The spectacle held the grand hall in a vise of stunned silence. Lucas, pale and serene, hung suspended in the air, a pale jewel set against the dark marble and glittering gold. Around him, the soft, profound glow of cosmic latte light pulsed gently, as if cradling the birth of a new star. It wasn't a harsh radiance, but a deep, ethereal luminescence that seemed to whisper of vast distances and ancient beginnings.
Every crimson eye in the chamber was fixed on him, from the youngest royal cousin to the most ancient, power-wizened elder. Awe was a palpable force in the room, thick and trembling.
"Spac—" an elder with a face like cracked parchment began, his voice a hoarse whisper, then corrected himself, his own red eyes flaring with a scholar's fervor. "No… that is not mere Spatial manipulation. That… that is the resonance of the Cosmos!"
The distinction was critical, and these were beings whose lives were dedicated to parsing the nuances of power. Space was a law, a tool, a dimension to be folded. Cosmos was the source. The canvas upon which space was painted.
The dam of silence broke. Murmurs swelled into exclamations, a chorus of disbelief and dawning comprehension.
"How?!" a woman's voice cut through the babble, sharp with a mix of envy and terror. "How can a boy, a common-born boy, touch an affinity that has no precedent in all our annals?!"
History was their scripture. They knew of the Anomalous Affinities—those terrifying, reality-bending powers that stood apart from the elemental and the physical. Soul. Mind. Life. Death. These were the domains of legends and nightmares, each wielder a figure who had rewritten chapters of history. They were powers counted on one hand across millennia.
But Cosmos… Cosmos was a blank page. A theoretical absolute. There were no records in the Imperial archives, no whispers in the forbidden libraries of rival empires, no myths of a god who wielded it as a mantle. It was an affinity that belonged to the silent dark between stars, not to the beating heart of a mortal boy.
That utter lack of precedent was what truly shook them. It wasn't just rare; it was unknown. A power with no history, no limitations yet defined, no prophecies to constrain it. Its potential was an abyss, and Lucas floated at its event horizon.
A unified, voracious thought crystallized in a hundred powerful minds, their expressions shifting from shock to cold, calculating hunger. This child… no longer a child. This asset. He is bound to our family now. The earlier disdain for his common blood evaporated like mist before the dawn of this impossible dawn. His value had been catastrophically re-evaluated. He was no longer a potential weak link; he was a potential keystone to a new imperial age.
With him, the heights we could reach… The fantasy was intoxicating.
Meanwhile, in the radiant epicenter of all this calculation, Empress Alexandra's thoughts took a uniquely personal detour. As the cosmic light played over Lucas's peaceful, floating form, her gaze lingered on the lines of his body, the curve of his jaw, the pale column of his throat. A wholly inappropriate, deeply possessive heat coiled in her gut, cutting through the political frenzy. I wonder… with a power like that thrumming in his veins… if he could put a child in me. A true heir, forged of sun and cosmos. The thought was so wildly at odds with her public majesty it would have caused the hall to implode if broadcast.
Abruptly, as if the invisible puppeteer had grown bored, the cosmic light winked out. The gentle levitation failed. Lucas's body went limp and dropped like a stone.
A collective gasp rose, but it was unnecessary. Arthur was already there, a blur of gold. He caught the boy effortlessly, one arm cradling his back, the other under his knees. He looked down at the unconscious face, pale and perfect in its exhaustion, and a genuine, warm chuckle escaped him. He deserves this sleep. What a performance. I haven't seen the old vultures this off-balance in centuries. Congratulations, you magnificent little anomaly.
With a thought, a plush white towel manifested and wrapped itself snugly around Lucas, preserving a modicum of dignity.
In the murmuring crowd, the earlier tension was morphing into giddy, acquisitive speculation.
"Mmmm," purred Lady Lara, the woman with the wine-red hair, tracing a finger along her lower lip. Her gaze was less that of a noble and more that of a collector eyeing a priceless, unique specimen. "I think a union would be… beneficial. Our lineage, combined with that cosmic seed… imagine the children. They would be demigods."
"Control yourself, Lara," snapped her cousin, Arnold, a man whose pupil-less red eyes gave him a perpetually severe look. "He's a boy. Your… appetites are showing again. It's grotesque."
