Neonatal Rain Sunbringer is the son of the 46th incarnation of the Thorneborn, Heartline Sunbringer. He is also the Imperial Regent, the absolute ruler of the Imperdom, the empire of the world. His father gave him that role before he died. And for the last 13 years, he ruled Imperdom waiting for his father's diviners to find the next Thorneborn. Thus, the letter he is reading from Mage Deron Reran causes his hand to shake.
“Lilly” He shouted.
“Pardon, my lord?” Said a maid beside him.
“Call the parriarchy of the imperial houses, all 45 of them. The emperor has returned.” He spoke.
“Yes, My lord.” She said and bowed.
Thus, they gather all 46 rulers of the world—the most powerful men and women of Imperdom. And at the front of them, kneeling before him, are Divine Nobles. The Divine Nobles are the most remarkable houses of the imperial nobles. Only those of the three houses before him and the Imperdex Diviners hold that title. Not even Neonatal the Imperial Regent can claim himself a divine noble.
“My, my. Deron has finally done his job. Regent.” Said the Matriarch of the 34th house: Lady Mingus Bee Blackturtles, descendants from the 34th incarnation of Thorneborn, Keno Rat Blackturtles.
Neonatal sigh, the Blackturtles care little for his authority.
“Ha Ha Ha… Well, Neonatal, how do you feel having your days number? Soon you be out of a job. If you survive the transition.” Said the Patriarch of the 13th house—Lord Kind Tigherfang, descendants from the 13th incarnation of Thorneborn, Peace Tigherfang.
The Tigherfang was disrespectful as ever, he thought.
“Idiots, be quiet. You kneel before the Imperial Regent, representative of the Thorneborn.” Said the Patriarch of the 1st house, Blanche Di Phoenixwright, descendants from the eternal emperor himself. May the Formless bless his name.
Zealots, as always thought Neonatal.
“Mage Deron Reran, an Imperdex Diviner, wishes to raise a candidate to sit on the obsidian throne. Lords, Ladies, and Lieges of the parriarchy prepare. May Imperdom prosper.” He spoke.
And 45 voices echo. “May Imperdom prosper, indeed.”
Neonatal watch them leave. It has begun. He had much to do.
“Lilly, summon soul-bound Keith.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The golden eye boy bows before Neonatal as he sits on a small wooden chair next to an extremely large pitch-black obsidian throne. The throne looks like an abyss that swallows all around it.
“Keith, your master is coming. Prepare. Gather the four other soul-bound from the continental Kings.”
Keith looks excited. And spoke. “Yes, my lord."
The golden eye boy runs with amusement to complete his task.
Neonatal stood silently on the balcony overlooking the sprawling imperial city, lost in thought about the monumental events now in motion.
Somewhere out there, the 47th incarnation of the eternal Thorneborn Emperor had been found after 13 long years of searching. Even now, the Imperial Protectors of the legendary 47th House were doubtless riding hard to bring the newly awakened god-ruler here to the imperial capital and the awaiting Obsidian Throne.
The return of the prophesied emperor would reshape the balance of powers across the four kingdoms. As Imperial Regent, Neonatal had enjoyed immense authority in his father's stead. But once the true Thorneborn was crowned, Neonatal's indisputable rule would end.
Many speculated what fate awaited previous regents once their prophesied master returned. Some were retained as trusted advisors. Others executed swiftly as potential threats. Only the Formless knew a regent's destiny when the long-awaited emperor reclaimed the throne.
Neonatal harbored no illusions about grasping hold of power himself. That had never been his ambition. No, he was simply the latest in a long line of temporary stewards upholding order until the Thorneborn incarnated again.
He only prayed the new god-emperor proved wise and just, merciful enough to allow Neonatal's continued counsel for a peaceful transition. The Imperial Houses were already circling like vultures, eager to insinuate themselves into the new regime by any means necessary. Their lust for influence must be checked before it poisoned the emperor's mind.
A cold wind stirred Neonatal from his brooding. Glancing up, he saw the glowing form of his lifelong companion, the spirit Keleos, perched nearby.
"You fret needlessly," Keleos admonished in his raspy voice. "Fate ever unfolds as is meant to be. You have served faithfully in your stewardship. Now comes the time to rest."
Neonatal managed a small smile, comforted by his old friend's wisdom. Whatever destiny held in store, he had done his duty to the best of his abilities when called upon. That was enough.
With a heavy heart, he whispered one last prayer to the Formless - not for himself, but for the innocent young emperor now being ushered onto the Obsidian Throne, so very unprepared for the deadly machinations already churning around his rule.
Gods help the boy and steer him from ruin. The future pivoted on his young shoulders whether he willed it or not.
***
Keith hurried through the winding halls of the imperial palace, his heart racing with each step. The time had finally come. His master was returning at last to take the Obsidian Throne! Keith could barely contain his elation.
