Years passed, Alexander was a boy born of noble blood, yet there was something almost unnatural about his presence. With golden hair that shimmered like molten sunlight and piercing red eyes that carried the weight of something far beyond his years, he was the perfect blend of his parents—Axel's imposing aura and Lila's quiet intensity.
From the moment he took his first breath, it was as if he had already claimed the world as his own. He did not cry like other infants; he merely observed, his gaze unblinking, his tiny fingers curling around his father's as if testing his strength.
As he grew, it became clear that Alexander was not an ordinary child. He was eerily composed, never prone to tantrums or childish whims. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his words were deliberate, carefully measured. His intelligence was undeniable, but it was his awareness—his unnerving ability to read people—that unsettled even the most seasoned knights and advisors.
