Chapter 2788: Story 2789: The Daughter Before the Sons

“The First Daughter.”

Seratha’s whisper trembled through the chamber.

Lyra turned toward her. “What does that mean?”

The woman beneath the stars pressed both hands against the invisible surface. Her face was younger than Lyra remembered from childhood portraits, yet the sorrow in her eyes belonged to someone who had watched entire worlds perish.

“Mother,” Lyra whispered.

Seratha shook her head, tears running down her pale cheeks.

“I buried you before you were born.”

The forgotten child stopped emerging from Ronan’s chest.

Even the creature beyond the door became motionless.

“You remember now,” it said, its voice suddenly cold. “The daughter you sacrificed to hide your betrayal.”

Seratha rose unsteadily.

“I sacrificed nothing willingly.”

“You gave her name to the darkness. You gave her future to the prison. You chose five sons and abandoned the child who came before them.”

Lyra stared at Seratha.

“Is it true?”

The First Mother reached toward her, but Lyra stepped away.

“I need an answer!”

Seratha’s hands fell to her sides.

“You were the first child born from his heart,” she confessed. “Before Elias, before Aren, before Darian, before Ronan. You could hear the names of the dead, and through you, they could return to life.”

The woman beneath the stars smiled sadly.

“But Father feared what I could remember,” she said. “So he erased me.”

The creature’s empty eyes blazed.

“Silence!”

The entire chamber convulsed. The sea of stars beneath their feet began collapsing into a whirlpool of black fire. Faces vanished by the thousands, their final cries echoing through the mountain.

Lyra rushed toward the opening.

“Mother!”

The woman shook her head.

“Not yet. If you remember everything, he will find you.”

“Who?”

The woman looked beyond Lyra, directly at Ronan.

“The one who was born after creation ended.”

Ronan felt the forgotten child recoil inside him.

No. There were only five.

A sixth heartbeat answered.

It came from somewhere beneath the stars.

The creature backed away from the golden doorway, and for the first time, its expression revealed genuine terror.

Seratha saw it too.

“Oh, merciful darkness,” she whispered. “We were wrong.”

The Firstborn struggled against the broken golden chains. “Wrong about what?”

“Five cradles,” Seratha answered. “Five children. Five names.”

Her gaze fixed on Lyra.

“But there was never meant to be a sixth.”

The stars split apart.

Something rose from the abyss, wrapped in a cocoon of black roots and silver chains. Its shape resembled a child, but its limbs were too long, its skin covered in countless moving names.

As it climbed, the faces beneath the stars began screaming one word.

“Brother.”

Ronan’s sword fell from his hand.

He recognized the voice that came from inside the cocoon.

It was his own.

The forgotten child began pounding against the walls of Ronan’s heart.

Kill it before it wakes!

Lyra stood frozen as the cocoon cracked.

A small hand emerged, followed by a face identical to Ronan’s—except this child possessed six golden eyes.

The ancient creature dropped to its knees.

“My first mistake,” it whispered.

The child opened all six eyes.

Then it looked at Ronan and smiled.

“My brother,” it said, “why did you leave me alone at the beginning of time?”

Ronan could not breathe.

Because he remembered.

He had not refused to become the heart that held creation together.

He had refused because he had already used that heart to kill this child once before.