"Can you blame me, Arnold?" she retorted, her smile not reaching her cold eyes. "Look at the potential sleeping there. And besides," she added, running a hand through her lustrous hair, "I doubt he'd find this… unappealing, when he's of age."
Arnold clicked his tongue in disgust, turning away. Why must everyone in this damned family be so utterly deranged?
From her throne, Alexandra overheard the exchange. A flicker of something dark and possessive, colder than the void Lucas had just channeled, passed through her crimson eyes. Her mental response was a silent, absolute decree. He is already mine.
She raised a hand. The gesture was simple, but it carried the weight of the sun. Instant silence descended, heavy and expectant.
Her gaze swept over Andromeda, standing with her newfound icy poise, over Londres, whose fury was barely contained beneath a mask of resentment, and finally settled on the unconscious form in Arthur's arms.
"I congratulate you all," her voice rang out, clear and resonant, filling every corner of the hall. "You have taken your first, true steps onto the path of power. Especially you, Lucas." She paused, letting his name hang in the air, now imbued with new significance. "This is merely the beginning. The challenges will be greater, the enemies sharper. Treat every victory as a lesson, every defeat as a whetstone. Understood?"
"Yes, Aunt!" Londres replied immediately, her voice tight.
"Yes, Aunt," Andromeda echoed, her tone its usual lazy drawl, but her eyes were fixed on Lucas.
"Now," Alexandra's attention shifted to the assembled family, her expression turning to one of cold, political finality. "Given the… demonstration we have just witnessed, I trust there is unanimous agreement. Lucas has earned his place within the Imperial Family. Not by birth, but by the mandate of power itself."
Arnold was the first to speak, his voice gravelly but firm. "No objections from me. The boy has proven his mettle beyond any doubt."
"Nor I," Lara added, her tone now all business. "An asset of this magnitude must be secured within our walls."
"How could we refuse?" a younger, more hot-blooded scion chimed in. "With him, we can finally wipe the smug looks off the faces of those Vali bastards!"
A rumble of agreement, eager and unified, passed through the crowd. The vote was not just unanimous; it was fervent. Lucas had been transformed from a liability to the empire's most promising secret weapon.
Alexandra gave a single, regal nod. "Good. Then it is settled. However," her voice dropped, taking on a dangerous, silken quality. "What was witnessed here does not leave this room. To the outside world, Lucas Tan Zalanta has manifested a potent Lightning Affinity. A rare and powerful boon, worthy of note and respect. The truth of the Cosmos remains a family secret. The consequences for breaching this confidence will be… solar in nature."
A chill ran through the assembly. They all understood. "Understood, Your Majesty," they intoned as one.
With that, Alexandra extended a hand. A tendril of red-gold energy, warm and gentle, snaked out from her fingers. It coiled around Lucas, lifting him from Arthur's arms as carefully as if he were made of glass. He floated toward the dais, the white towel fluttering around him. She observed his peaceful, sleeping face for a moment, confirming the steady rise and fall of his chest. He is merely sleeping… good.
In a flash of incandescent light that forced everyone to blink, the Empress and the sleeping boy vanished from the hall.
Just as the assembled nobles began to shuffle out, murmuring amongst themselves, a figure stirred high above. On one of the massive, ornate chandeliers, nestled amidst the crystal teardrops and cold enchanted lights, a blanket shifted. A head of tousled, moon-white hair poked out, followed by a languid yawn.
Sephira, the First Princess, blinked sleepily down at the emptying hall. She had been there the entire time, a lazy spectator from the rafters.
"Congrats, Lucas," she murmured to the empty air, a genuine, soft smile touching her lips. "Knew you had something special in you." Her mind drifted to her elder brother, the Crown Prince, away at the military academy. Her smile turned impish. "I wonder what face he'll make when he hears. Knowing him, he'll probably requisition a wyvern and break every speed record getting back here, his arms full of absurdly expensive 'congratulatory' gifts."
With a contented sigh, she pulled the blanket back over her head, nestled into her pillow on the chandelier's broad central frame, and within moments, the steady, gentle rhythm of her breathing was the only sound left in the vast, silent hall.
******
I'm sorry it was a short chapter, from here I will only upload on friday. Gotta fight them books (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