Fate of Fateless

Certainly. Here's the next chapter focusing .

Seraphina's Quiet Days – A Week in the Eye of the Storm

The golden roofs of the Imperial Palace shimmered under the noon sun, but within the private chambers of the Western Wing, a softer stillness reigned.

Seraphina, princess of the Empire and now mother of the boy who defied prophecy, lay surrounded by silken sheets and glowing runes that pulsed with life-preserving spells. The palace physicians had done all they could—but it wasn't alchemy or medicine that healed her most.

It was Chris.

He rarely cried. Even as a newborn, Chris Originus watched the world with eyes far too ancient for a babe. When Seraphina held him, the light of the crystal lamps dimmed, and the room seemed to pulse with a rhythm deeper than time.

She bathed him herself—not the maids, despite their pleas—and often hummed old lullabies from her childhood, songs once sung to her by a mother long buried.

Even the imperial guards standing outside her quarters had begun calling her softly, with respect:

"The Saint of Stillness."

A Father's Protection – The Vault of Seven Shadows

On the fourth day, her father, Emperor Kaelith, entered silently with a small, square chest—obsidian-bound, sealed with blood and fate. It hadn't been opened in a generation.

"This is the only item I kept from the seventh Vault," he said, his voice like low thunder. "I would have used it to protect this empire's next war... but now, I give it to you."

Seraphina opened the chest slowly. Inside lay a silver talisman wrapped in black-gold silk. It pulsed faintly—a heartbeat of pure force.

The Aegis of Atraxis.

One of the three Emperor-class defensive artifacts ever created by the Founding Artificer himself.

"This… defends against divine attacks," she murmured.

"And time," Kaelith added. "And space. And memory. It can only be used once. Use it well. For him… or for yourself."

The Return – Shadows of the North

Seven days after the child's birth, a flying carriage of obsidian-glass and silver wings departed from the capital skies. Dozens of Griffin imperial guards soared around it, bearing the twin sigils of the Imperial Family and the Originus House.

Inside, Seraphina sat dressed in light imperial silk, the talisman hidden within her robes. Chris lay wrapped in a warm cloth beside her, resting peacefully against her chest.

"We're going home," she whispered, brushing his hair.

Arrival at the Duchy – The Silent Lion

The landing was quiet.

No horns, no banners. Just the old courtyard of Hepton Estate, lined with guards who had barely slept since the attack before Chris's birth.

And standing at the very front, arms crossed, eyes sharp with too many decades of war and wisdom—Lionheart, the former Duke.

The man who once bent a wyvern's neck with one hand.

His gaze went straight to the child.

He did not smile. He did not kneel.

But as Seraphina stepped out with Chris in her arms, Lionheart whispered something no one had heard from him in twenty years:

"Welcome home."

And then, he reached forward—not for the child, but for his daughter.

She took his hand. And in that silence, war and prophecy and fear melted away for just a moment.