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child is born in the hidden kingdom of Xandria. His hair is white, his eyes glow violet—and with his first cry, a cosmic Seal begins to crack.

Long ago, the Rulers of the multiverse created a secret universe behind the backs of their ancient enemies, the Monarchs. It was meant to be a weapon, a last resort in their war against an enemy so powerful it erased realities. But that creation rebelled. It could not be controlled. It could not be destroyed.

Together, Rulers and Monarchs sealed the universe away, burying its power in myth.

Now, tens of thousands of years later, the impossible happens: a child is born who shatters the silence. His birth is a ripple that awakens forgotten monsters, shakes divine thrones, and threatens to reignite a war older than time itself.

He is not just a child.

He is the fracture.

Carsious: The Child of Fracture

Twelve years had passed since the stars rained fire upon Xandria.

Twelve years since the world last heard the name Carsious spoken aloud.

In a hidden realm outside time, where the sky shimmered with silent galaxies and the trees hummed like memory, a boy was learning to become something more than mortal — without ever being told why.

He moved across the starlit field with a spear in hand, his body low, eyes sharp, breath controlled. Not hunting a beast.

Training to survive gods.

Eryndor, clad in flowing silver wrappings and a mantle of dusk, raised a pale hand. Energy shimmered from his fingers, and the world seemed to bend slightly inward.

Carsious leapt forward, the spear glowing faintly in his grip. Not with flame — but with something deeper, something inside him.

He spun, jabbed, ducked a blast of raw force.

Eryndor's strikes were fast but deliberate — testing, not cruel.

"And you've grown slower," Carsious smirked, rolling aside from a beam of cutting starlight.

They clashed. The boy's spear met the Guardian's palm — and the ground cracked beneath them, releasing a sharp thoom that echoed across the sky.

"Why do I feel like I could do more?" Carsious asked between flurries.

"Because you were born for more," Eryndor answered. "But your power… would call monsters."

Carsious flipped backward and hurled the spear — it split into three midair, glowing fragments guided by instinct.

Eryndor waved a finger. A dome of folded space swallowed the attack whole.

"Then unseal it," Carsious growled.

Carsious moved faster than before — fueled by something emotional now — and struck Eryndor's side. The Guardian stepped back, surprised.

"You're starting to remember," he said quietly.

The Vision

That night, Carsious sat alone under the silver tree, its leaves humming with quiet energy. His hands still trembled from the day's training. The sky above shimmered — but he wasn't looking at it. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Then suddenly — a blink. A silence deeper than sleep.

And in their place stood a figure.

He wore armor whiter than judgment, etched with ancient symbols that glowed like galaxies. Ten wings of light, curved like burning crescents, arced from his back — some feathered, some made of raw divine energy, some flickering like living scripture.

His face was partly veiled by a halo of golden light, but Carsious could see pain in his eyes — and exhaustion. Not just physical, but something far older.

He stood upon nothing, surrounded by a void that remembered fire.

"You should not be alive," the being said — but the words were filled with regret, not anger.

The wings folded. The light dimmed.

And then the vision shattered like glass.

Carsious gasped, sitting upright beneath the tree, his chest rising and falling as if he'd run a hundred battles.

He looked up to the stars — which had returned to their place — and whispered:

A name lingered in the silence beyond thought.

But the wind stole it before he could hear.

Chapter 10: The Boy in the Hollow Light