Chapter 5: The silent Conversation
Chapter 5: The Silent Conversation
The crib was too small.
Lux lay on his back, staring at the wooden slats above him, his tiny fingers curling into fists that trembled with the effort. The roughspun blanket scratched against his skin, the coarse fabric a far cry from the armor and gear he was accustomed to. Three days old. Three days in this weak, useless body.
Across the nursery, the lone window allowed thin shafts of afternoon light to cut through the dust-filled air. He tracked each floating particle with a soldier's focus, noting how they swirled in the draft from the cracked pane. Somewhere beyond that window, the Argent Sun burned, its distant power calling to something deep within him—only to be muffled by the Codex's seals.
Lyranna had tucked him in with trembling hands, her calloused fingers lingering for a moment too long on his forehead.
"Stay quiet," she had whispered, her violet eyes darting toward the corridor where the lord's bell still echoed. "The steward will check at midday. Don't make a sound."
The door had clicked shut behind her, leaving him alone with the creaking of the old Spire and the distant wails of other infants in the servants' nursery below.
---
Lux exhaled through his nose—or tried to. The action came out as more of a wet snuffle.
[Status Window]
The golden text shimmered before his vision:
LUX VAELITH
Race:Sun Elf
Age:3 days
[Cultivation Stage]
- Mortal
[Objectives]
1. Strengthen physical vessel (Est. 4 years, 362 days)
2. Avoid detection
[Warning]
- Argent Baptism in: 4 years, 362 days
He focused, pushing his nascent will against the edges of his consciousness.
"Show me my abilities."
The words formed in his mind with the same clarity as they had when he'd commanded troops, but the Codex remained silent. The status window didn't so much as flicker.
"Where are your fragments?"
Nothing.
"Who betrayed me first?"
For a heartbeat, the golden text wavered—then stabilized, unchanged.
Lux let out a sound that in his past life would have been a curse, but in this infant's body emerged as a frustrated gurgle. The noise seemed absurdly loud in the empty nursery.
He stilled, listening.
Somewhere in the Spire, a door slammed. Heavy boots echoed on stone. Distant voices argued about grain yields and missed quotas. No one came running at his outburst.
Good.
---
If the Codex wouldn't answer, he'd work with what he had.
Slowly, agonizingly, he rolled onto his stomach. The movement took far longer than it should have, his untrained muscles trembling with the effort. The rough blanket bunched beneath him, the texture grating against his cheek.
Pathetic. But a start.
He pushed up onto his forearms, his entire body shaking with the effort. The wooden slats of the crib pressed against his palms as he attempted to lift his head. A drop of sweat—actual sweat, on a three-day-old infant—rolled down his temple.
The window drew his attention again. Through its warped glass, he could just make out the edge of the Argent Sun's glow, its silver light diluted by distance and the Spire's ever-present haze.
Something in his chest ached at the sight.
A memory surfaced—not from Adrian Kael's life, but from one before. A battlefield under a different sun, the taste of copper on his tongue, the weight of a broken sword in his hand.
The image shattered as the nursery door creaked open.
---
Lux dropped back onto the mattress just as heavy footsteps approached the crib.
Dainar obsidian loomed over him, his silver hair tied back in a warrior's knot, his breath thick with last night's wine. The lord's fine clothes were rumpled, his boots tracking mud across the freshly swept stones.
"Still alive, bastard?"
Lux kept his eyes half-lidded, his breathing deliberately slow and even. Playing helpless. Playing ordinary.
Dainar's hand twitched toward the dagger at his belt—a beautifully crafted thing with a pommel shaped like a snarling wolf. His fingers brushed the hilt before curling into a fist.
The God-King's Edict was absolute: no killing before the Baptism. Not even for a noble's wounded pride.
"Five years," Dainar muttered, his voice thick with promise. "Then we'll see how golden those eyes are when I peel them from your skull."
He turned sharply, his cloak swirling as he strode from the nursery. The door slammed behind him, rattling the medicine bottles on the nearby shelf.
Lux exhaled, unaware he'd been holding his breath.
[New Objective Added]
- Survive Lord Dainar's wrath
The status window faded, leaving him alone with the dust and the dimming light.
Outside, the first stars began to appear. The black moon hung among them, its usual companions—the silver and crimson moons—nowhere to be seen.
Lux's tiny fingers curled around the edge of his blanket.
Four years, 362 days.
He'd survived worse odds.
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