The hidden grove had become their sanctuary.
Anastasia Velnova stood beneath the ancient willow, its cascading branches creating a natural curtain that concealed this place from prying eyes. Evening light filtered through the leaves, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. She'd arrived early as always, her heart racing with the familiar mixture of anticipation and fear that came with these secret meetings.
Three years. They'd been doing this for three years now, stealing moments between duty and war, between the expectations of their worlds and the reality of what they'd found in each other.
The air pressure changed. She felt it before she heard it, that peculiar heaviness that preceded his arrival. Then came the sound, the powerful rush of wings cutting through sky, and her breath caught as it always did.
Raviel descended through the canopy like a crimson comet.
His dragon form was magnificent, a creature of legend given flesh. Scales the deep red of fresh blood covered his massive body, each one catching the dying light and reflecting it back like polished rubies. His wingspan had to be over sixty feet, perhaps more, creating shadows that swallowed the grove entirely as he landed. Horns, black as obsidian and curved like scythes, crowned his head. But it was his eyes that always captured her, molten gold that burned with intelligence and power far beyond what any human could possess.
He was enormous. Terrifying to anyone who didn't know him. The strongest dragon of the current age, second only to the legendary Nikelan Aureflame himself, from whose bloodline Raviel descended.
But when those golden eyes found her, they softened.
"Anastasia," he rumbled, his voice in dragon form like thunder given speech, resonant enough to vibrate in her chest. "Forgive my lateness. The patrol ran longer than expected."
"You're here now," she said, stepping forward without hesitation. "That's all that matters."
She'd long since stopped being afraid of his true form. How could she fear something so beautiful? She placed her hand against his snout, feeling the warmth of his scales, the slight vibration of his breathing. He lowered his head to press gently against her palm, careful despite his size.
Then the air shimmered.
The transformation was always breathtaking. His massive form compressed, reality bending around him as dragon became man. Light and shadow danced as his body restructured itself, scales melting into skin, wings folding into nothingness, mass somehow condensing without violating the laws of physics in ways that made her head hurt if she thought about it too long.
When the light faded, Raviel stood before her in humanoid form.
He was tall, easily six and a half feet, with a warrior's build that spoke of both power and grace. His hair remained that distinctive crimson, falling to his shoulders in waves that caught the light like liquid fire. His features were sharp, aristocratic, undeniably handsome in a way that turned heads even among the notoriously beautiful dragon-kind. But it was his eyes that remained unchanged, those molten gold orbs that marked him as something more than human.
He wore simple traveling clothes, nothing that would mark him as nobility or draw attention. Just a man meeting his lover in secret.
"Better?" he asked, his voice now pitched for human ears but still carrying that underlying resonance of power.
"Always," Anastasia replied, stepping into his embrace.
His arms wrapped around her, warm and solid and safe. She pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent, something like smoke and spice and summer storms. For a moment, they simply held each other, letting the world and its complications fade away.
"I've missed you," she whispered.
"And I you," Raviel said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Every moment away feels like an eternity."
She pulled back slightly to look up at him. "How bad is it? The war?"
His expression darkened. "Growing worse. The rifts are becoming more frequent. Larger. We sealed three major breaches this week alone. The Chimeras are getting stronger too, or perhaps more desperate. It's as if whatever lies beyond is pushing harder to break through."
"And the other dragons?"
"Fighting alongside humans and elves as best we can. But it's not enough." He guided her to sit beside him on the moss-covered ground, their backs against the willow's trunk. "Even the great Balancer couldn't hold forever. Now it falls to us to protect what remains of his legacy. But without the Realm Core, without that anchoring force, the barriers between realms continue to weaken."
Anastasia laced her fingers through his, marveling as always at the difference in their hands. His were larger, stronger, marked with calluses from weapons and battle. Hers were smaller, softer, the hands of a noble lady trained in politics and grace rather than combat.
"I worry about you," she admitted quietly. "Every time you leave for the front lines, I wonder if you'll return."
