Deep within the stone palace, Yan walked with heavy, burdened steps, one hand pressed against her stomach as though trying to comprehend the secret beginning to grow inside her. The air around her felt heavier than usual, and the candles lining the walls trembled beneath the touch of an unseen wind.
Suddenly, Yan stopped. She covered her mouth with one hand before bending forward violently, her body shaking as she vomited onto the cold stone floor. Sweat streamed down her brow, strands of her long blonde hair clinging to her face, while faint tears slipped from her trembling blue eyes.
She collapsed onto her knees, breathing with difficulty. Slowly, she placed her hand over her stomach once more and whispered in a hoarse voice:
"It has begun… the pulse… it is moving inside me."
At that moment, the nausea was no mere physical symptom. A strange sensation surged through her—an overwhelming feeling that she carried something heavier than life itself. Brief visions flashed across her mind: fire, blood, kneeling crowds, and a sky splitting apart as though the world itself were about to collapse.
Yet amidst all those terrifying images, there was also a tiny light… a faint warmth emanating from her womb, reminding her that what she carried was not only a curse, but hope as well.
The doors of the hall burst open as Dandyrn entered with hurried steps, his gleaming eyes capturing every detail around his mother. He saw Yan kneeling on the floor, her blonde hair damp with sweat, her pale features struggling to conceal the pain.
He rushed toward her like a child, yet his voice carried a weight far beyond his years—sharp, aware, and unsettlingly mature.
"Mother! Your face is pale… the pregnancy has begun, hasn't it?"
Yan lifted her head with effort and smiled despite her exhaustion. She brushed her hand gently across his small face.
"Yes, Dandyrn… it moves within me, as though all worlds awaken alongside it."
Dandyrn sat beside her and gripped her hand with surprising strength for someone so small.
"Then you must be more careful than ever before. From now on, every step you take is no longer yours alone, but his as well… the Boy of Prophecy."
Yan smiled weakly, tears mingling with the sweat upon her face.
"Even bound by your curse, you are wiser than all your siblings… you resemble your father when he gazed into the future with eyes no one else possessed."
Dandyrn tightened his grip on her hand and spoke calmly, not like a child, but like a man forged by destiny.
"I will protect you… and I will protect him. Even if my body is small, my mind is a weapon no one can ever take from me."
After an entire month of waiting for the black ravens Dandyrn had sent forth, the siblings finally gathered within the ancient hall of the mountain palace. The scene resembled a council of kings exiled by fate itself—each carrying a different curse, yet all bound beneath the shadow of Yan's blood.
Melin sat first, leaning against a massive chair as though her decaying body refused rest. Her face was eyeless, concealed beneath rotting flesh and dark robes, while corruption seeped from her fingertips—not like an illness, but like a weapon under her command.
Beside her sat Daner, his black curly hair falling over his pale blue face. His curse had drained the life from his blood since birth, leaving his body cold as stone. Yet thanks to Dandyrn's medicine, he had learned to command his dead blood, summoning it as a flowing crimson weapon around his hands. His eyes gleamed with lethal coldness, as though an empty body had become the vessel of another will.
Nearby stood Kashin, his short golden hair flickering every time sparks erupted from his body. He was a living storm of electricity, every breath accompanied by flashes of light. Yet the black metallic staff crafted by Dandyrn absorbed the violent surges and transformed them into power under his control. He laughed lightly, though the scent of thunder never left him.
Tor, meanwhile, was a monstrous mass of muscle barely contained within flesh. Even the slightest movement threatened to shatter bone and tear muscle apart, but the black runes Dandyrn had etched into his skin bound his body in terrifying balance. He looked like a beast chained by sorcery, each breath from him making the ground tremble beneath his feet.
And finally there was Aun, the youngest in appearance and the only one untouched by a curse. His face was calm, his smile gentle, making him appear more human than any of his siblings. Yet within his eyes burned a strange light—a fusion of Alif's purity and Yan's power—which drew the attention of them all.
At the center of them sat Dandyrn, his body still that of a child, yet unquestionably their leader. He looked at each of them in turn before speaking in a deep voice that clashed with his innocent appearance:
"Blood binds us… and curses shall not break us. From here, the war begins."
Kashin leaned back against his stone seat, his eyes veiled by the flickering lightning escaping from his body. Tilting his head toward his mother, he asked in a voice torn between recklessness and curiosity:
"Mother… why does Centaurus hate our family so deeply? What kind of hatred drives him to curse your children, one after another?"