---
Chapter 3: The Child of Winter Fire
The snow had not stopped falling for three days.
Blankets of white covered Kremond's cobbled streets, the rooftops glimmering like silver crowns under the morning sun. But inside the Grand Duke's estate, the air shimmered with warmth—not from the enchanted hearths, but from something far more powerful.
Love.
The halls buzzed with quiet celebration. The noble house of Farah had been blessed with a child. After years of prayers, rituals, and whispers behind closed doors, the miracle had finally arrived.
And in the center of it all—wrapped in layers of starlight-blue silk and cradled in the arms of a smiling duchess—was **Sirius**.
He did not cry.
He did not coo.
He only watched.
His crimson eyes—so unusual, so vibrant—followed every movement, every whisper, every flicker of light. People often said babies were too young to understand the world.
But **he** was not a normal child.
> "Look at him," said Grand Duchess Xylia Von Tovi Farah, gently rocking him in her arms. "He's calm. Too calm."
> "He's like a little guardian watching over us," the Grand Duke Caspain Von Ross Farah replied with a laugh. "Our own little star. The gods have truly blessed us."
The servants nodded in agreement. The nurses adored him. Every visitor left his presence claiming to feel "watched," "protected," or "strangely at peace."
They called him brilliant. Gifted. A miracle.
But only **he** knew the truth.
---
Sirius, the once-feared **Demon King**, watched the world through the eyes of an infant.
> "They love me," he thought. "Genuinely."
Their words were not lies. Their touch was warm. Their care was endless.
And yet…
He felt nothing but distance.
Even as Xylia pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
Even as Caspain held his tiny hand and whispered promises of the future.
Even as laughter echoed through halls built of gold and legacy.
> "They are not mine," Sirius thought. "And I will not make the same mistake again."
---
Once, he had believed in love.
He had believed in the sacred bond of blood.
He had believed in **Anubis**—his elder brother, his mentor, the one he looked up to more than anyone else.
> "He was the only person I let close…"
And yet—
Anubis had tried to **kill** him.
Not once.
Not twice.
But countless times, hidden behind smiles, praise, and quiet conversations about peace and destiny. Sirius had ignored the warnings. He had defended his brother. He had lowered his guard.
Until the final betrayal.
> "Sealed. Trapped. For 20,000 years. Because I was weak enough to love."
---
Now, reborn in a body small and soft, Sirius made a vow beneath his breathless infant stillness:
> "No more."
> "They will see me as their son. Their child. Their joy."
> "But I will never again give my heart away."
---
In the following days, the halls of House Farah were filled with laughter.
Nurses sang lullabies older than the empire itself.
Nobles sent enchanted toys and rare gemstones wrapped in silver leaves.
One elderly court mage declared Sirius's aura "unshakably noble" and predicted that he would become a hero.
And yet, every time Sirius looked into someone's eyes, he searched.
Not for kindness.
Not for hope.
But for **ambition**.
**Greed.**
**Hunger.**
Just like the flicker he had once seen in **Anubis**... moments before his betrayal.
---
Still, he played the role of the child.
He let them dress him in soft velvet.
He let them dote and pamper.
He let them believe.
But in the silent moments, when no one was watching, his thoughts always drifted elsewhere.
> "This family is not mine. But they are good."
> "I will treat them with the respect they deserve."
> "But I will never—*never*—forget what trusting someone cost me."
---
That night, as snow continued to fall like feathers from the sky, Xylia stood by his cradle and whispered:
> "My sweet boy… whatever you become, just know that you were born loved."
And Sirius, who should not have understood her words, closed his eyes and silently replied:
> "And you, kind mother… will be safe. As long as you never try to take what is mine."
---
Far above, in a realm untouched by mortal hands, **Abylay** stirred in the moonlight.
She felt him.
Her beloved.
His soul.
His breath.
And her heart, heavy with centuries of waiting, beat just a little faster.
> "Wait for me, Sirius."
And across the veil, Sirius—unknowing of her whisper—dreamed of war.
---