Raviel squeezed her hand gently. "I'm the strongest of my kind since Nikelan himself. There are few things in this realm that pose a true threat to me."
"But the invaders aren't from this realm. That's the entire problem."
He couldn't argue with that. Instead, he pulled her closer, tucking her against his side. "Then I'll simply have to be more careful. I have too much to live for to fall in some nameless battle."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the light fade through the leaves. These moments were precious, stolen fragments of peace in a world that seemed determined to tear itself apart.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Anastasia asked eventually. "About what comes after the war?"
"Every day," Raviel admitted. "I think about a time when we won't have to hide. When I can stand before your father and formally ask for your hand. When our peoples can look at us and see not scandal but hope."
"Dragons and humans don't marry," she said, not bitterly but simply stating fact.
"Dragons and humans also don't fall in love," Raviel countered. "And yet here we are. Perhaps we're proof that the old rules don't have to be absolute."
Anastasia turned to look at him fully. "You really believe that? That there could be a future for us?"
His golden eyes met hers with absolute certainty. "When this war ends, when the realm is stable again, I will find a way for us. I don't care what traditions I have to challenge or what conventions I have to break. You are mine, Anastasia Velnova, and I am yours. That's the only truth that matters."
Her heart swelled, even as part of her wondered if he was being naive. But she couldn't bring herself to voice those doubts. Not here, not now, in their sanctuary where for a few precious hours they could pretend the world was simpler than it was.
"I'll wait forever if I must," she said, echoing words she'd spoken before.
Raviel cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks with infinite gentleness. "You won't have to wait forever. I promise you that."
He kissed her then, and Anastasia let herself fall into it, into him, into the impossible beautiful dream of them. His lips were warm, his touch reverent despite the power he commanded. This was different from the passionate embraces of their early meetings. This was deeper, richer, the kiss of two people who knew each other's souls.
When they finally parted, both slightly breathless, Raviel rested his forehead against hers.
"I love you," he said simply.
"I love you too," Anastasia replied. "More than I ever thought possible."
They held each other as night fell, neither wanting to acknowledge that their time was running short, that soon he would have to return to his duties and she to hers, both slipping back into the roles their worlds demanded they play.
If either of them had known it would be their last evening together, they might have held on longer.
But fate rarely gives such warnings.
The sky exploded with light.
Raviel was on his feet instantly, his body tensing as his senses, far sharper than any human's, detected the disturbance. To the east, the horizon blazed with unnatural colors, reds and purples and sickly greens that had no place in nature.
"A breach," he said, his voice tight. "A major one."
Anastasia stood as well, her blood running cold. She could hear it now too, carried on the wind, the sounds of distant screams and roars.
"How far?"
"Twenty miles, perhaps less. Near Millbrook." His jaw clenched. "That's a human settlement. Five thousand people."
Their eyes met, and Anastasia saw the war between duty and desire playing out on his face. She made the choice for him.
"Go," she said firmly. "They need you."
"Anastasia..."
"Go!" She pushed at his chest, even knowing she couldn't move him if he didn't want to be moved. "I'll be fine. Those people won't be if you're not there."
Raviel grabbed her hand, pressing it to his lips in a kiss that felt far too much like goodbye. "I'll come back. I swear it."
"You'd better," she said, trying to smile even as fear gripped her heart. "You still owe me that future you promised."
He transformed in a rush of light and power, dragon form erupting back into existence with enough force to bend the willow's branches back. Without another word, he launched himself skyward, wings beating with enough strength to create winds that whipped Anastasia's hair and dress.
She watched him go, a crimson streak against the darkening sky, flying toward the unnatural lights on the horizon.
"Come back to me," she whispered to the empty air. "Please, come back."
But the grove offered no answer, and Anastasia was left alone with the distant sounds of battle and a dread she couldn't quite name.
