The city of Thembaol breathed slowly that night.
Lanterns flickered along narrow stone streets. From taverns came the dull murmur of voices, the clink of cups, the smell of roasted meat and burnt oil drifting through the cool air. Far above the city roofs, the palace towers stood quiet and cold, like watchful giants that had seen too many secrets.
And above them all… the Blue Moon hung in the sky.
It was the kind of moon people tried not to look at for too long.
Old women in the markets said strange things happened under a Blue Moon. Midwives whispered about births that should never happen. Guards laughed at those stories in daylight… but on nights like this, even they spoke a little softer.
High on a palace balcony, something watched the city.
A green cat sat still against the pale stone railing, its tail curled neatly around its paws. The moonlight turned its fur almost silver, but its eyes—those strange, glowing eyes—remained a deep emerald.
The cat blinked slowly.
Somewhere inside the palace… a child had just been born.
Inside the chambers of the First Queen, the air smelled of herbs, sweat, and candle smoke.
Queen Mary Anne held her newborn close to her chest. Her hands trembled slightly, though the room had already grown quiet. The midwives had finished their work. The servants had been dismissed.
Only the soft crackle of candles remained.
She looked down at the child in her arms.
"Moses," she whispered.
The boy squirmed weakly, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric of her gown. His eyes were barely open, dark and unfocused, yet strangely calm for a newborn.
Mary Anne pressed her lips against his forehead.
But her heart was racing.
Because she knew something no one else in the palace must ever know.
Moses had been born on the 15th of February.
In Thembaol, that date was feared more than storms, more than war, more than famine.
It was called the Day of the Flood.
And every child born on that day… especially those marked by the sign of Aquarius… was condemned by royal decree.
Such children were believed to bring weakness to the throne. Chaos to the kingdom.
So the law was simple.
They were to be killed before sunrise.
Mary Anne's grip tightened around the child.
"No," she whispered quietly to herself.
Outside the chamber doors, guards stood unaware. Servants moved through corridors carrying linens and water. Somewhere deeper in the palace, one of the other queens laughed loudly at some private joke.
Life continued.
But inside this room, a quiet lie was already being born.
Mary Anne would tell them the child came after midnight.
The 16th of February.
One day could mean the difference between a prince… and a corpse.
The baby stirred.
For a moment, his tiny eyes opened slightly wider.
They did not see the palace.
They did not see the candles.
But something in the room felt… aware.
Mary Anne noticed it too.
She gently pulled the blanket back and glanced at his small wrist.
There it was.
A faint curving birthmark, barely visible in the candlelight.
The mark of Aquarius.
In the kingdom of Thembaol, that mark meant the lowest of the low.
Below warriors.
Below scholars.
Below even the common-born servants.
Aquarius were said to be thinkers. Dreamers. Strange minds that wandered where they shouldn't.
Not rulers.
Never rulers.
Mary Anne stared at the mark for a long moment.
Then she slowly covered it again.
"Let them think what they want," she murmured.
Outside, the green cat lifted its head slightly.
The Blue Moon reflected in its eyes like twin flames.
The city continued to sleep, unaware that somewhere inside the palace walls… a child had just been born who would one day change everything.
The kingdom of Thembaol believed an Aquarius could never wear a crown.
But kingdoms had been wrong before.
And they would be wrong again.