Chương 1: It’s A Starboy Falling From The Skies

"Look at this place, Mira." A baron stood at the edge of his terrace, and his eyes reflected the garden below. A dead garden, no green nor even a single life in it. And the rain, which had not come for weeks, did not help. But it wasn't the lack of rain that filled him with despair, no.

"Widow's Wall used to be something the kingdom could be proud of. And now, it... it—this is..." the baron whispered.

"This is my fault, most like."

"No." The baroness, Mira, stood beside her husband, wrapping her shawl tighter around her scarred but toned shoulders as she looked into her husband's eyes.

"You never say that, you hear me? It is the Veil which consumes our land."

"The Veil? The Veil did not do this to us, my love." The baron looked away.

"The Dark Forest has been asleep for years. It is this stupid war that has caused us to run dry. Our men, our coin, our hope. What more do they want from us?!"

"Robb..."

"What will be left of us?!" the baron, Robert, raised his voice as he looked at the remains of their orchards.

"Mothers separated from their husbands and children. Hundreds of refugees. Empty bellies, it—" Mira touched her stomach at her husband's words, and her breath became much heavier than the air that night.

"I… did not mean it like that, my love. And I... I apologize for raising my voice." The baron's jaw tightened.

"But perhaps... perhaps it's for the best? What kind of world would we bring a child into?"

"A world where he is loved, Robb." Mira clasped her hands on her husband's cheeks.

"Loved?" Robert leaned away, pointing beyond their garden and toward the fog beyond their barony. The fog, it glowed an unnatural light, even brighter than the moon.

"You are right. We are already lucky that the Dark Forest has remained asleep while our lands are at war. It is a sign that… a sign that…that's—a Night Arrow?" Robert suddenly pointed at the sky. How could he not, when the dark clouds above lit up—a flying star, coloring darkness with light that crawled across the clouds like a ripple.

"It is! Make a wish," she whispered, gasping at the falling star. Robert glanced at his wife.

"That is just skyrock, my lady. And wishes are for children and fools."

"The gods will still love me even if I am both." Mira's lips moved in silent prayer.

"Please… please give us a son."

"Mira... maybe it is mercy we have no child. Look around—hunger and war."

"A child brings luck. Hope. Perhaps that's what we need." She took his weathered hand.

"Pray with me. Just this once."

"That—Okay." Robert sighed.

"For you, my love. But which god are we praying to?"

"The Seven Laws, The Urtmother, Vulkan, all of them." Robert stared at his wife's sudden enthusiasm and smiled. He hesitated at first, but ultimately joined his wife in prayer.

"Sovereign of the Seven Laws, we humbly request you to hear us." Unlike his wife, however, the baron didn't close his eyes at all and kept watching the falling star grow brighter." Earthmother, guide —Mira?! Something's amiss!" But then… the star brightened. And then more. Robert stepped back, his finger shaking as he pointed at the falling sky rock.

"Have you never seen a Night Arrow, Robb?" Mira sighed.

"They're the gods' arrow. Mind yourself. Pray. Under the Sovereign we—Uh…" But then, Mira realized it too—even for a sky rock, it was getting too bright. And that was because it wasn't actually getting brighter, no. It was moving closer. Toward them. Straight toward them.

"If that is the gods' doing, then the gods want to kill us!" Robert grabbed Mira's arm, but she pulled away.

"Run! The only god that still shows herself to us is the Earthmother—that is definitely not her doing!" The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"No." She stepped in front of him, then leaped onto the ledge, her shawl falling onto her husband's face. She extended her left arm, revealing the toned muscles beneath. [Urtmother, Shilde!] she Breathed out, waving her finger in the air as if writing something—no. Not as if, she was writing. A smoke of symbols formed in the air, and when it flickered into a bright light, she grabbed it—a light which soon crawled to her wrist and willed itself into the shape of a shield that covered her entire frame.

