In a quiet valley nestled between gentle hills and ancient trees, a humble cottage bathed in moonlight stood as a beacon of warmth and life. Inside, the air was thick with anticipation. Cries of effort echoed from a small bedroom where a woman lay in labor, her brow damp, her hands clenched into the bed linens. Her husband knelt beside her, whispering gentle words, his face etched with concern.
The first cry came sharp and strong—a baby girl. The midwife, her hands worn from years of welcoming life into the world, cradled the newborn and passed her to the beaming father. The little one's face was red and wrinkled, her wails fierce and insistent.
Moments later, the second cry followed—a baby boy, just as loud, just as alive. The midwife cleaned him, swaddled him, and laid him beside his sister. As if recognizing each other through the veil of lifetimes past, the twins quieted. Their cries softened into small murmurs as their hands touched. The old midwife blinked in surprise—such awareness in newborns was rare. But she said nothing. The world was wide and full of mystery.
Another woman entered the room then, older, regal in her bearing despite the worn shawl on her shoulders. A young girl trailed behind her, eager and wide-eyed.
The mother, Elina, looked up through tired eyes. "Will they be okay, Nana?"
Nana smiled warmly and inspected the babies with a seasoned gaze. "Strong and healthy, both of them. The stars favor them tonight. What shall we call them?"
Elina looked at her husband, who nodded, eyes misty with joy. She turned back to the twins, her expression softening.
"For the boy... Lucian," she said with certainty. "And for the girl... Laila."
The names fell like blessings into the air.
But inside those tiny bodies, two souls stirred with quiet astonishment.
Arthur was now Lucian.
Morgan was now Laila.
They had been reborn—into a world of magic, mystery, and promise.
The days that followed passed like a dream. Soft golden sunlight filtered through the wooden slats of the cottage each morning, warming the floor and filling the air with the scent of herbs and baked bread. Birds called from the trees. Magic shimmered just beneath the surface of life—used not in grandeur, but in gestures small and sacred.
Elina was up each day before the rest, carrying both twins bundled in soft blankets as she went about her work. Her light brown hair, tinged with a fiery red that caught the morning sun, framed a face both young and worn with responsibility. She was only in her early twenties, but her aura was strong—capable, kind, protective.
In her arms, Lucian and Laila stared out at the world with wide, curious eyes. Too alert for infants, but nobody questioned it. Magic could do strange things to children, after all.
Their older sister, Rena, was already a ball of energy. Blonde hair streaked with black gave her a wild look, and her enthusiasm often got ahead of her judgment.
One morning, Elina caught Rena trying to light the hearth on her own.
"What in the Great Mother's name do you think you're doing, Rena?" she hissed in a sharp whisper, mindful not to wake the sleeping house.
"I just wanted to surprise you," Rena said, sheepishly. "I wanted the house to be warm."
Elina sighed, but her gaze softened. "My little bee, you have a good heart. But fire is no toy."
She gently ruffled Rena's hair and, with a flick of her fingers and a calm whisper—"Infiro"—the wood caught flame. The fire danced to life as though happy to serve her.
Watching from their cradle nearby, Lucian inhaled slowly, deeply, something instinctual taking root. He wasn't just watching magic—he was feeling it. Each breath synced with the pulse of the world around him. In his mind's eye, a glowing ember took shape deep in his chest, a core—small, red, pulsing gently.
He held the breath longer than a baby should have been able to, focusing, visualizing the energy around him flowing into that ember. The spark grew warmer, more stable, until it pulsed in rhythm with his breath.
Excited, he babbled and turned toward his sister.
"Laila, you've got to try this! I can feel something... like fire, but not just fire. It's life."
Laila, curious as ever, mirrored his breathing, slower, softer, like the tides under the moonlight. Her core didn't burn—it glowed. Silvery-blue, cool and tranquil, expanding with each inhale, steadying with each exhale.
Together, they discovered the first hints of the techniques that would define them.
Lucian's breathing was Solar—bright, energizing, bold. It charged his cells, pulled the heat of the world into him, making his aura feel like rising sunfire.
Laila's breathing was Lunar—fluid, patient, and balanced. It calmed the noise of the world and allowed her to listen to magic rather than dominate it.
By the end of the first week, they had shaped these rhythms into foundations—techniques that, though primitive now, would grow into forces that shaped nations.
The rest of the household remained unaware. Their father, Apollo, was a quiet man who practiced water magic with calm precision. Their older siblings—Tista, Hades, and Trion—were already learning trades, helping around the cottage and the nearby village.
Magic, they learned quickly, wasn't rare in this world—it was expected. Used to clean dishes, chop wood, or summon wind to sweep the dust out the door. Elina could command a breeze with a word—Brezza—or dispel earth with a flick and a muttered Magna.
To Lucian and Laila, this world felt like a dream. A place of raw, living potential. They were reborn, yes—but not as helpless infants. They were seedlings of something greater, still rooted in human form, but destined to become something far more.
On the seventh night, as stars shimmered through the high window above their crib, the twins stared at each other. No words passed between them—only breath.
Lucian's breath: deep, radiant, like sunrise over mountains.
Laila's breath: slow, silent, like moonlight on still water.
They didn't yet know what path they would walk, or what dangers awaited them in this world.
But one truth had already been written in their souls:
They were no longer Arthur and Morgan.
They were Lucian and Laila.
Born of fire and shadow.
Solar and Lunar.
And their legend had just begun.