Bursting into the chamber housing the ancient Thornebonder, a mystical device capable of sending messages across vast distances, Keith quickly composed his announcement for the four other soul-bound children bound to the elemental kings.
Menadue of Monk, Gideon of Ren, Amara of Joon, and Jasper of Elden shared Keith's blessing and curse of having souls judged worthy enough to potentially house the Thorneborn's spirit. Now they must come to welcome and serve the new master.
Their elemental kings would be loath to relinquish their prized soul-bound retainers, even at the Thorneborn's command. But the ancient covenant could not be denied. Where the Thorneborn ruled supreme, the soul-bound followed, no matter the kings' protests.
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Broadcasting his message through the Thornebonder in a great pulse of violet light, Keith stood back and awaited replies. One by one, the other soul-bound children's essences flared in acknowledgment across the vast ether.
They had spent their lives bound to the elemental kings' courts as both treasured assets and prisoners. Now fate called them to a new master and uncertain future. For Aeron, each would brave any peril.
At last, the promised time had come. And his fellow blessed and cursed soul-bound children would gather under Aeron's divine banner and stand together to welcome the return of the eternal emperor. A new age was dawning for them all and the realms. Keith could scarcely wait to greet his liege. Destiny was calling.
***
Menadue gazed into the shimmering scrying pool, struggling to process the momentous news she had just received from Keith. The Thorneborn emperor had returned. Even now, the legendary 47th House Protectors rode to retrieve the awakened god-ruler and escort him to the Imperial capital.
Keith's excited summons still echoed in Menadue's mind. As one of the five soul-bound children, she was compelled by an ancient covenant to come to serve the reincarnated Thorneborn along with the others. The elemental kings may protest losing their prized assets, but none could deny Thorneborn's supreme claim.
Menadue shuddered, conflicting emotions swirling within her. All her life, she had waited alone in this chamber, bound to the service of King Monkland as both a cherished tool and captive. Her sole purpose had been relaying the king's encrypted messages, never knowing the wider world beyond these walls.
And now fate called her to a profound new destiny at the side of an awakened immortal emperor. It was almost too staggering to grasp. She had never imagined leaving her cloistered existence or the only kingdom she had ever known.
A small thrill of exhilaration pierced Menadue's trepidation. No matter how daunting, this was also a chance for freedom from the endless, confined days spent kneeling over the scrying pool under King Monkland's total authority. The wider realms awaited beyond this gilded prison.
Drawing a steadying breath, Menadue touched gentle fingers to the shimmering waters. She was but a raindrop following the flowing currents of destiny now, wherever they chose to carry her. Frightening though it was, she must answer Keith's summons and her ordained purpose when the new master called.
No matter what awaited, she would face it with courage. She was no longer just a voice echoing commands across the ether. Aeron's arrival heralded a bold new era. Wherever the eternal emperor led, Menadue knew she must follow.
***
Amara knelt motionless before the crystalline scrying pool, struggling to calm her racing thoughts. Keith's urgent summons threatened to undo years of disciplined training under her domain's exacting tutors.
Amara had been rigorously prepared for this day as soul-bound to the enigmatic Queen Joon since childhood - to serve the reawakened Thorneborn emperor alongside her fellow marked children.
Yet she had never expected that day actually to arrive. Lost in detached intellectual pursuits, Amara had almost forgotten that the outside realms existed. Now, she was expected to leave her cloistered scholastic paradise for the unknown.
Fear and excitement dueled within her. She had studied every scrap of lore concerning the Thorneborn, hungry to understand this supposed god emperor she was bound to. But the theory was a poor substitute for directly serving the awakened immortal.
And if Keith spoke the truth, that awe-inspiring moment was at hand. Amara knew with utmost certainty that she would devote herself wholly to Thorneborn's reign, no matter where it led her. An empirical intellect bowed only to divine proven truth, and the emperor's return was the ultimate proof that every prophecy rang true.
Bowing her head, Amara silently repeated the soul-bound oath burned into her mind since childhood - pledge of fidelity forevermore to the eternal emperor, above all else. She was ready. No matter Queen Joon's displeasure at losing her, Amara knew she must depart for this epochal reunion. Mind clear, she rose gracefully and turned toward the throne room. The awakened master called her. She would not hesitate to answer. Destiny awaited, tantalizing in its infinite possibility. Amara went to meet it with open eyes.
***
Jasper hurried through the mist-shrouded forest, his thoughts in turmoil. As soul-bound to the enigmatic elemental King Elden, the summons from Keith should have filled him with purposeful excitement. Instead, it only strengthened Jasper's simmering doubts.
Was pledging himself blindly to some awakened prophesied emperor truly his fate? What did Jasper even know of this Thorneborn beyond myths and whispers?
