….*….
Five years had passed since the graduation caps fell and the silence of the Deep Wells swallowed the King of Dragons. For Kaelan, life had settled into a rhythm of high rise offices, spreadsheets, and a persistent, low level irritation with the universe. At twenty seven, he was sharper, his jaded gaze more refined, and his career as a financial analyst was thriving.
But his body was a traitorous mystery.
While his peers were getting married or moving to the suburbs, Kaelan was dealing with a physical anomaly that defied every medical textbook he secretly consulted. Over the course of five years, his stomach hadn't stayed flat. It had developed a small, firm bump not the result of a sedentary office life, but a localized, radiating weight that felt like a stone made of warmth. It was subtle enough to hide under a well tailored vest, but to Kaelan, it was a constant, sickening reminder of the week he couldn't quite remember.
"It's a tumor," Kaelan would mutter to his reflection every morning, adjusting his tie. "A very warm, very stubborn, narcissistic tumor. I hope it's benign. I hope it's not sentient. I hope it's not... him."
But the symptoms were getting worse. Recently, he had found himself slipping into a state of heat,a sudden, overwhelming surge of internal fire that made his black panther ears pop out in the middle of board meetings. Even more mortifying was the weird white fluid he occasionally found leaking from his chest or staining his shirts,a biological preparation for a guest that hadn't arrived.
"I am a medical marvel of humiliation," Kaelan hissed, scrubbing a spot on his shirt in the office restroom. "I hope the lizard who did this is being used as a footstool in whatever hell he's in."
The weekends were the only time the "normal" mask slipped. Today, his quiet apartment was a battlefield of domestic chaos. Tamsin and Marcus had brought over their five year old daughter, Mina.
Mina was a biological catastrophe of a child. She had Marcus's saint like patience, which she used to sit perfectly still for hours while she plotted, and Tamsin's nuclear grade temper, which she unleashed the moment she didn't get her way.
"Uncle Kaelan, why is your tummy rounder than Daddy's?" Mina asked, her fox ears twitching with innocent, vicious curiosity.
"Because I swallowed a very large, very annoying encyclopedia, Mina," Kaelan snapped, though he gently moved her hand away from the bump. "Go play with your blocks before I tell your mother you ate the decorative soaps."
"She already did," Marcus sighed, looking exhausted but happy as he sat on the sofa. "Tamsin's currently chasing her around the park because Mina decided the neighbor's dog needed a haircut."
Kaelan looked at his friends. Their life was loud and messy, but it was real. His life felt like he was a vessel for a ghost. The secret seed was stirring more aggressively now, pulsing in time with a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
The doorbell rang, a sharp, demanding sound. Kaelan opened it to find Kehlani standing there. She was twelve now, a tall, leggy pre-teen with shimmering blue scales along her collarbone and a permanent scowl that she had clearly modeled after Kaelan.
"I'm back," she announced, pushing past him. "Mama is being a bitter snake again. She's obsessed with your 'condition'."
"Welcome home, kid," Kaelan sighed, closing the door. Kehlani had become a sticky fixture in his life, running away from the Dragon Realm every few months to hide in his "boring human apartment."
But this time, the shadows followed her.
Zadkiel didn't knock. She manifested in the center of the living room, her water magic churning with a livid, desperate intensity. She looked at Kaelan's midsection, her eyes landing on the small bump with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Five years," Zadkiel hissed. "Five years and the King's brat still hasn't breathed air. The South Lord says the seal is too strong,that it needs a catalyst. If it won't be born, I will force it to accelerate until it tears you apart from the inside!"
She lunged, her hands glowing with a dark, cursed blue light. She slammed her palms against Kaelan's stomach, intending to flood the seed with chaotic energy to force a premature, violent birth.
Kaelan braced himself for agony. He expected to be ripped open.
Instead, the moment her magic touched the bump, the seed didn't panic. It roared.
A shockwave of pure solar gold erupted from Kaelan's skin. It was the raw, manic power of Ignis, dormant but undying. The golden light shattered Zadkiel's water shield, throwing her across the room and through the glass balcony door.
"Get. Out." Kaelan's voice wasn't his own; it was a dual toned growl, his slit pupils glowing with a terrifying, ancient fire. "If you touch me again, I won't just bite you. I'll erase you."
Zadkiel scrambled up, her face pale with horror. The plan had failed. The seed was protected by a divine ward that even time couldn't touch. She vanished into a puddle of salt water, leaving only the scent of ozone and fear behind.
Kaelan collapsed onto the sofa, his breath hitching. The sickening sensation in his gut settled back into a low hum. The bump felt warmer than ever, a tiny, golden sun resting beneath his ribs.
Kehlani sat next to him, placing a small hand on his arm. "He's still watching, isn't he? The King?"
Kaelan looked at the dragon earring on the coffee table. For the first time in five years, it gave a tiny, almost imperceptible pulse of light.
"He's a narcissistic, stubborn, scaly monster," Kaelan whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and a strange, aching loss. "He's probably sitting in a hole somewhere, laughing at how much of a mess my life is."
In the Deep Wells, Ignis was indeed laughing.
His body was a map of scars, his skin bruised and wounded from half a decade of divine torture. The guards had just broken his arm, but Ignis was looking up at the ceiling of his cell with a look of calm, arrogant triumph.
He had felt it. He had felt Zadkiel's attack and the way his seed had defended its host. He had felt Kaelan's furious protection of the life inside him,even if Kaelan still claimed to hate it.
"Did you feel that?" Ignis asked the guard, his voice a dry, manic rattle. "That was my fiancée. He just threw a High Concubine through a window. He's got such a fierce spirit, doesn't he?"
The guard struck him again, but Ignis only smiled, his eyes glowing with an undying obsession.
Two hundred and eighty four years left, my Kaelan, he thought. Grow big. Stay sharp. And keep that small bump safe. I'm coming back for more fun, and I expect you to have a lot of sarcastic complaints ready for me.