Raviel reached the battlefield in minutes, his powerful wings eating the distance with each beat. What he found made even his ancient blood run cold.
The rift hung in the sky like a wound in reality itself, easily three hundred feet across and growing. Through it poured Chimeras by the dozens, twisted amalgamations of creatures that should never exist. Some had too many limbs, others too many heads. All of them were wrong, their very existence a violation of natural law.
Below, the combined forces of humans and elves fought desperately. He could see the organized ranks of human soldiers, their enchanted weapons flashing. Elven mages wove complex spells that created barriers and unleashed elemental fury. Other dragons circled and dove, breathing fire and rending Chimeras with claw and fang.
But they were being overwhelmed.
Raviel didn't announce himself. He simply dove.
His first attack was devastating. He inhaled deeply, drawing on the furnace that burned at his core, then released it in a torrent of flames that put common dragon fire to shame. This was Crimson Annihilation, his signature technique, flames so hot they burned white at the center and could reduce stone to vapor.
The stream of destruction carved through the Chimera ranks like a scythe through wheat. Dozens died instantly, their bodies not even having time to register pain before being reduced to ash. The heat was so intense that the ground below turned to glass, and even the allied forces had to shield themselves from the backwash.
Raviel landed in the center of the battlefield with earth-shaking force, his massive form acting as a rallying point. The human soldiers cheered. The elves sang his name in their flowing tongue. Even the other dragons seemed to fight with renewed vigor at his arrival.
"Dragon King Raviel!" A human commander, his armor scorched and dented, rushed forward. "Thank the realm you're here! We can't hold them much longer!"
"You won't have to," Raviel rumbled. "Pull your forces back. I'll handle the vanguard."
He didn't wait for acknowledgment. Power flooded through him, the might of a Dragon King in his prime, descendant of legends and the strongest of his generation. His aura expanded outward in a visible wave, a crimson pressure that made the very air tremble.
This was Dragon's Dominion, the technique that separated true Dragon Kings from mere powerful dragons. Within its radius, enemies found their strength sapped, their movements sluggish, their wills weakened. Allies, conversely, felt their power amplified, their courage bolstered, their strikes landing truer.
The effect was immediate and dramatic.
Chimeras that had been overwhelming human soldiers suddenly found themselves being cut down. Elven spells that had been barely holding the line now detonated with twice their normal force. Dragons fighting alongside Raviel felt their flames burn hotter, their scales turn harder.
And Raviel himself became a force of nature.
He moved through the battlefield like death incarnate. His claws, each one the length of a sword, cut through Chimera hide like parchment. His tail swept in wide arcs, sending enemies flying. His jaws clamped down and crushed, his flames reduced dozens to nothing with each breath.
But he fought with precision too, careful never to catch allies in his attacks, always aware of where the human and elven forces were positioned. This was the difference between power and mastery, the ability to unleash devastating force while maintaining perfect control.
A particularly large Chimera, something with the body of a bear, the head of a wolf, and far too many eyes, charged at him. Raviel met it head-on, his greater mass and momentum turning the collision into a brutal demonstration of superiority. His horns gored into its chest, his claws tore at its sides, and when it tried to bite at his neck, he simply snapped his jaws closed on its skull and crushed it like an egg.
The battle raged for what felt like hours but was probably less than thirty minutes. Slowly, inevitably, the tide turned. The Chimeras fell in droves. The rift, without fresh reinforcements making it through, began to destabilize.
Victory seemed assured.
Then everything went wrong.
The rift, which had been slowly closing, suddenly pulsed. Once. Twice. Then it exploded outward, doubling in size in an instant.
Through it came something far worse than Chimeras.
They were humanoid, roughly speaking, but wrong in ways that made the eye slide away from properly perceiving them. There were five of them, each one radiating power that made even Raviel's instincts scream warnings. Not invaders as powerful as the legendary Azhrael who had defeated Nikelan, but far beyond anything that should have been able to cross into the Middle Realm.
