Three days.
That's how long Daelya Velzorah had been walking and wandering from one city to another. From one face to the next. Trying to disappear in a kingdom that now hunted her blood.
Her feet were blistered, her lips dry, and her cloak torn. But none of that mattered. What mattered was survival, for her… and the life growing inside her.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
She knew people, friends, allies, and old faces from noble houses. But who could she trust? Who hadn't turned? Who hadn't been bought or threatened or silenced?
She couldn't risk it. Even her closest friends could be watched. If she reached out to anyone, they could die too.
So she stayed silent. Hidden from the world, Daelya Velzorah was dead. And she had to stay that way.
"..."
"..."
It was late on the third day when she finally reached Varnmoor, a quiet city near the northern hills. The air was cold, and her strength was nearly gone.
She knocked on the doors of inns and taverns.
Each time, the same answer:
"No rooms." "We're full." "Try the brothel down the road."
She tried. Gods knew she tried. Even the brothels were packed with soldiers and travelers. No one wanted a pregnant woman with no name and big belly.
She found a corner behind a bakery and tried to rest, but the smell of fresh bread only reminded her how hungry she was. She couldn't sleep out there. Not in this cold. Not in her condition.
Then she heard them, two drunk boys talking near a vendor's stall:
"...A cave up the hill, you know? Near the trees. I used to sleep there when I ran away from home." "Ugh, not that place. It's cursed, they say." "Better cursed than freezing on stone."
Her ears perked. A cave, it was something, it was shelter.
She climbed slowly, every step was a battle and every breath was heavier. The path was steep and rough. Her back ached. Her legs shook. She slipped once and cried out, grabbing a rock for balance. But she didn't stop.
By the time she reached the entrance of the cave, the sky was already dark.
And then it appeared.
The red comet.
It blazed across the sky like a wounded heaven. A massive streak of fire, blood-red and beautiful and terrifying all at once. It lit up the whole hill in a deep red glow, making the cave walls glow..
Daelya stared at it, trembling. "No… not now. Please… not now."
But the pain in her stomach didn't care.
The child was coming. Right there, in the cold silence of the cave, Daelya collapsed onto the stone floor, screaming into the night.
Hours passed. The wind howled outside.
But inside, there was silence.
Then the cry of a newborn echoed through the cave.
A boy.
With silver-blonde hair… Unusual, unique, small, strong, loud. His first scream sent chills down Daelya's spine. Not out of fear, but that of hope.
A faint birthmark with the shape of a dragon appears on his chest
She wrapped him in her torn cloak, held him close, and kissed his forehead through her tears. "They were right," she whispered. "The comet… the prophecy… you're the one they feared."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "But you're mine. And I'll protect you… even from the stars."
She leaned down, kissing the baby's forehead again. "You're safe now, my love," she whispered.
She was exhausted Sleep threatened her, but she couldn't allow it. The child had to be warm. He had to be safe. Her arms wrapped tighter around him as he whimpered, his tiny fists curling against her chest.
A flicker of fear passed through her again.
Would they find her? Could she keep him hidden forever? She didn't have answers to those questions.
She began whispering old lullabies from her childhood, songs sung in High Velzorian, songs her mother once sang to her when her world was better. The words were soft, melodic, barely audible, but they calmed the infant in her arms.
He stopped crying. He looked at her. It was the first time their eyes met properly. "You're special," she whispered. "
She looked up at the red comet one last time. She knew what it meant. This child was not ordinary. He was born under a cursed star. Born of fire and blood. Born with a prophecy chasing him before he even took his first breath.
She pressed her cheek to his.
"I'll call you… Aeron."
*****
It had been three days since the flames consumed House Velzorah, or so they believed.
There were whispers across the Five Kingdoms about the fire that devoured Lord Lucian Velzorah's estate. But fire wasn't enough for House Vanýr.
No. They wanted to silence the bloodline.
Led by the cold-hearted Lord Voryn Vanýr and his general, who was hardened in battle, General Kaelor Vanýr, they carried out the King's command with deadly precision. But everyone knew, this was not justice. There was more to it.
Across the cities and scattered regions, the name "Velzorah" became a curse. Anyone who bore it, anyone who was even remotely tied to it, cousins, distant uncles, maids, squires, were hunted like animals.
They were dragged from cellars. Smoked out from mountain huts.
Some were caught in public and executed without trial. Others… simply vanished.
Across the Five Kingdoms, people who had once been proud to serve or befriend the Velzorahs suddenly became strangers. Walls that once welcomed them now turned to stone. Everyone shut their doors. Voices hushed, and the few who could escape did the unthinkable:
They changed their names.
A noble girl in the West now called herself a commoner.
A young blacksmith who once served in Velzorah lands burned every letter and crest from his past.
A mother changed her newborn son's surname the moment she heard what happened.
It was a dark time. A time when evil moved faster than justice. A time when fear had no face but wore the name Vanýr.
*****
In the capital, behind the high marble walls of the Silver Throne Room, King Elyndor sat alone.
He hardly slept. He hardly ate much either. The words of Nyssara still echoed in his mind.
"Born under the red comet… destined to bring darkness… a child of Velzorian blood…"
And he had listened. He had believed. And he had killed.
He stared at the flame rising in the bronze brazier beside his throne. It flickered like the guilt twisting in his chest.
He whispered, barely audible: "Forgive me… Lucian…"
He and Lucian Velzorah had once fought side by side. Shared victories. Secrets. Tears. He remembered the day Lucian swore allegiance to him, not just as a king, but as a friend.
And now? Now his soldiers burned Lucian's name into the soil. "It was necessary," he told himself.
"It was for the kingdom…"
But his soul didn't believe him.
The fire was done, but the kingdom felt colder. He had stopped a prophecy, he thought, but something in his bones whispered that it wasn't over.
*****
Meanwhile, in that cave beyond the northern city of Varnmoor, Daelya Velzorah held her newborn son tightly to her chest.
She didn't know what waited beyond the trees. She didn't know who lived or died near her house. But she knew one thing:
They must never find Aeron. They must never know he lived.
And so, under the silent witness of the comet, she whispered into his tiny ear:
"They'll hunt you if they know.
But they'll never know.
You're not the end, Aeron…
You're my reason to keep going."
The child slept peacefully.
But the storm… was only just beginning.