Pausing by a burbling stream, Jasper shut his eyes and tried calming his racing mind. He was grateful for King Elden's guidance all these years. But doubts had plagued him lately whether this supposed immortal ruler would prove as wise or worthy.
Jasper opened his eyes, gazing at his reflection in the shimmering pool. Looking back at him, there was the same uncertainty he had seen growing for some time now.
With a sigh, Jasper rose and continued on. His personal misgivings mattered little, in truth. The ancient covenant compelled his obedience, whatever emerged. He could only place his faith in destiny's grand design and this Thorneborn's benevolence.
But faith had never come; he to Jasper. Too many shadows obscured the path ahead. He would proceed with eyes open and blade close, ready to defend innocents if this awakened emperor proved himself unjust. Protect them, he would, no matter what anthiers claimed written in the stars.
Jasper had sworn no binding oaths beyond his conscience. And he answered only to his sense of right. If this Thorneborn overstepped, he would face Jasper in swift opposition. Destiny falls as it may.
Striding from the forest toward Elden's misty stronghold, Jasper felt calmer, his course set. He would meet this awakened god-ruler clear-eyed and judge for himself whether fealty or resistance was warranted. The choice lay with the Thorneborn now - justice or judgment. Jasper feared only the Formless above all.
***
Pain. That was all Aeron could process as chaos erupted around him. The shouts and cries melded into a deafening din as blood streamed from his head into his eyes. He must have been struck from behind before he even realized the ambush was upon them.
The last thing Aeron recalled was walking down the castle corridor with Deron and his Protector guard. They had been discussing the plan for Aeron's formal emergence to claim the imperial throne. He had felt only numb apprehension about the whole thing. None of it seemed real still; just roles thrust upon him by unseen powers.
Then a flash of steel and everything became a nightmarish blur of bodies crashing and blades swinging. The Protectors roared fury against an unseen assailant. Aeron stumbled, his head exploding with white-hot agony as blood poured down his face.
He collapsed, his cheek impacting the cold stone floor. Everything sounded muffled and far away now. Gathering his fading strength, Aeron lifted his head and tried to call out but only managed a weak cough. His eyes blurred red as blood seeped into them. He blinked, vision going dark, not knowing if this was the end.
Voices swam in and out around him. Aeron felt himself being lifted by strong arms. A violent roar somewhere close by was abruptly silenced. Then Deron's stern face loomed over him, shouting words Aeron could not understand. He felt himself being shaken as Deron's visage twisted in a fury. But darkness was closing in fast, drawing Aeron down into its embrace, away from the agony and fear.
He surrendered willingly, ready to embrace oblivion. But just before the last flicker of light vanished, Aeron gazed up once more at Deron's scarred and weathered face. And in that fleeting moment, the mage's expression transformed from rage into an awestruck smile. "Yes, arise, mighty Thorneborn!" Deron cried exultantly. "Let all now bear witness!"
Then darkness took Aeron into its sheltering arms, and he knew no more.
Aeron awoke slowly, blinking in the dim firelight. He was lying on a soft bed in an unfamiliar chamber. His head throbbed sharply, but his thoughts felt hazy and indistinct.
"Awake at last, your Eminence."
That stern voice could only be Deron's. Aeron tried turning his head toward it, wincing at even that slight motion. "What...what happened?" he rasped.
"Assassins in the palace," Deron replied, disgust dripping from each word. "Deceit runs rampant even within these walls, more now that the realm knows their rightful emperor has returned."
Memory gradually filtered back to Aeron - the calm walk, chaos, and blood. "The ambush," he murmured. Gingerly, he reached up and felt thick bandages wrapped around his head.
"The cowards struck from hiding," Deron spat. "But we thwarted them, have no fear." His craggy face loomed over Aeron, eyes boring intensely into him. " Your Eminence...your ordeal appears to have awakened something deep within."
Aeron frowned, confused. Deron smiled and held up a silver platter. "Behold yourself."
Heart quickening anxiously, Aeron gazed into the platter's polished surface. The face staring back at him was his own, yet changed. No longer did Aeron's eyes hold their youthful brown hue. Instead, they shone a luminous, piercing gold.
Deron gripped his shoulder tightly. "The mark of the Thorneborn emerges! Now none can deny your lineage and divine right to rule!" His fierce joy frightened Aeron even through his disoriented state.
"This is but the first step in your ascent," Deron continued, savoring each word. "Soon, all true power will be restored to you."
Aeron only shrank into his bed, unnerved. He lifted a hand to gingerly touch below his now golden eyes, this supposed sign of destiny made manifest. All he felt was a pounding ache in his head and heart.
Whatever grand future others proclaimed for him, Aeron simply wished to be home again with family, waking each morning to daily fields and chores, not looming decisions over realms and signs of fabled legacies. But it seemed that innocent life was now gone forever. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, or so the saying went. Aeron had never felt its weight more than this moment.