One of them, the leader perhaps, pointed directly at Raviel.
"The strong one," it said in a voice like grinding stone. "Kill it. The rest don't matter."
They attacked with coordinated precision that spoke of experience fighting together. Raviel barely had time to brace himself before the first one was on him, moving with speed that shouldn't have been possible for something its size.
The impact drove him backward, his claws digging furrows in the earth as he tried to arrest his momentum. Pain, actual pain, lanced through his side where the creature had struck. He looked down to see blood, his blood, staining his crimson scales darker.
He'd been wounded. That alone told him how serious this was.
"Fall back!" Raviel roared to the human and elven forces. "Everyone, retreat! Now!"
They didn't need to be told twice. The commander, seasoned enough to recognize when they were out of their depth, immediately began organizing a withdrawal. The other dragons, seeing their strongest being pressed, moved to support but Raviel snarled at them.
"Protect the retreat! That's an order!"
He couldn't afford to be worried about others right now. These five creatures, whatever they were, required his full attention.
The battle that followed was brutal in a way the earlier fighting hadn't been. The Chimeras had been numerous but individually weak. These invaders were few but devastatingly powerful. Each one matched a Dragon King in raw strength, and together they fought with a coordination that exploited every opening.
Raviel gave as good as he got. His flames forced them back when they tried to surround him. His claws opened wounds in their strange flesh. His tail caught one across the chest with enough force to send it tumbling across the battlefield.
But there were five of them and only one of him, and they were wearing him down.
A blade of shadow materialized and cut across his wing. He roared in pain and fury as the membrane tore, compromising his ability to maneuver. Another invader caught him from behind, its claws raking down his back and finding the softer scales between the plates.
Blood flowed freely now. His movements were slowing. The edges of his vision were starting to blur.
Behind him, he could hear the sounds of retreat, of his people escaping. Good. That was good. They'd live. Whatever happened to him, they'd live.
One of the invaders grabbed his head, trying to force it down, to expose his neck. Raviel thrashed violently, managing to throw it off but leaving himself open to another's attack. Pain exploded in his side as something sharp, impossibly sharp, pierced between his scales and sank deep into flesh.
He stumbled, his legs suddenly weak. Poison? Toxin? Or just the accumulated damage finally taking its toll?
Through the haze of pain, Raviel saw them. The human forces were mostly clear now, the elves covering their retreat with ranging spells. The other dragons had formed a protective screen. They were going to make it.
But the rift. The damned rift was still open, still pulsing with malevolent energy. As long as it remained, more would come through. These five would be just the beginning.
Raviel made his decision.
He'd studied the ancient texts, back when he'd been young and foolish and thought he'd never need such knowledge. The forbidden techniques, the ones that required prices too steep for most to pay. He'd sworn he'd never use them.
But some things were worth any price.
"Aureflame's Last Testament," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of battle.
The invaders sensed something was wrong. They backed away slightly, wary now in a way they hadn't been before.
Raviel began to burn.
Not with normal dragon fire. This was different. This was his very life force igniting, his essence being rendered down to pure energy. It was agony beyond description, but he gritted his teeth and channeled it, shaped it, directed it toward a single purpose.
Seal the rift.
The power flowing through him was immense, far beyond what he could normally command. It was the strength of a lifetime consumed in moments, decades of accumulated power released all at once. The air around him became plasma. The ground beneath him turned to lava.
The invaders tried to stop him, but they couldn't get close anymore. The heat was too intense. The energy too volatile. They could only watch as Raviel, the Dragon King, performed his final act.
He exhaled one last time.
The flames that emerged were beyond crimson, beyond white. They were the color of pure energy, of reality itself being reshaped. They struck the rift like a hammer blow from the gods, and the wound in space screamed as it was forced closed.
For a moment, the rift resisted. The entities on the other side pushed back, trying to keep their gateway open. But Raviel poured everything he had into the sealing, holding nothing back, burning himself down to nothing to make sure it held.
