“In shadows deep, a kingdom's plight,

The birth of one without magic's light,

A prophecy foretells, a chilling verse,

A land in chains, a nation cursed.

As daylight and darkness entwine and sway,

Stars plummet, night devours the day,

In dread and fear, we shiver with despair,

For winds shall steal our breath, a poisoned air.

In this eerie realm where magic wanes,

The birth of the ordinary, doom remains,

A chilling prophecy we dare not ignore,

Our kingdom's fate, forevermore.

A land in the grip of fear's embrace,

As the non-magical birth shall seal our place,

In the night's cruel grip, our souls laid bare,

A kingdom's damnation, a fate we're forced to bear.

Yet amidst the shadows, a unique sight,

A child with eyes, a mismatched light,

One of crimson red and one of void black,

In them, a secret, a strength we must not lack..”

• • •

The starless sky draped the flourishing green lands of Werleria as gloomy clouds roared from the incoming storm.

The hard wind battered the leaf-filled branches of the surrounding trees of the Duke's mansion, breaking off from their stems to beat against the glass windows of the east wing.

The excruciating screams of a woman echoed off the concrete walls of the mansion, accompanied by the panicked chatter and padding feet that ran helter-skelter on the third floor of the mansion.

Within the mist of confusion and terror, the most weight of the woeful night fell on the shoulders of the one whose footprints seemed to have started to burrow into the marble floor.

The Duke of Elfedon, Lord Benedict Benjamin.

"Your Grace!" Called the anxious voice of the Duke's personal adviser, Philip. "You need to be calm, Your Grace."

Blankly ignoring his words, as if they were nonexistent, the Duke continued to pace up and down in his chambers.

Built with a muscular physique, his brown hair was neatly brushed backward, and his golden eyes locked on his pacing feet, with his fingers digging deeper into the palms of his clenched fists.

The white skin of his face was already bluish from the lack of oxygen, despite his deep breaths.

An even louder agonizing cry bounced off the walls and pierced deep into his chest and heart. He immediately lost it.

"That's it!" He charged to the door.

"Your Grace! No! Wait!" Philip ran after him, following the Duke, who paced briskly in the direction of the cry.

On approaching the tall doors, the crowd of maidens immediately stepped forward, "Your Grace, please, you mustn't—"

"Out of my way!" He pushed them aside without regard and barged in.

He immediately froze at the sight of the woman lying on the bed, flat with her legs parted under the white sheet.

His eyes slitted.

"No..." His breath shortened as he rushed to the bed, grasping the shoulders of the woman who remained still on the bed with her eyes left open but lifeless.

"No. No. No. No... NO!" The walls shook to the Duke's roar, followed by the sorrowful whimpers that left his lips as he placed his head on hers, whispering.

"No... No, Gabriela. No..." He broke into tears, wrapping his arms around her lifeless body to cry over her shoulder.

With all eyes locked on the Duke and the late Duchess, the maidens surrounding the Duchess's bed wore broken, remorseful expressions at the sight of His Grace's plight and devastation.

The earful cry of a baby abruptly seized the room, causing the Duke to pause. Gingerly raising his head from his beloved late wife, Lord Benedict slowly gazed over his shoulders to lock eyes on the young maiden clutching the newly born in her arms.

She stepped back.

Watching her with disbelief filled in his teary eyes, he slowly pushed up on his feet to stride towards the girl with the baby.

Another maiden quickly spoke, "Y-- Your Grace. Wait a—"

"Give me my child," he murmured in a distant tone as he walked half-dead towards the crying newborn.

The maiden holding the child shook her head, "Your Grace, you- You might not be ready fo—"

"GIVE ME MY CHILD!"

She flinched, frozen between the concrete wall and the enraged Duke; the young maiden trembled on the spot as Lord Benedict carefully approached her with his arms stretched out.

Shutting her eyes to look away in anticipation of wrath, the young girl handed the child wrapped in numerous cloths to the Duke.

Benjamin gently received the crying child to bring to his chest, raising his hand to pull away the fabric over her face.

He froze.

The infant watched him, with eyes of mismatched irises, one of bright crimson and the other black and void. Its hair was bright blonde, identical to his late wife's, causing it to stand out against its shiny dark ebony skin — the complete opposite of the Duke and his wife's skin.

Not to mention the majority of the entire Werleria kingdom as a whole.

The child cooed with dilated pupils, filled with curiosity and adornment as it stared back at the Duke's gold eyes.

Benjamin stood still for a moment longer, watching the little thing in his grasp.

From holding the infant moments longer, it didn't take much for him to realize something was indeed misplaced from the child far it's appearance — it lacked magic.

Given his supreme hierarchy in sorcery, Benjamin was able to sense and measure the level of sorcery in any soul or item represented as Ki.

But for some reason, the child in his arms beared none. Not a single drop of magic leaked from its living being.

His brows quirked.

"Your Grace?" The oldest midwife stepped forth. "I- It—..."

"I know", was all he said, knowing exactly what she wanted to speak on.

"I know my child bears no ki..."

The women in the room grimaced in disappointment and pity, lowering their gaze in silence.

But then again, the glint in Benjamin's eyes didn't dim. "But this truth holds no stand", he murmured to himself.

Another maiden then said out loud, "I- It's a girl, Your Grace".

He didn't dare take his eyes off the pure angelic essence symbolizing his and his wife's love. He ogled at her so much he failed to realize the wide smile stretched across his lips.

He then parted his lips to murmured, "You look just like your mother." The child only watched him. Benjamin was far too mesmerized to look away.

"What would you like to name the child, My Grace?"

Taking a moment to scrutinize her all over again, Benjamin then said, "Sylteena."

Their brows shot to the roof of their skulls.

"Sylteena," he called once more, clearing their doubts.

Every single person in that room knew the exact meaning of that rare, ancient name.

Meaning Heiress of the Abyss.