The soft creak of a cradle echoed in the quiet room.Sunlight streamed through embroidered curtains, spilling warmth over silver hair that shimmered faintly under the morning glow.
Klaus blinked. His baby-blue eyes followed the dust motes drifting lazily above him. To anyone else, he looked like an ordinary infant—calm, unbothered—but inside that tiny body, his mind was far from it.
'Still no progress today…'
He tried to circulate his mana, but the effort felt like forcing light through mud. The darkness in his meridians resisted every attempt, thick and unmoving. Still, the Ten Eyes Mantra worked quietly in the background, peeling away at that black wall little by little.
His attention shifted as a familiar scent of jasmine drew closer.
"Good morning, my little moon," Elisabeth said softly, her voice gentle enough to make the air itself seem kind. Her golden eyes caught the sunlight as she leaned over the cradle, holding a colorful rattle. "Let's see if you'll smile for Mother today."
Klaus cooed instinctively, though in truth, he only wanted her to stop shaking that noisy toy.
'Playing with her is more exhausting than meditation.'
Still, he didn't mind her warmth. Elisabeth Lionhart was the only person whose touch didn't feel suffocating in this vast, cold manor.
He was about to feign sleep again when—
Click.
The door opened. A tall man entered, dressed in a black coat trimmed with silver threads. A cross-shaped earring gleamed against his left ear. His steps were silent, confident, and his eyes—clear, tranquil, like polished glass—swept across the room.
"Brother Raphael!" Elisabeth exclaimed in surprise. "You didn't even send word!"
Klaus's body stilled. Raphael Lionhart.
He knew that name. One of the most famous figures of the continent — the Lionhart family's saintly healer. Though not an heir, Raphael's mastery of healing arts had once turned the tide of wars. Even among nobles, his reputation was near mythic.
"I returned from the northern provinces earlier than planned," Raphael said, smiling faintly as he closed the door. "I couldn't pass through without meeting my nephew."
"Your timing is perfect," Elisabeth said, eyes bright with warmth. "Come see him."
Raphael approached the cradle. Klaus gazed up at him, trying not to let his interest show.
"Ah," Raphael breathed. "Silver hair, blue eyes… it's been generations since those traits appeared."
Elisabeth brushed a finger through Klaus's hair with a proud smile. "He looks just like his grandfather, doesn't he?"
Raphael chuckled. "A far gentler version, perhaps." Then, with genuine curiosity: "What name did Father give him?"
"Klaus."
Raphael repeated it quietly, tasting the sound. "Klaus… from the old tongue of Rikxia, isn't it?" His eyes softened, impressed. "That's a noble name — one reserved for those destined to stand between light and shadow. It seems Father has high hopes for this child."
Elisabeth's lips curved faintly. "He said little when he named him, but… I think so too."
Klaus listened, feigning indifference, though his mind sharpened.
Raphael's hand hovered above the cradle, his palm glowing faintly with white light. "May I?"
"Of course."
The gentle radiance spread over Klaus's small frame, bathing him in a soothing warmth. For a moment, it felt like sinking into a clear spring. But the calm didn't last. The light dimmed, flickering against something deep within him — a wall of pure darkness that refused to yield.
Raphael's expression changed. He frowned slightly, as if tasting bitterness.
"There's resistance," he murmured. "A heavy darkness, coiled through his mana circuit."
Elisabeth's golden eyes widened. "Darkness? Is he cursed?"
"Not cursed," Raphael said quickly, his voice measured. "It's a rare constitution — one I've seen only a handful of times. We call it the Veil of Shadows. It doesn't harm the body directly, but it slows growth and dampens energy. As the circuit matures, the imbalance can cause fever or pain."
Klaus felt the light fade completely as Raphael withdrew his hand.
"He'll need sunlight and diluted light elixirs," Raphael continued, "one dose each day. That will keep the Veil from spreading."
Elisabeth's shoulders eased slightly, though her voice trembled when she asked, "Will he still… be able to cultivate?"
Raphael hesitated. "It will be difficult," he admitted. "His body will resist mana-based techniques. But if he survives the early years, his potential might surprise even us."
Klaus's lips twitched. You have no idea.
Elisabeth clasped her hands. "Thank you, Raphael."
"Don't thank me yet," he said kindly. "Thank the boy when he's old enough to bear the pain himself."
Before he could say more, the door opened again. A servant in dark livery bowed. "Sir Raphael, the Patriarch requests your presence."
"Of course he does," Raphael muttered with a weary smile. "Always the perfect timing."
He straightened his coat and gave Elisabeth a respectful nod. "I'll speak with him. Stay calm, sister-in-law. The child's strength will show in time."
He turned toward the cradle once more, his tone softening. "Keep watching the world, little one. You might just change it."
Then he left.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Elisabeth stood before the grand doors of the Patriarch's hall. The marble corridor stretched endlessly behind her, servants lowering their heads as she passed.
When the doors opened, Roman Lionhart sat alone by the hearth, his presence commanding even in silence.
"You've heard," he said before she could speak.
Elisabeth inclined her head. "Yes, Patriarch. Raphael examined him."
"And?"
"He advised treatment — sunlight and light elixirs. I came to ask permission to draw from the family reserves."
Roman's gaze was sharp, assessing. "For a child who may never wield a sword?"
Elisabeth met his eyes. "For your grandson."
A long pause followed. The fire crackled softly.
"You've grown bold," Roman said finally.
"I've learned what boldness costs," she replied, her tone calm but resolute. "And what inaction costs more."
A flicker of amusement crossed his cold features. "You speak well." He lifted his hand. A faint golden shimmer split the air beside him, forming a small dimensional rift. From it, three wooden boxes floated forth, landing gently on the table.
"Elixirs of light," Roman said. "Have Raphael oversee the dosage. Use them wisely."
Elisabeth bowed her head. "Thank you, Patriarch."
As she turned to leave, Roman's voice followed her, low and unreadable. "If the boy lives through his Veil, then perhaps the name I gave him won't have been in vain."