Chapter 2786: Story 2787: The Son Who Was Stolen

Seratha’s heart pulsed in her trembling hands.

It was small enough to fit between her palms, yet its crimson light illuminated the entire throne room. Within its surface, Ronan saw impossible images: a newborn child beneath a black sky, five cradles surrounding a golden throne, and a woman weeping over a body that had no face.

Then he saw himself.

Not the warrior he had become, but a child wrapped in white cloth, sleeping beside a second infant whose chest glowed with golden fire.

“Which one was I?” Ronan whispered.

Seratha could not answer.

The creature beyond the door extended its pale hand.

“My son,” it repeated. “Come home.”

The crown tightened. Ronan’s knees struck the stone, and his sword slipped from his fingers. A golden thread emerged from his chest, stretching toward the creature like a living vein.

Inside his mind, the forgotten child began to cry.

It isn’t calling you.

“What?”

It’s calling me.

Ronan felt the boy struggling beneath his ribs, pushing against the walls of his heart. The third heartbeat grew louder, shaking his bones.

Seratha stepped forward, holding out her stolen heart.

“I took you from him,” she confessed. “You were not meant to be born into this world. He had chosen you before you possessed a name.”

The creature’s empty eyes narrowed.

“You promised me five sons.”

“I promised you nothing!” Seratha screamed. “You wanted children who would never disobey you. You wanted to divide their souls, erase their memories, and make them eternal prisoners inside your own creation.”

“And you answered by stealing my youngest.”

“I answered by saving him.”

The creature’s smile vanished.

The golden thread snapped taut.

Ronan screamed as something tore through his chest—not flesh, but memory. He saw himself standing before the creature in another age, wearing the crown of white bone. Behind him stood four brothers, their faces hidden by darkness.

The creature knelt before him.

“Take my name,” it had begged. “Become the heart that holds creation together.”

And the crowned Ronan had answered, “I would rather die.”

The vision shattered.

Ronan collapsed, gasping.

The Firstborn stared at him with horror. “You remember.”

“No,” Ronan rasped. “I remember refusing.”

Seratha’s expression crumpled.

“That refusal began the first war.”

Suddenly, the heart in her hands beat once.

The creature shrieked.

Every golden chain in the chamber broke. Elias was thrown against a pillar. Aren caught Darian before the boy struck the ground, while the Firstborn lunged toward Ronan.

Too late.

A second hand emerged from Ronan’s chest, pale fingers spreading through the torn fabric. It seized Seratha’s glowing heart and pulled.

She resisted, sobbing, but the heart flew from her grasp and entered Ronan’s body.

The chamber erupted in crimson light.

The crown cracked down the middle.

For the first time, the creature beyond the door stepped backward.

Ronan rose slowly. His eyes shone gold, but beneath the light, something red watched from the depths.

The forgotten child spoke through his mouth.

“You took my name.”

The creature trembled.

“You took my childhood. You made Mother bury me beneath the world.”

Ronan lifted his sword.

“But you made one mistake.”

The creature’s empty eyes fixed upon him.

The boy smiled through Ronan’s face.

“You taught me how to hate my father.”