The rift collapsed.
The backlash was catastrophic. The shockwave flattened everything within a half-mile radius. The five invaders were caught in it, their bodies disintegrating as the dimensional energies tore them apart.
When the light finally faded and the dust settled, there was only a crater.
At its center lay Raviel, still in dragon form but so still he might have been carved from stone. His crimson scales had lost their luster, turned dull and grey. His golden eyes, those magnificent eyes that had looked at Anastasia with such love just hours before, stared sightlessly at the sky.
Raviel Aureflame, the Dragon King, strongest of his generation, was dead.
But the rift was sealed. The invaders were gone. And thousands of lives had been saved.
In the end, he'd kept his word. He'd protected them all.
Just not in the way Anastasia had hoped.
Three days later, the news reached the Velnova estate.
Anastasia was in the garden when the messenger arrived, a young dragon in humanoid form bearing official notices. She saw him being led to her father's study and felt her blood turn cold. No good news came delivered by dragons to human nobles.
She tried to continue her walk, tried to pretend she was simply enjoying the afternoon sun. But her feet carried her, almost of their own accord, toward the study. She positioned herself in an alcove nearby, hidden but close enough to hear.
"Lord Noiran Velnova," the messenger's voice was formal, heavy. "I bring grave tidings from the front lines."
"Speak," her father's voice, always so controlled.
"Three nights past, a major breach occurred near Millbrook. The settlement came under attack by Chimera forces and, more critically, by invaders of significant power."
Anastasia's hands clenched into fists.
"Raviel Aureflame, Dragon King of the Aureflame bloodline, arrived to lead the defense. His intervention prevented what would have been a complete massacre. Through his efforts, the human and elven forces were able to retreat with minimal casualties."
"That's good news, is it not?" Noiran asked, though something in his tone suggested he knew there was more.
"Yes, my lord. But the cost..." The messenger paused, as if gathering himself. "Dragon King Raviel sealed the breach using Aureflame's Last Testament. The rift is closed. The invaders are destroyed. But the technique requires..."
"His life," Noiran finished quietly.
"Yes, my lord. Raviel Aureflame has fallen. He is counted among the honored dead, his sacrifice having saved thousands. The Dragon Council wished to inform all noble houses of his passing, that he might be properly mourned."
Silence. Anastasia pressed her hand to her mouth, fighting to keep from making a sound. Not here. Not now. She couldn't break. Couldn't reveal what he'd meant to her.
"This is grave news indeed," Noiran said finally. "Raviel was a hero to all our people, not just his own kind. He will be mourned deeply."
"There is to be a memorial service in one week's time, at the Convergence Plains where the Balancer was once chosen. All are welcome to pay their respects."
"We shall attend. Thank you for bringing this news personally."
Formal farewells were exchanged. Anastasia heard the messenger leave, heard her father's heavy sigh. Then silence again.
She waited until she was sure both were gone before she moved, her legs feeling wooden, disconnected from her body. She walked through the estate like a ghost, barely seeing where she was going, until she found herself back in her chambers.
Only then, with the door locked and the windows shuttered, did she allow herself to break.
The grief hit like a physical blow, driving her to her knees. She pressed both hands over her mouth to muffle the sobs, her whole body shaking with the force of them. Tears streamed down her face unchecked.
Raviel. Her Raviel. Gone.
He'd promised. He'd promised to come back, to find a way for them, to give them the future they'd dreamed of in that grove beneath the willow. And now he never would. Now she'd never feel his arms around her again, never hear his voice, never see those golden eyes looking at her with such infinite tenderness.
And she couldn't even mourn him properly. Couldn't tell anyone what he'd meant to her. Couldn't stand at that memorial and scream her grief to the sky because no one knew. No one could know. Their love had been secret, and in death, it would remain secret.
She was alone with her pain, alone with her loss, and it was suffocating.
