Chapter 15 – Birth of the First Hybrids
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For Seraphina, seven days felt like seven circles of hell. Once a noble mage who commanded respect and lived in luxury, now she was bound by rough roots, forced to lie on damp stone, her body and pride shackled in a filthy cave.
Every day her sapphire eyes burned with hatred as they glared at Altair. But every day, she found his gaze meeting hers—cold, sharp, intelligent. It was not the gaze of a beast. It was the gaze of a conqueror.
"Someday," she whispered to herself on the fourth night, trembling from exhaustion, "someday I'll be free… and when I am, I'll burn you all to ash."
Altair never answered her words. He only sat at the fire, eyes glowing in the darkness. "Seven days. That is all it takes. Seven days to prove my theory. The result will be the foundation of my reign."
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On the seventh night, the cave shook with her cries. Seraphina's body writhed in agony, sweat soaking her once-pristine robes. Her voice was hoarse from screaming, each contraction tearing at her strength.
"You're all… monsters!" she spat between cries.
Mira knelt at her side, trying to steady her even as Seraphina jerked away. "Don't touch me!"
But no protest could stop what was coming.
With a final cry, the first infant's wail filled the cave. A small child emerged—not like ordinary goblins. His skin was pale green, but his eyes glowed blue like crystal.
Gasps filled the den. Goblin infants were always weak, blind, and helpless. This child's gaze, however, was sharp, alive.
Then another came—larger, his body already thick with muscle, small fangs jutting from his mouth. His cry was not a whimper but a roar.
The third followed swiftly, his eyes darting sharply, movements quick and strong, tiny hands clawing at the ground with surprising force.
Finally, the fourth—his skin darker than any goblin, and as he cried, a faint aura of shadow rippled around him, chilling the air.
Four infants, born in one night. Four hybrids.
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Altair's chest rose and fell rapidly. He stared at them, emerald eyes wide with something between awe and hunger.
"Only seven days… and they are already beyond goblins. Fast. Efficient. Powerful. This… this is the key."
One infant gripped his claw, the strength so fierce it nearly cracked his nail. Altair's lips curled into a smile.
Seraphina lay trembling, tears streaking her face. "No… this isn't right… I won't accept this…"
Altair leaned close, whispering into her ear. "You don't need to accept it. You only need to birth it. From your womb will come the future that devours the world."
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Altair stood before the pack, firelight casting his shadow tall and fierce. He lifted the first child, whose crystalline blue eyes seemed to pierce the dark.
"These eyes see further than most. You will guide the way. Your name is Arden."
The second child, heavy-bodied with sharp fangs, roared in his tiny lungs. Altair smirked. "Strength will be your spear. You are Lyra."
The third writhed with wild energy, fingers clawing at the air. Altair nodded. "Your eyes are sharp, your grasp unyielding. You are Silas."
Finally, he raised the fourth, dark-skinned, surrounded by a faint aura of dread. The other goblins instinctively stepped back. Altair's voice dropped low. "You are different. Shadows follow you. You are Neriah."
The pack erupted into ragged cheers. They shouted the names again and again, their voices shaking the cavern walls.
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Ordinary goblins gaped in astonishment. They knew goblin infants took weeks before they could even crawl. Yet these hybrids moved, cried with strength, even gripped with unnatural power.
Lila clenched her fists, conflicted. "These children… they may even surpass Kael, Kyren, Davj, and Varz."
Mira's eyes glistened as she looked at Altair. "This is it… isn't it? The true beginning."
Altair lifted Arden high above his head. "Hear me! From Seraphina's womb, the first hybrids are born—goblin and human combined. Stronger, faster, sharper. From them, our empire begins. From them, the world will kneel!"
Their cries echoed into the night, rough but filled with belief.
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That night, Altair sat before the fire, his gaze fixed on the sleeping hybrids. His chest tightened with something unfamiliar—pride, hunger, vengeance all at once.
"These are my children. My pillars. With them, I will forge an army. With them, I will carve my vengeance."
His eyes gleamed, his smile cruel. "Alice, Luthien, Thror, Mugnash, Cheka… your betrayal birthed this. From Arden, Lyra, Silas, and Neriah, a disaster has been born. And soon, the world will know its name."
The fire snapped, casting his shadow like that of a king across the cavern wall. Not a goblin anymore, but something far greater—a ruler in the making, forged in blood and revenge.
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