The air shimmered with something ancient.
It was not heat, nor magic, nor wind—but a pressure. A hum beneath the bones of the world. A weightless silence that made the trees bow and the sky dim, as if the very realm recognized what was coming.
The Divine Beasts were arriving.
One by one, they descended upon the hidden sanctuary like fragments of legend returned to the world. Each arrival bent reality in its own way—some brought storms, others silence, and some made the stars blink in reverence.
____
High on a clif, wreathed in violet fog, Nyx'Zari the Veilmother coiled gently, her thousand eyes blinking in rhythm to the sleeping child's breath below.
Beside the boy's silken nest stood Vaerokh the Stormfang, still as stone, wings folded tight across his back.
"They're late," he rumbled.
"We are eternal," Nyx'Zari whispered. "We do not measure by seconds."
Vaerokh flicked a spark from his tail and exhaled slowly."
"Some of them will protest. You know this."
"Let them." Her voice was soft. Dangerous. "I will unmake any who suggest harm."
___
The ground trembled.
First to arrive was Thaloryn the Verdant Warden, his great hooved feet blooming grass with every step. His antlers stretched wide like a living crown, and his breath smelled of moss and old rain. Vines curled from his flanks, carrying soft flower-spirits and glowing pollen.
"I felt his mana from the edge of my grove," Thaloryn said, bowing his head slightly toward the cradle. "It shook the roots of the ancestors."
"He dreams of sunlight," Nyx'Zari said. "He will like you."
___
A flash of molten light split the clearing next.
Durmund the Forgefather, a giant bear—glowing with the heat of a living forge, emerged in a burst of sparks and smoke. His obsidian plates cracked with every movement, revealing glowing magma between seams. He snorted once, the steam hissing from his nostrils turning the nearby stones to glass.
"Hmph. Thought I'd be first," he grumbled. His voice sounded like rocks grinding in a furnace."The boy still breathes?"
"He lives," Vaerokh said. "And he already alters the world by existing."
"Then we'd better teach him how not to break it."
___
Then came Kael'sari, leaping from tree to tree in a blur of flame. She landed without a sound—her ember-fur crackling as she stretched like a great feline.
"He smells like a prince," she purred. "But his heartbeat is wild… curious… untamed."
"He is all of those things," said Nyx'Zari. "And none."
___
More arrived.
A flurry of snow and silence heralded Seranyth the Canine Frostmaiden, who bowed without a word.
Zephyrael the Dawnpiercer descended in a beam of golden light, radiant and noble.
Xan'thuul the Depth Whisperer swirled into the clearing in a pulse of darkness and echoing thought.
Xylara the Hiveheart fluttered upside-down towards them, giggling.
Baelgoroth the Warhowl stomped in with a roar loud enough to shake birds from the trees.
And soon after, even Titania, the great Bloommother, arrived trailing a thousand floating blossoms.
By the time the last of them stood around the glowing nest, the canyon shimmered with mana so thick, even the trees stopped swaying. The very world seemed to hold its breath.
___
"Let this be recorded," said Zephyrael, his wings flaring wide. "The Council of the Sixteen reconvenes."
"For the first time in a thousand years," murmured Thaloryn.
"And perhaps the last," said Xan'thuul.
A silence passed between them.
Then they all turned to the bundle of golden silk—still softly glowing. Still breathing gently. A single black-and-gold tail swished beneath the wrap.
___
"What do we do with him?" Baelgoroth rumbled. "We all know what he is."
"He is ours," Kael'sari said with a grin. "All races. All blood. All power."
"And all risk," Durmund growled. "This child could burn a city down before his second moon."
"Then teach him not to," Nyx'Zari said coldly. Her shadow deepened, eyes blinking slowly. "That is why we are here."
___
Debate sparked like steel on flint.
Some spoke of training. Others argued for isolation. One or two suggested placing divine seals to contain his growth until he matured. Zephyrael cautioned patience. Baelgoroth demanded battle training from the age of three. Xylara wanted him to "learn through games and illusions." Xan'thuul warned of attracting the cults if they let his aura flare unchecked.
But through it all, Vaerokh said nothing. He simply watched.
Until finally—
"We will raise him together!" he declared, voice cracking like thunder.
"We will each give him a piece of ourselves."
The others went still.
"The gods chose not to destroy him," Vaerokh continued. "They gave him to us. If we deny him guidance, we give him to fate… or to the Evil God."
"He will learn the wild," said Kael'sari. "From me."
"He will learn discipline," grunted Durmund. "From me."
"He will learn balance," whispered Titania. "From all of us."
One by one, they agreed.
Not as beasts.
Not as guardians.
But as a family of myth, gathered to raise the boy who could one day unmake—or save—the world.
And from his cradle, as if hearing them…
The baby smiled in his sleep.
____
End of Chapter 3