Anastasia cried until she had no tears left, until her throat was raw and her eyes burned. She cried until exhaustion dragged her into a dreamless sleep on the floor of her chambers, still in her day clothes, looking for all the world like a woman who had lost everything.
Because she had.
The weeks that followed were a blur.
Anastasia attended the memorial service at the Convergence Plains along with thousands of others. She stood among the human nobility, dressed in appropriate mourning clothes, her face a mask of polite sorrow that gave nothing away. She listened to the speeches praising Raviel's sacrifice, watched as his name was added to the monuments honoring the fallen, and felt nothing but a hollow ache where her heart used to be.
She accepted condolences from other nobles who assumed she mourned as any citizen would for a fallen hero. She smiled when appropriate, nodded when expected, played her role perfectly.
Inside, she was screaming.
Her father watched her carefully during this time but said nothing. Noiran Velnova hadn't become a successful lord by being unobservant. He saw his daughter's grief, recognized it as something deeper than what the situation publicly called for, but he waited. If Anastasia wanted to confide in him, she would. In her own time.
Three weeks after Raviel's death, Anastasia woke feeling ill.
At first, she attributed it to grief. She'd been eating poorly, sleeping worse, existing in a fog that made everything seem distant and unreal. Nausea was probably just her body's response to stress.
But it persisted. Day after day, especially in the mornings. And then she noticed other things. Her breasts were tender. Her courses, always regular, hadn't come. Small changes that individually meant nothing but together...
No. Impossible.
Dragons and humans couldn't have children. It was biological fact, known across all three races. The species were too different, their essences incompatible. She and Raviel had known this, had taken comfort in it even, one less complication to worry about.
But her body was telling her a different story.
Anastasia waited another week, watching for any sign that she was wrong. But the symptoms only grew more pronounced. Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty anymore, she did something risky. She sought out a healer, one known for discretion, and paid for an examination under false pretenses.
The healer, an elderly elf woman with knowing eyes, examined her with gentle efficiency. When she finished, she looked at Anastasia with an expression that was hard to read.
"You're with child, my dear. About a month along, I'd say."
The words hit like a thunderbolt. Anastasia had suspected, had known in her bones, but hearing it confirmed made it real in a way that stole her breath.
"Are you certain?"
"As certain as I can be without more invasive examinations. The signs are all there." The healer paused. "Is this unwelcome news? There are ways to... address the situation, if you wish."
"No," Anastasia said quickly, her hand moving instinctively to her still-flat stomach. "No, I'll keep it. I just... needed to know for certain."
The healer studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. Come back in a month for another examination. And take care of yourself. Your body is going through significant changes."
Anastasia paid and left in a daze.
A baby. Raviel's baby. Growing inside her right now.
The impossibility of it crashed over her in waves. Dragons and humans couldn't reproduce. Everyone knew that. And yet here she was, carrying proof that sometimes, the impossible happened anyway.
Part of her wanted to laugh hysterically. Part of her wanted to cry. In the end, she did both, sitting in her chambers and letting the emotional storm rage through her.
When it finally passed, she was left with a strange sense of calm. Raviel was gone, but a piece of him remained. Their love, which she'd thought would die with him, would live on in this child.
But reality asserted itself quickly. She was an unmarried noblewoman carrying a child. That alone would be scandalous enough. But if anyone discovered the father had been a dragon, if anyone learned that this child was a hybrid...
She didn't know what would happen, but she knew it wouldn't be good.
She needed help. She needed someone she could trust with a secret this monumental.
She needed her father.
Anastasia waited until late evening, when the servants had mostly retired and the estate was quiet. She found Noiran in his study as expected, reviewing ledgers by candlelight. He looked up when she entered, and something in her expression made him immediately set his work aside.
"Anastasia. What's wrong?"
She closed the door behind her, locked it, then took a deep breath. There was no easy way to say this. No gentle approach that would soften the blow. So she simply spoke the truth.
"Father, I'm pregnant."
