The night was alive with whispers of the wild.
In the depths of the forest, where the trees grew thick and ancient, shadows slithered between the gnarled roots, their hungry eyes locked onto the small bundle lying motionless on the ground. Predators lurked in the darkness, drawn by the scent of vulnerability.
A whimper. A soft breath.
The child did not cry, did not stir. He was too weak, too unaware of the death that crept closer with each passing second.
Then the air changed.
A presence immense and suffocating descended upon the clearing, as if the very forest had drawn breath and now held it in fearful reverence. The beasts that had begun their slow approach froze in place. Eyes that had gleamed with hunger now widened with terror.
A deep growl rumbled through the trees.
The branches above rustled, not with the wind, but with movement something large, something powerful. A gust of force swept through the clearing, and with it came a shadow that blocked out the moonlight.
Then, with a mighty thud, she landed.
A beast unlike any other.
Her form was a mixture of two of the mightiest creatures to ever roam Eldoria. She bore the massive, muscular body of a lion, her limbs thick with raw power. But from her back stretched enormous, leathery wings, folded now against her dark blue hide. A silver mane flowed from her head and neck, shimmering even in the dim light, cascading down her spine like flowing stardust.
Her eyes vivid green and piercing glowed in the night, taking in the scene before her. The bundle. The scent of human blood, yet untouched by magic. The foolish creatures that had dared to step closer.
With a single step, she made her will known.
The ground beneath her cracked. The very air vibrated with unseen force. The creatures of the night whimpered and fled, vanishing into the depths of the forest.
None dared defy Sylara.
She moved forward, towering over the bundle. Her sharp gaze swept over the child small, fragile, wrapped in nothing but thin cloth. His breathing was slow, his warmth fading.
But then She felt it.
A pulse. A presence, vast and unshaped, yet bound in invisible chains.
Magic.
Not the kind the world knew. Not the kind the kingdoms measured in their rituals.
Something far older.
Something greater.
Sylara exhaled, a mist of warm breath sweeping over the infant. "So this… is what they abandoned?"
There was amusement in her voice, but also something else something sharp and knowing.
Foolish mortals.
They had discarded a Sovereign.
Gently, she lifted the child in her massive clawed paw, cradling him with surprising care. He barely stirred, but when her warmth wrapped around him, he sighed softly, nestling into her touch.
Sylara's emerald eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed upon him.
"You are not meant to die here, little one."
Her wings unfurled. With a powerful leap, she took to the skies, vanishing into the night.
The forsaken child had been claimed.
And his story had just begun.