“You’re awake now. That’s… interesting.”

The voice echoed through the void, sharp and commanding, yet carrying an undercurrent of amusement. I blinked, disoriented, as the endless expanse of darkness around me swirled with faint pinpricks of light.

“I want to hear it straight from your mouth,” the being continued, its tone unyielding. “I had to drag it out of Chronos. I’ve read your parents’ minds. I’ve seen the truths they hide. But I need to hear it from you.”

It felt as though those words reached into my very soul, dragging me into focus. The being’s presence was overwhelming, a pressure that wrapped around my mind like an unbreakable chain.

“You’re the first to awaken,” the voice pressed. “Your siblings will join us soon. So tell me—what kind of siblings are you? Will you rise together or fall apart?”

The void seemed to solidify, creating an invisible weight pressing down on me. Before I could muster a response, the being’s laugh shattered the silence—a deep, resonant sound that seemed to ripple through the cosmos like a dying star.

“What am I?” it mused, almost to itself. “A question asked by scholars and fools alike. Perhaps I’m an arbiter, a witness to the cycles of existence. A hand guiding entropy where it falters.” Its tone shifted, sharpening like the edge of a blade. “But that’s not what you truly want to know, is it?”

My body tensed as the weight of its gaze, unseen but palpable, bore down on me.

“You want to know why you’re still alive,” it continued. “Why I didn’t reduce you to cosmic dust like the mutant filth you survived.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely audible. “Yeah… why me?”

The being’s wings unfurled—twelve massive constructs of light and shadow adorned with glowing runes that pulsed with otherworldly energy. They stretched impossibly far, bending the void around them as if the cosmos itself bowed to their presence.

“Because,” it said, its voice resonating with an undeniable finality, “you’re an anomaly. A singularity in a universe that thrives on its supposed order. Your existence defies every rule it holds dear.”

“Anomaly?” I echoed, struggling to grasp the magnitude of its words.

The being leaned closer, though it didn’t truly move. Its presence simply… shifted, filling the space around me. “You’re rare. Your siblings are rare. Quadruplets in any sentient race are a rarity. Among humans, it’s remarkable enough. Among beings like you, it’s unheard of.”

“What does that even mean?” I demanded, the frustration in my voice betraying my confusion.

“You carry bloodlines that transcend mortal understanding,” it said, almost dismissively. “Twins are stronger than ordinary members of their race. Triplets more so. Quadruplets? Their potential is nearly limitless—especially when combined with your lineage.”

Its words made little sense, but before I could protest, the being’s attention shifted. “Turn your gaze, child. Look at your parents.”

Hesitant, I did as it commanded, my eyes drawn to the two figures hovering in the void. My breath—or whatever passed for it in this strange space—hitched. They weren’t just my parents. They were… something else entirely.

My father stood tall, his human form peeling away like ash blown by an unseen wind. Beneath it was a being cloaked in raw, elemental power. Storms raged across his skin, arcs of lightning crackling along his body. His eyes glowed a piercing silver, and his presence radiated an energy so intense it seemed to hum through the fabric of the void. Massive, feathered wings unfurled from his back—dark and primal, streaked with shimmering silver light.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Beside him, my mother’s transformation was no less stunning. Her human guise dissolved into shards of crystalline frost, revealing a figure draped in armor forged from glacial ice. Her hair flowed like liquid starlight, trailing mist with every movement, and her wings—ethereal constructs of ice and void energy—spread wide, their shimmering hues shifting between blue and silver. Her eyes burned with a cold fire, like frozen stars that could see through time itself.

“What—what are they?” I whispered, barely able to speak.

The being chuckled, its tone rich with amusement. “Now you begin to see. Your father, a Nephalem, forged in the storms of creation itself. Your mother, an Ice Void Dragon, a guardian of the frozen cosmos. Did you truly believe they were ordinary?”

“They never… they never seemed like this before,” I stammered, my mind reeling.

“They were dormant,” the being explained, its voice laced with condescension. “Hiding their true natures, even from themselves. But your awakening—this trial of survival—has forced the truth to the surface.”

I turned back to it, desperation creeping into my voice. “So… this is why we’re quadruplets? Because of them?”

The being tilted its head, considering me with an almost predatory curiosity. “Partly. Their union made you possible. But even that does not fully explain you. You and your siblings are not just rare—you are without precedent. You are the convergence of power and potential the universe has never seen.”

“Why can’t you just tell me what that means?”

It smirked, a grin I couldn’t see but could feel in the very marrow of my being. “Because, child, the truth is something you must earn. For now, focus on survival. You’ve barely scratched the surface of what it means to exist in this universe, let alone defy it.”

As if on cue, a ripple of energy surged through the void, sending shivers down my spine. My siblings’ forms began to coalesce beside me, faint outlines of their awakening selves.

“They’ll wake soon,” the being said, its voice heavy with warning. “And when they do, you will have to decide—what are you to each other? Will you rise together, or will you shatter under the weight of what lies ahead?”

Its words lingered as I turned back to my parents. Their forms, no longer hidden, stood as undeniable proof of the impossible. Whatever we were, whatever we were becoming, it was only the beginning.

The void pulsed with an almost melodic rhythm, the energy of my awakening beginning to ripple outward like a stone dropped into an endless sea. I could feel the presence of my siblings solidifying beside me. One of them stirred, a faint outline growing more vivid until the void itself seemed to twist and blur around him. His form came into sharp focus—a figure with sharp, calculating eyes that shimmered with a strange intensity, as if they saw more than the present reality.

He groaned, his hand instinctively going to his head as if warding off a headache. His first words were not what I expected.

“This isn’t right. None of this is right,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration and confusion. “Mother never survives the awakening. She’s supposed to die. And Father… he’s supposed to be captured and tortured for at least half a volume before breaking out. And the King? The King doesn’t show up for a thousand chapters!”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. “What are you talking about?”

He turned to me, his eyes narrowing as if he were seeing straight through me. “This isn’t one of my stories. This reality—it doesn’t fit. I would’ve remembered writing this!” He looked around, gesturing wildly at the void, his fingers crackling with energy that seemed to warp the space around us. “Where’s the darkness, the chaos, the tragedy? Mother’s supposed to fall in some noble sacrifice, and Father’s wings should be torn off in some horrifying experiment. This—” He waved at our parents, who were still standing in their magnificent forms. “This is all wrong!”

Our father raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as arcs of lightning danced along his skin. “And who, exactly, decided this reality is supposed to follow your script?”

Our mother, her icy presence radiating calm but undeniable power, chimed in, “Your imagination has always been your strength, but perhaps this time, it’s working against you.”

“Imagination?” my sibling snapped. “This isn’t imagination. It’s my ability. I write, and it happens. I project realities.” His voice grew sharper as he pointed a finger at them. “You—you’re supposed to be dead! You’re not even supposed to be some grand Ice Void Dragon or whatever that nonsense is.” He looked at our father, jabbing a finger in his direction. “And you—you’re supposed to be chained up in some lab, not glowing like a celestial storm god. Where’s the pathos? The suffering? The depth?”

He paused, looking at me for the first time. “And you! You’re supposed to die first.”

“Excuse me?” I shot back, incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re supposed to die first to create dramatic stakes. It’s standard narrative structure! The first sibling always bites it to show how serious things are. But no, here you are, alive and… smug.”

I couldn’t help the smirk creeping onto my face. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

He groaned, running his hands through his hair. “This is infuriating. How am I supposed to fix this if I didn’t even write it?!”