Noiran froze, his weathered face going absolutely still. For a long moment, he simply stared at her as if trying to process words in a foreign language. Then his expression darkened, anger beginning to show through his normally controlled demeanor.
"Who?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Which young lord has dishonored you? Who took advantage of my daughter while I was distracted by this damned war? Tell me his name and I'll have his head on a spike by morning."
"Father, please, it's not like that."
"Then tell me what it's like!" Noiran stood, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Tell me how my unmarried daughter ends up with child! Tell me who I need to drag before the magistrates!"
Anastasia stood her ground, even as her heart raced. "It was Raviel Aureflame."
The words fell into the study like stones into still water.
Noiran's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "That's... that's not possible. Dragons and humans can't..." He trailed off, seeing the absolute certainty in her eyes. "How long?"
"Three years. We'd been meeting in secret for three years."
Her father sank back into his chair as if his legs had given out. He suddenly looked every one of his fifty-seven years, and then some. "Three years. You and the Dragon King. I should have seen it. The nights you'd slip away. The glow you'd have sometimes. The way you reacted to news of his death." He looked up at her, his expression complicated. "You loved him."
It wasn't a question, but Anastasia answered anyway. "Yes. With everything I am."
"And the child... it's really possible? Dragon and human?"
"I'm carrying proof that it is."
Noiran was quiet for a long time, his mind clearly working through the implications. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, careful. "Does anyone else know?"
"A healer confirmed it, but she doesn't know who the father was. She thinks it's some human noble's bastard."
"And Raviel... did he know?"
Anastasia shook her head, tears threatening again. "I didn't know myself until after he'd fallen. He died not knowing he would have a child."
Another long silence. Noiran stood and moved to his window, looking out at the estate grounds bathed in moonlight. Anastasia waited, hardly daring to breathe, wondering what judgment her father would pass.
"This child," Noiran said slowly, "is my grandchild. Blood of my blood, regardless of what else flows in its veins."
Relief nearly knocked Anastasia's legs out from under her. "Father..."
He held up a hand. "But we must be practical about this. The world isn't ready for what this child represents. Dragons are respected, feared even, but they're not human. And a hybrid..." He shook his head. "I don't know how people would react. Fear, most likely. Perhaps hatred. The child could be seen as an abomination by both races."
"I know," Anastasia said quietly. "That's why I came to you. I don't know what to do."
Noiran turned to face her fully. "We hide the truth. Raise the child as human, keep the dragon heritage secret. When people ask about the father, we say he was a noble who died in the war. That's not even a lie, technically."
"And if the child shows signs? If the dragon blood manifests?"
"Then we deal with it when the time comes. We'll find teachers who can help, people who can be trusted. But the priority is keeping the child safe, and the best way to do that is to hide what makes them different." He moved to stand before his daughter, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Anastasia, I won't pretend this will be easy. But I will stand by you. By both of you. This child deserves a chance at life, regardless of the circumstances of their birth."
Anastasia felt tears spill down her cheeks, but they were different now. Not tears of grief but of gratitude, of relief. "Thank you, Father. Thank you."
Noiran pulled her into an embrace, something he rarely did, his show of affection typically more restrained. "Raviel gave his life to protect this realm. The least we can do is protect his legacy."
They stood like that for several minutes, father and daughter united in their determination to protect the impossible child growing in her womb.
When they finally separated, Noiran's expression had shifted, become thoughtful in a way that Anastasia recognized. It was the look he got when pieces were falling into place, when he was seeing connections others missed.
"You know," he said slowly, "there's an old prophecy. Ancient, from before even Nikelan's time. It speaks of a child born when the realm needs them most. A child of two bloods, two worlds, born from fire and forged in chaos. The anomaly that would shift the balance."
Anastasia blinked. "I've never heard of such a prophecy."
"Most haven't. It's been dismissed as fantasy for so long that few even remember it exists. But I studied the old texts in my youth, back when I thought I might become a scholar instead of a lord." He looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "This child, Anastasia. Born of human and dragon, conceived in a time of war, carrying the bloodline of Aureflame... this child might be the special one we need."
