Kain nudged open the dorm room door with his shoulder, careful not to jostle the small, unconscious bundle in his arms. The room was dim, lit only by the faint, bluish glow of the fortress’s street‑lamps outside the frosted window. The lingering tremors from the demigod clash had finally died down, though the stone still creaked occasionally—like the building itself was trying to rember how to relax.
He stepped inside and hesitated.
Two beds.
His... and Serena’s.
He stared at them for a full three seconds before, without consciously deciding anything, his feet carried him toward his bed.
Queen had checked the child’s condition on the way back—her antennae brushing over the boy as she assured Kain he wasn’t injured, just ntally exhausted from overstimulation.
She had even suggested the boy likely endured repeated episodes like this—prolonged surges of stress on a fragile mind—aning this wasn’t the first ti he’d collapsed during a clash. The thought made Kain grimace.No child should ever get used to that kind of pain.
So the boy needed rest. Deep rest.
Kain exhaled and carefully laid the child down on his bed, pulling the blanket up to the boy’s chin.
Then he turned.
And imdiately walked to Serena’s bed.
He sat down.
A mont later, his eyes widened.
’Wait. Why am I...’
He looked from his bed... to Serena’s bed... to the sleeping boy... back to his own bed.
’I put him on mine because it’d be rude to put soone on hers without asking...’ He internally justified.
But he completely neglected to justify why he didn’t need permission to be in her bed...
Not long after, the door opened.
Serena stepped inside, shoulders drooping in exhaustion. Frost dusted her hair. Her coat was half unbuttoned, her breath still visible despite the indoors. She shut the door behind her with a quiet sigh, clearly bracing herself for another night of barely any sleep.
Then she saw the child.
Her body froze and her tired mind began to reboot itself.
She blinked.
Blinking again, slower.
A third ti, harder.
The child remained.
Then her gaze slid to Kain. Who was on her bed.
Wordless.
Flat.
Questioning.
Kain cleared his throat, "Uh. So... funny story."
Serena said nothing.
The silence was pointed.
He ran a hand through his hair, then shoved both hands into his pockets, then took them out again, completely failing to find a normal posture.
"...Okay, so I was out on patrol," he began, "and—well, you know how I’ve been trying to figure out what Amos left behind, or if there’s soone worth awakening in the fort?"
Serena gave a single small nod.
Kain gestured vaguely. "I... might’ve found sothing."
Her gaze flicked to the unconscious boy.
Then back to him.
"...Which is he?" she asked softly. "The connection to Amos... or the first person that should be awakened?"
Kain opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again and shrugged helplessly. "I... actually don’t know."
He told her everything—the uniform grey Threads of Destiny, how they’d suddenly returned the mont the human demigod stepped outside the fort, the blinding white thread that led him straight to the boy, the child’s pain during the sigil overload, the strange words about soone "calling." Every odd detail.
When he finished, Serena approached the bed. She stood silently for a mont, studying the boy’s frail form.
Her expression softened. Sothing in her eyes—an instinctive, protective impulse she rarely let surface—seed to lt the frost she usually held around others.
Without a word, she reached down and brushed a strand of hair from the boy’s forehead. Her hand lingered there, gentle, almost protective.
Then she closed her eyes.
A faint ripple of spiritual power swept outward.
A mont later, she opened them again.
"Kain," she said, "he’s not your first awakening candidate."
Kain blinked. "How can you tell?"
Serena turned to him, expression calm but firm. "Because you didn’t check the most obvious thing. He’s too young."
Kain frowned. "Too young?"
"To have a fully ford star space." Serena crossed her arms lightly. "He can’t be a tar yet, no matter how bright his fate thread is. Not until a few more years of growth. Unless—" her tone dipped, "—soone forcibly implants a core, like what was done to Gabriel."
In the Celestial Empire it’s called ’stars.’ In the Rising Sun Kingdom, ’suns.’ In the Southern Tribes, the ’blood core.’ Every country with beast tars, regardless of the differences in their cultivation style, will have one. Different nas, sa purpose: the vessel that houses contracts. Even most ordinary people, before learning they lack affinity, manage to form one. But this boy... doesn’t have anything yet.
Kain knelt beside her and checked for himself. Up close, the boy’s frailty was even more apparent: his limbs too thin, cheeks sunken, breath shallow from exhaustion rather than injury. Kain felt a strange tightness in his chest—anger at whoever had left a child to survive alone in a place like this.
Now that Serena pointed it out, the signs were obvious. The boy’s cultivation foundation wasn’t rely shallow—it was absent. Whether because of neglect, malnutrition, or his delayed intellectual developnt, he hadn’t even begun forming a vessel. He was far behind children of his age who, especially the top among them, would already have their star spaces saturated with energy and would begin focusing on condensing their first star.
"The only way to awaken him soon," Serena said quietly, "would be to implant an artificial core."
Kain stiffened. Gabriel’s pale face flashed in his mind. Especially the first hand accounts of the experints he’d seen in his mories. The screaming. The restraints. The Black Dawn’s cruelty.
Not an option.
He ran a hand down his face and groaned. "Right. Obviously. I knew that. I absolutely did not forget sothing this basic."
Serena raised one eyebrow.
Kain pointed vaguely at her. "Don’t say anything."
The corner of her lip twitched.
But then her expression shifted, examining Kain with a critical and cold gaze.
"By the way...when did I give you permission to sit on my bed? And where exactly are you planning to sleep tonight?"
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