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At six years old, Janus Ragnos bears the weight of impossible destinies. Born to a mother of tainted Netniem blood within the sacred halls of House Azure, his very existence threatens the delicate balance of the Shattered Empire. When the First Baptism ceremony plunges him into the depths of the Hells, he emerges not just marked, but crowned with a white-gold torq—a symbol of power unseen for centuries. Plagued by visions of futures he cannot control and hunted by those who fear what he might become, Janus must navigate a deadly maze of politics and prophecy. As rival houses plot from the shadows and the Hells whisper their dark promises, he faces a choice: confront the monstrous truth of his heritage, or let it consume him.
Memories spill from my mind like dross, unbound by the sequence of time.
Each flash seemingly more vivid than the last, a collision of past, present, and moments yet to unfold. Through the dark water, hair-like roots twist and writhe, their embedded eyes watching, unblinking. My own eyes burn for the sight of them, and, for an instant, the pain is fiercer than the ache in my chest.
Too many. Much too many for such a short life.
I am only six.
They float above me like the bubbles of air that have already escaped my mouth, brighter than the purple-azure light filtering through Nenuphar's floating blooms. My vision blurs, then I am thrust back to the darkness of my birth, an event marked by pain and a desperate struggle for life. It is a memory enveloped in shadows, a room devoid of warmth, where my first cries were swallowed by the throbbing light.
Then, just as swiftly, my mind catapults forward. I see glimpses of impossibly bright stars, fragmented and disjointed from squinted eyes. My lungs burn as horror seeps into my bones. Images flicker: a glowing figure, a floating citadel, a sky torn asunder.
Amidst this temporal chaos, a constant remains—the sensation of pain. It binds these disparate times together until I remember...
I remember everything.