"Father, that's..."
"Impossible? Like dragons and humans having a child together?" Noiran smiled faintly. "We're already deep into impossible territory, daughter. Why not go all the way?"
Anastasia placed her hand over her stomach again, feeling the weight of her father's words settle over her like a mantle. A prophecy. A special child. The anomaly that would shift the balance.
It seemed too grand, too impossible. But then again, everything about this situation was impossible.
"What do we do now?" she asked quietly.
"Now?" Noiran moved back to his desk, his mind already working through the practical details. "Now we prepare. We'll announce your condition in a few weeks, once it becomes harder to hide. We'll say the father was a noble officer who died at Millbrook, which will explain why the child has no paternal family coming forward. It's a clean story, tragic but acceptable."
"And when the child is born?"
"We raise them with love and care, as any grandchild of mine deserves. We teach them to be strong, to be wise, to be ready for whatever destiny has in store." He looked at her with an intensity she rarely saw. "And we watch, Anastasia. We watch for signs of what this child might become."
Anastasia nodded slowly, feeling the enormity of what lay ahead. She was going to be a mother. Her child would grow up without a father, would carry a secret that could never be fully revealed, would bear the weight of being something the world had never seen before.
But they would be loved. Protected. Given every chance to thrive.
And perhaps, just perhaps, Noiran was right. Perhaps this child born of impossible love, carrying the blood of two races, was exactly what the dying realm needed.
"Raviel," she whispered, so quietly her father might not have heard. "I wish you were here to see this. To know that our love created something so precious."
But Raviel was gone, his sacrifice written into the annals of heroes, his name spoken with reverence by those he'd saved. He would never hold his child, never see their first steps, never teach them the ways of dragons.
All Anastasia could do was carry his memory forward, and raise their child to be worthy of the legacy both bloodlines represented.
"Get some rest," Noiran said gently. "You're carrying precious cargo now. You need to take care of yourself."
Anastasia nodded and moved toward the door. But before she left, she turned back one last time.
"Do you really think it's true? The prophecy?"
Noiran was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. "I think the realm is dying, Anastasia. I think we have less than a century before the barriers collapse completely and everything we know is consumed by chaos. I think we're desperate for hope, for anything that suggests we might survive this." He met her eyes. "And I think that sometimes, when the world needs a miracle, the impossible happens. You're living proof of that."
Anastasia touched her stomach one more time, feeling the flutter of something that might have been movement or might have been her imagination.
"Then let's hope you're right, Father. For all our sakes."
She left the study, closing the door softly behind her. Outside, the night was quiet, peaceful in a way that felt almost fragile. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the sound of guards making their rounds, their voices low and comfortable.
The realm continued on, unaware that within the walls of the Velnova estate, the impossible had taken root. Unaware that a child unlike any other was growing, waiting to be born into a world that desperately needed something, anything, to shift the balance back toward hope.
Anastasia made her way to her chambers, her hand never leaving her stomach. Inside her, a piece of Raviel lived on. Inside her, perhaps, the future of the Middle Realm was taking shape.
She didn't know if her child would be the prophesied anomaly, the special one her father spoke of. She didn't know if they would have the power to save a dying realm.
But she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
This child would be loved. This child would be protected. And this child would be given every chance to become whoever and whatever they were meant to be.
For now, that would have to be enough.
The moon rose higher, casting silver light across the estate. In her chambers, Anastasia finally allowed herself to sleep, one hand still resting protectively over the impossible life growing within her.
And in that life, so small and new and fragile, the blood of two races mingled. Human determination and dragon fire, human adaptability and dragon strength, human mortality and dragon legacy.
The world's first anomaly slept, unaware of the expectations already being placed upon it, unaware of the prophecies and the desperate hopes and the weight of two bloodlines.
But time would reveal all.