"Robb, behind me!" Mira lowered her knees, preparing to tank the incoming rock. But then, the sky rock that threatened to violently erase them from existence… just suddenly stopped a yard away from hitting them.

"Gods…" Then it slowly hovered around Mira, now floating above the terrace. Mira followed it, stepping down the ledge while keeping her husband behind her. It stopped there, right in the middle of the terrace, as if staring at them. And then, it just dropped, its flames dissipating. The floor shook when it hit, and its sheer weight alone sent cracks crawling through the entire manor. Steam rose from where it touched the stones, and the smell of molten iron filled the air.

"We should go," Robert whispered.

"Now. Our people would help us deal with this at first light."

"Wait." But Mira was already walking toward it, her skirts rustling against the broken floor.

"Do not touch it," he called after her.

"The sky rocks are as hot as red iron, I believe. Even with the Depth of your Breath, it will burn the flesh from your bones." She reached out anyway, her palm hovering inches from the rock's almost glittering surface.

"It is warm, not burning. And it feels heavy—heavier than anything I have ever seen."

"You are half a breath to 3rd Depth, Mira. You could lift a horse with a single arm, you say this is heavy?" Robert squinted.

"Then perhaps it is best not to touch it. Come. We will call for the people—" A loud drum thumped in the air as Mira suddenly punched the rock, testing it. And yet, even as her punch almost collapsed the entire terrace, there was not a single dent to the skyrock.

"Mira, enough." Robert covered his ears.

"Remember your Oath not to shed blood. Let the ironsmiths handle it—" And then, the rock shook… but not from her punch.

"What is…" A tiny handprint suddenly emerged from the surface of the rock, denting it in shape.

"By the Earthmother, what is that?!" Robert breathed. And then, the rock that Mira couldn't even budge blossomed open from the inside. And from within it…a tiny hand emerged. The hand was no bigger than a sparrow, followed by a thin arm. The fingers moved at the crack, the rock groaning as the pair of tiny hands pried it open even more.

"It is a vemon, Mira. A Veilwalker," Robert whispered.

"Come to punish us for our sins."

"Or a dragon." Mira's shield flickered, and she once again wrote in the air, slapping the word onto her shield and turning it into a large axe.

"If it is, we kill it before it kills us!"

"A dragon? A dragon has not been seen in our land for a hundred years. They—" And then, a head appeared—small, perfectly formed, crowned with hair like spun gold that fell past his tiny shoulders. His. A human. A beautiful boy.

"An… infant boy?" Robert squinted. He crawled from his stone cradle, and the palm of his hand caused the already cracked floor to groan even harder. The baby looked up at them with eyes as blue as winter sky, causing both to freeze. But then, he began to cry. No, he bawled. The sound woke Mira up from a haze she didn't quite know she was under. And before Robert could even attempt to stop her, she approached the child, tearing strips of cloth from her dress as she went.

She scooped the child up, wrapping him in the cloth, and his cries stopped instantly. A giggle bubbled up from his throat instead.

"Mira, what are you—""Look at him." She brushed the golden hair from his face, marveling at how blue his eyes were. So blue, it seemed to glow in the starlight.

"Just look." The baby reached up with one perfect hand and touched her cheek.

"Not an infant boy," she whispered.

"Baby. Our baby boy. Enel… his name is Enel."

"... You have named him already?" And just like that, Widow's Wall finally gained an heir to their falling barony.

Some time passed, and the boy was inside a musky barn quietly speaking to a cow. He knelt in the barn, his forehead pressed against the cow's broad skull, golden hair falling like a curtain around them both.

"Thank you for your life," he murmured.

"Thank you for feeding the people of Widow's Wall." His hands gently found the base of the cow's skull. And then… without even breathing, he quickly twisted its massive neck, a blast of wind rippling from his arms and causing all the tools inside the cabin to clatter. In contrast, the cow made no sound at all. The beautiful beast simply went to sleep. Perhaps Widow's Wall… might have gained more than just an heir.