Under the silver wash of moonlight, in a courtyard wrapped in violet wisteria and spell-chained ivy, the air tingled with ancient magic. Stone braziers burned with pale blue fire. House Darsha's noble retainers gathered in ceremonial robes embroidered with sigils of lineage and legacy. Tonight was no mere celebration—it was the Naming.
Sharath was carried forward by Lady Ishvari, swaddled in ceremonial silks woven with protective threads. His gaze, alert and unblinking, roamed across the elders and their glittering scepters. He was placed at the center of the atrium, where a floating crystal lens, older than the estate itself, descended from the ceiling on threads of light.
The lens rotated, scanning his aura. Glyphs spun beneath it—glyphs that only the Elders could read. The air rippled as magic condensed and the boy's true name was spoken aloud:
"Sharath Virayan Darsha."
Each syllable pulsed with power.Sharath, the flame that endures.Virayan, the seer of paths.Darsha, the house of veiled destiny.
To the crowd, it was a ritual. A formality. But to Sharath, it was a tag, a structured system call that inserted him formally into this world's metaphysical registry. The ceremony was protocol—and he understood it. This wasn't a christening. It was an entry into the magical OS of Navaleon.
Fireworks of light and sigil sparked above. Music danced through the air. But Sharath sat quietly in his mother's arms, absorbing everything—faces, words, symbols. Every event was data. Every gesture, a line of code. He was a variable now declared.
Not just alive. Instantiated.