Void didn't cry.
He hadn't screamed when he was born, hadn't thrashed, hadn't wailed like a creature thrust violently into a world of noise and air. He'd looked around, blinked once—slow, calculating—and then gone quiet. Eerily quiet.
Not the stillness of sleep. The stillness of something watching.
Even now, as the early morning light bled into the nursery through soft linen curtains, he stared at the ceiling like he could see past it—through the roof, through the sky, straight into the bones of the world itself.
Anna entered barefoot, her long robe brushing across the polished floor. She moved like someone who'd fought death once and decided she was too busy to die. She was still pale from the delivery, but her eyes held a simmering steel that made most men twice her size and thrice her age speak carefully in her presence.
She looked down into the cradle. Void didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just stared.
"Hey, kiddo," she muttered, brushing a hand across his absurdly cold forehead. "You gonna keep pretending you're too important to exist? Or are you actually this weird?"
Void blinked once. The corner of his mouth curled upward just slightly, not quite a smile. More like a warning.
Anna snorted. "Creepy little thing," she said, scooping him up with a grunt. "Let's get you fed before you decide to devour the house."
She moved toward the long couch near the hearth, where Resker sat hunched over a table strewn with maps and notes. He looked up when she entered, his expression a mix of exhaustion and tightly wound nerves. His fingers were stained with ink and stress.
"I was hoping you'd sleep longer," he said quietly.
"Please," Anna muttered, settling into the couch and adjusting Void. "You know I don't sleep when you're making that face. What's wrong now?"
Resker sighed, rubbing at his jaw. "The warriors from the western border arrived last night. They say the Ranjits have already moved into the lower hills. They're setting up camps. Claiming trade routes. Acting like they own the place."
Anna glanced at him, then at the baby, who was now feeding without blinking—still watching Resker like a disappointed manager.
"So what are you thinking?" she asked.
"I'm thinking," Resker said, "we can't beat them head-on. They've got reinforcements coming. If we stand and fight now, we lose the estate… maybe everything."
Anna looked him dead in the eyes. "Then don't fight them."
Resker blinked. "What?"
"We let them think we're giving up," she said, calm as a storm in the distance. "Pack the estate. Whisper rumors. Let the servants whine about how cowardly we are. Spread it through the market. Let the city mock us. Make the Ranjits relax."
Resker furrowed his brow. "You want to fake a retreat?"
"I want to gut them from the inside," Anna said. "While they celebrate, we slip in. Sabotage. Steal. Train. Every copper they spend will feed our soldiers. Every bite of food will fuel our revenge. We'll raise knights beneath their noses. And when we're strong enough, we'll take it all back."
There was a pause.
Resker leaned back and exhaled slowly. "You terrify me."
"You married me, dumbass."
He chuckled under his breath, then leaned over to kiss her cheek.
"Brilliant plan, sweetheart," he said. "Really. I'll summon Lucius and get things moving. We'll keep the real strategy between the three of us."
As he stood, Anna waved him off. "Good. Now go. I need to finish feeding our weird, all-knowing, soul-piercing child before he decides to age ten years and start asking me about the laws of causality."
Resker gave a mock salute and left the room.
Void's gaze followed him until the door shut.
Elsewhere in the Estate – 20 Minutes Later
Lucius stood at attention in the study, tall and clad in layered steel, his expression neutral but eyes sharp as ever. A man born to stab things in the face with poetic precision.
"You called for me, Master?" he asked.
Resker, now behind his desk, looked up and nodded. "We're executing a misdirection strategy. You'll hear rumors soon—we're faking a retreat."
Lucius didn't blink. "Understood."
"I want you to make it look convincing. Start letting supplies disappear. Leak plans. Even let a few servants quit, if it adds realism. But only you and I know the truth."
Lucius's mouth twitched, just barely. "And Lady Anna?"
Resker gave a half-smile. "The plan was her idea."
Lucius nodded slowly. "Of course it was."
"One more thing," Resker added. "Let the city laugh. Let them call us cowards. The more the Ranjits relax, the sweeter it'll be when they realize their own new tenants are preparing for war."
Lucius bowed. "I'll begin immediately."
As the commander left the room, Resker glanced back at the closed nursery door.
There was power in that room. Not just Anna.
The child.
Void.
Resker didn't know what his son would become. Only that something ancient had returned, wrapped in flesh and silence, with eyes that didn't belong to a child.
And for the first time in a very long while, he didn't know whether that was a blessing or a curse.