmured. "He didn't summon magic. He simply… was. And the universe chose to obey."
He turned his head toward the horizon, where distant stars began to tremble.
"No one told me the child would have innate dominion. If that was instinct…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Deep Below
The Stone of Oracles cracked.
A single vein of purple split its center.
Priests rushed to the chamber to find torches snuffed out and symbols flickering on their own robes.
Above, the royal couple slept uneasily.
And in his crib, Carsious slept quietly — the seal around his soul growing thinner by the hour.