Sixteen Years Ago…
Ashford Castle — London, England
The night the heirs of Ashford were born, the world trembled.
High above the skies of London, beyond the sight of ordinary men, a crimson aurora bled across the heavens—vast, unnatural, and silent.
It flickered like a wound in reality itself… then vanished as though it had never been.
But within the walls of Ashford Castle—
There was only joy.
The great halls of the royal palace echoed with celebration. Bells rang across the kingdom, and flames danced brightly within golden chandeliers. Servants moved with haste, nobles gathered in excitement, and word spread like wildfire—
The royal bloodline had been secured.
Twin heirs had been born.
Inside the royal chambers, the atmosphere was softer.
Warmer.
Still.
A fire crackled gently in the hearth as two newborns lay in intricately crafted golden cradles, wrapped in silk. Their breathing was soft… peaceful… untouched by the weight of the world awaiting them.
Standing beside them was King Alistair Ashford, ruler of England and descendant of the ancient bloodline said to trace back to the legendary figure known only as Aegis—the forgotten hero of humanity.
Beside him, resting yet radiant, was Queen Evelyn Ashford.
Alistair looked down at the children, his expression softer than any had ever seen.
"What shall we name them… my love?"
Evelyn smiled faintly, exhaustion lining her face, yet her eyes filled with warmth as she reached toward the first child.
"The firstborn… strong… fierce…"
Her fingers brushed gently against the baby's cheek.
"Ronan."
Alistair let out a quiet chuckle.
"Ronan Ashford… a name that will echo through history."
He turned to the second child, whose presence felt… calmer.
Quieter.
Yet no less profound.
"And this one?"
Evelyn's gaze softened even further.
"Draven… Draven Ashford."
"A soul… touched by grace."
For a moment, the world felt complete.
Balanced.
Perfect.
But destiny had already begun to stir.
Weeks Later — The Presentation
The throne room of Ashford Castle glittered with grandeur.
Massive chandeliers illuminated the hall, banners of ancient victories hung proudly along the walls, and the most powerful figures of the kingdom stood assembled in perfect order.
Lords. Commanders. Nobles.
And among them—
Representatives of the GSSA.
At the grand entrance, King Alistair stepped forward as a familiar figure approached.
A tall man, sharp-eyed, draped in a black ceremonial cloak.
Alistair smiled.
"Akihiko… you came all the way from Japan."
The man returned the smile.
"There was no world in which I would miss this."
Akihiko Mori, President of the GSSA Japan branch, bowed slightly—but his grin carried the ease of an old friend.
They clasped hands.
For a brief moment, the weight of kingship faded… replaced by history.
One by one, others stepped forward.
Lady Isolde Fairfax, Commander of the Palace Guard
Lord Benedict Hawthorne, Head of the Royal Court
Sir Cedric Langley, President of GSSA England
"May these children grow strong enough to defend this world," Cedric said solemnly.
The King nodded.
But something in his eyes… lingered.
The Blessing
Then came the ritual.
A hush fell over the entire hall as Father Benedict, High Priest of the royal chapel, stepped forward.
This was no ordinary blessing.
This was a rite said to reveal the truth of one's soul.
He approached the twins.
First—
Draven.
The moment the priest's hand hovered above him—
Light.
A radiant glow burst forth, pure and blinding, filling the chamber with warmth. The very air seemed to hum with divinity.
Gasps echoed across the throne room.
Father Benedict smiled.
"This child… is blessed beyond measure."
"The divine watches over him."
Relief. Joy. Pride.
The room breathed again.
Then—
He turned to Ronan.
And everything changed.
The moment his hand neared the child—
He froze.
The warmth vanished.
A chill crept through the hall.
Within the infant…
Something stirred.
Not alive.
Not conscious.
But present.
Ancient.
Heavy.
The priest's hand trembled.
Sweat formed along his brow.
"…No…"
His voice barely escaped his lips.
"There is… something here…"
The light in the room dimmed.
"A Demon"
Silence.
Absolute.
Queen Evelyn instinctively stepped back, clutching Draven closer.
Her expression hardened instantly.
"What are you saying?"
The priest swallowed.
"It is faint… deeply buried… beyond ordinary perception…"
"But I have no doubt…"
He looked directly at the King.
"A presence of Monarch-level power… lies dormant within Prince Ronan."
The throne room erupted.
Fear.
Whispers.
Doubt.
"Impossible—"
"A demon?"
"In the royal bloodline?"
Evelyn's voice cut through the chaos.
"No."
Her eyes burned with fury.
"We will rid him of it. Immediately."
Tears welled in her eyes—but they were not of sorrow.
They were of fear.
But King Alistair…
Said nothing.
His gaze remained fixed on the child.
Not with fear.
But with something deeper.
Recognition.
Fragments of ancient stories resurfaced in his mind…
Tales of prophecy.
Of balance.
Of a power that would one day either save… or destroy everything.
Slowly, he spoke.
"…He is my son."
The room fell silent once more.
Outside the palace—
The sky darkened.
Far beyond human sight…
Something watched.
And somewhere in the unseen depths of existence—
A force long dormant… stirred in response.
Narration (Closing)
The war of the past had ended.
The gates between worlds had been sealed.
And humanity believed itself safe.
But fate…
Had already made its move.
A child had been born—
Carrying not a demon…
But the power of one.
And one day—
That power would decide the fate of all three realms.
The story of Ronan and Draven Ashford…
…had only just begun.