Chapter 1: Rebirth in the Mortal World

**Fifteen Years Later…**

In a fantastical realm known as the Seven-Moon World, nestled within the modest yet enchanting Vermilion Kingdom, a land vibrant with lush greenery and adorned by rolling hills, the once-noble Blackthorn Family now found themselves ensnared in a desperate struggle for survival. The kingdom, a tapestry of vibrant colors under the ever-shifting skies, held within it stories both rich and tragic, and the Blackthorn's fall from grace echoed throughout the land.

In a cramped servant's courtyard, hidden away from the grandeur of the Blackthorn estate, a 14-year-old boy lay on a cracked wooden bed that creaked under the weight of time and despair. His dreams were a cacophony of vivid images; he found himself amidst sprawling battlefields, the air thick with the smell of burning embers and the sounds of clashing steel, while colossal dragons soared overhead, their scales glistening like jewels under the faded light of a dying sun. His name was Azeris Nightshade, a name that carried whispers of forgotten nobility and untapped potential.

Abruptly, the tranquillity of his dreams was pierced by a gentle voice, rich with warmth, calling out to him with a softness that brought him back to the present. Azeris blinked awake, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim, early morning light filtering through the dust-streaked glass of the window, where a spider spun its intricate web, a small sign of life in an otherwise bleak existence.

Before him stood Lilian Nightshade, his mother, with silver-white hair flowing like shimmering moonlight, framing her delicate face with a soft halo of beauty that time had not entirely stripped away. Though weariness had dulled the luster of her locks and carved faint lines into her skin, her striking violet eyes held an undeniable strength, warming the sparse room with an aura of love and resilience.

"Good morning, my love," she greeted him, her smile tender enough to dispel the shadows lingering in the corners of his mind, a beacon of hope in their otherwise shadowy existence. Her hand reached out to softly stroke his cheek, her touch warm and reassuring, reminding him that even in trying times, love persisted. "Did you have any bad dreams?"

Azeris shook his head, a game of emotions playing across his youthful face. "No, Mom, I'm fine. Breakfast is ready; let's eat," he replied, managing a small smile that flickered momentarily but was quick to fade; he could not shake the weight of their reality.

After Lilian departed from his room, Azeris swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor biting into his skin. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, where he gazed into the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. The reflection looked back at him—a thin frame, limbs lacking the vigor of youth, skin pallid and drawn from years of hunger and neglect—a stark reminder of the trials that had befallen his once-illustrious family.

With an almost mechanical routine, he washed his face in the cold water and studied his features, noting the golden hue of his eyes that held a flicker of something deeper—potential, dreams, and perhaps a hint of defiance against fate. He ran his fingers through his disheveled dark hair, trying to tame it as best he could, knowing that he had little time to spare.

Taking a deep breath, he descended the rickety staircase that led to the dining room, each creak of the wood beneath him an echo of their fading past. The air was rich with the smells of breakfast— warm bread, and the earthy scent of barley soup simmering on the tiny stove. There, he found his older sister, Selena, already seated at the worn wooden table. Her long silver hair cascaded like a shimmering waterfall, shimmering softly under the flickering candlelight that struggled to ward off the encroaching shadows. In her striking violet eyes, determination and fierce love for their family sparkled, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

"You're finally awake, little brother," she remarked, her tone firm yet laced with care, a sister's concern woven through every word. "Eat quickly. We have a long day ahead of us."

Azeris took his seat and looked down at the meager breakfast spread before him—a small loaf of coarse bread, its crust rough and imperfect, and a bowl of thin, watery soup—an all-too-familiar meal that reflected their dire circumstances, a daily reminder of their fallen status. He tore a piece of bread off and dipped it into the soup, trying to swallow the bitterness of their reality along with the food.

As they began to eat in silence, a series of sharp knocks echoed through the air, breaking the quiet atmosphere like a thunderbolt, the urgency of it pulling Azeris from his thoughts.

"Azeris, are you there?" called a sweet voice, one filled with a lighthearted exuberance that seemed to dance through the air.

Azeris immediately stood up and opened the door, revealing a girl of no more than his own age, her enthusiasm radiating warmth and brightness, an infectious spirit that felt almost like sunlight breaking through clouds on a dreary day. Isabella Blackthorn, the sole daughter of the Blackthorn Family's head, stood before him; her long, golden hair flowed like cascading waterfalls, catching the light and glimmering as if adorned with tiny stars. With sapphire-blue eyes sparkling, her infectious excitement transformed her whole demeanor, making her appear ethereal, almost as if she belonged to a different world entirely.

"Did you forget our promise?" she huffed, her hands playfully resting on her hips, a mock frown crossing her features that quickly morphed into a smile. "You said you'd practice swordplay with me today!"

Azeris blinked in surprise, his heart warming at her cheerful demeanor and the sincerity of her words. A genuine chuckle broke free from his lips, an unexpected joy at the thought of escaping their grim reality, even if just for a while.

However, before he could respond, a sharp voice sliced through the air like a dagger, halting the moment.

"Isabella, step away from that filth."

A tall young man, clad in fine clothing that whispered of nobility, strode toward them with determined steps, an aura of arrogance trailing closely behind him. Kane Blackthorn, Isabella's elder cousin, advanced with the ease of someone who had always known their place in the world, his emerald-green eyes shining with disdain that could cut through steel. Every step he took was calculated, honed by years of entitlement and privilege, shaping him into a figure to be feared.

With a sneer twisting his handsome features, he commanded attention, the contempt in his voice palpable as he spat out words meant to humiliate. "Isabella, why waste your time on a servant? He should know his place."

Though irritation and indignation sparked within Azeris, he instinctively lowered his gaze, trying to appear submissive in the face of such scorn as he felt the intensity of Kane's disdain enveloping him like a shroud.

But Isabella, her spirit unyielding and fierce as a lioness, stepped forward defiantly, placing herself between Azeris and Kane. "Kane, leave him alone!" she demanded, her voice firm, carrying the weight of her conviction, a challenge that echoed through the small courtyard. Her stance was resolute, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still; the air crackled with the tension of their unfolding conflict.

Kane scoffed at her defiance, momentarily taken aback, but beneath his bravado, there was a flicker of uncertainty. Yet, unwilling to back down, he narrowed his eyes, the smirk creeping back onto his lips as he threatened, "You better watch yourself, bastard. Your time in this family is running out."

As he strode away, each step he took dripped with arrogance, and Azeris felt a tide of determination swell within him. His golden eyes narrowed as he watched Kane retreat, burning with a fierce resolve, a seed of ambition taking root within.

"Enjoy your arrogance while it lasts, Kane," he muttered quietly, his voice steady and imbued with latent power. "Because soon… you'll see just how fleeting power can be."

The weight of his words hung in the air, unspoken promises of defiance and ambition crystallizing in his heart. This was not the end; it was merely the beginning of a journey he would forge for himself, one filled with trials, battles, and ultimately, the reclaiming of his destiny.