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ALARIC

The Eyrie to Castletide—the fortress of Kael, Lord of Water

After, when her soft cries have quieted, and she’s trembling in my arms with satisfaction and sleep, I do not move.

I cannot.

Jules— my Myrrin, my viyella , my zharaya —is draped across my chest like she belongs there.

Because she does.

Her scent, wild and familiar, is laced with the heady truth that we are no longer just two souls bound by magic and choice.

We are more. A true family now.

The healer confirmed what my own instincts, and the zareth already whispered to me.

My mate carries our young.

Twins born of Dragon and heart, of shadow and hope.

Of love I never believed I was worthy of until her.

I press a reverent kiss to her forehead and feel her smile in her sleep.

Gods, she’s radiant.

Fierce and soft. Flame and stone. Mortal and magic.

The ache I feel looking at her is so vast I don’t know how to hold it all inside. I want to fight every enemy, burn every realm, and silence every whisper that might suggest she does not belong.

That she is not everything.

That she is not meant to rule beside me.

That our young are anything but miracles.

Screw them all.

Jules is the best thing that ever happened to me and I will spend eternity proving it to her.

And to that, that means I must make sure she is safe. Protected. Always.

Carefully, I slide from beneath her and pull the silk sheets over her bare skin.

She murmurs my name but doesn’t wake.

I move to the center of the chamber and raise my palms.

With words in the old tongue, I call forth the sacred wards—the same ones carved into the stone of The Eyrie centuries ago by the first Lords of Nightfall.

Sigils of protection and permanence. Of belonging. Of bloodline.

My silver fire licks the corners of the room as the magic seals into place, shimmering silver and red and gold.

No harm will touch her here.

Not while I breathe. Not while I burn.

When I’m finished, I return to our bed, gathering her close again.

Her head finds its home in the curve of my throat.

And I let myself breathe.

One day, our young will ask about this moment. About their mother. About the realm we rebuilt together.

And I will say this.

It began with a storm, a stolen human, and a plan to cheat the Fates.

But what I found instead was something I never expected. It was tremendous.

Love.

Fire.

Everything I never knew was possible for me.

And I would choose her again. I would choose them again.

Every single time.

And now it’s my duty to ensure Nightfall is ready to receive the gift of my children.

That it is the haven it once was.

I kiss her head once more, “I shall return soon, Myrrin .”

The room dims as the wards lock into place.

My breath slows beside Jules’ steady one, and for a single heartbeat, I allow myself to imagine a quiet life.

Then, I rise.

I do not wake her.

My viyella needs rest.

She has fought for this realm and suffered for it.

And now, she carries our future in her womb.

That sacred knowledge alone makes me want to stay. But duty calls.

Always, there is duty.

I call to the magic in my blood, and the Eyrie shifts beneath me.

Winds answer.

Stone sings.

The zareth pulsing beneath my skin coils outward and bends space itself. My wings extend, bracing for the magic that will soon whisk me away.

And it does.

In the blink of a breath, I vanish— traveling through ley-lines, through flame, through stone and time itself —until I arrive at the cliffs of Castletide, Lord Kael’s keep.

The air is heavy with salt and storm.

Waves crash far below, and the ocean pulses with ancient power.

Kael, Dagan, and Thorne wait for me in the watchtower, their silhouettes lit by the violet light of the fading moon.

I step forward, my boots echoing off wet stone.

“Do you have it?” Kael asks, his voice low, grim.

“I have the crown,” I reply, reaching into the folds of my cloak and pulling the relic free.

Ancient, obsidian-black and etched with silver veins that pulse faintly with old magic.

“I figured this place was safest. They’ve already tracked it to the Eyrie once.”

Thorne’s mouth twists. “So you’re finished hiding it? Are you saying you don’t want it, don’t want the throne anymore?”

I look down at the crown and my heart squeezes—for the fallen Prime who bore it last, and for everything we lost since the SoulTakers returned.

“I’ll wear it, if I must,” I say. “But Nightfall is not the only thing that matters to me now.”

“Ah,” Thorne drawls, that wicked grin curling across his smoke-smeared face. “You mean your human mate . I suppose the great illusionist himself couldn’t keep up the ruse forever, eh?”

His voice is teasing, but there’s a flicker of something else in it. Something brittle, vulnerable even.

I don’t rise to the bait.

“No illusion is strong enough to outwit the Fates,” I say, my voice sharper than steel, my stance unshakable.

“And I don’t just mean my viyella. I mean my family .”

That word lands like a spell.

The room goes silent.

Dagan bows his head. “Lord Alaric,” he murmurs with quiet reverence, his earth-dark gaze filled with something rare— hope.

Kael’s gaze sharpens, his ocean-colored eyes narrowing, the air around him stilling like the hush before a storm.

“No,” he breathes, slow and stunned. “It can’t be. Is it truly possible?”

I nod, the pride in me fierce and grounding, like the pulse of the zareth itself. “It is. Jules is expecting.”

A pause.

“Twins.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty— it’s thick with shock, wonder, and something that tastes almost like awe.

Even Thorne, usually quick with a crude joke or jaded laugh, goes still.

I press my palm over my chest. Over where I feel them—my mate, my children.

My whole precious world.

“I will protect them,” I say, not a promise but a vow. “With every breath I draw. Nightfall may call for a Prime. But I—I have something more important now. I have her. I have them. I will not lose either to ambition or war.”

“You’ve changed,” Dagan rumbles, a flicker of emotion warming his granite voice. “You speak with the weight of a man who finally understands what it is to live for something.”

Kael nods, quiet and thoughtful. “We all must change, I think. If we’re to survive what’s coming.”

“And it’s coming,” I say. “Don’t think for a moment that Idris or the SoulTakers are finished with us. They’ve tasted our blood. They’ll come back for more. Stronger. Smarter.”

“Then let us meet them with everything we’ve got,” Thorne says. “And if that means finding mates, maybe not like yours— not a real mate —then so be it. I say we stay the course.”

“You mean to follow the path I set? But I was wrong!” I ask, a flicker of dread stirring inside me.

“Don’t get self-important,” Thorne scoffs. “You got lucky. We’re just trying to improve our odds.”

“Luck,” I repeat under my breath, though I know what I have with Jules is anything but.

Dagan folds his arms, his gaze steady.

“You may have found your heart, brother, but the rest of us still need strength. If the zareth bond is our best weapon, we’d be fools not to seek it.”

Kael adds, “We’re not chasing love—we’re seeking survival. If finding mates on Earth offers us power strong enough to challenge Idris and restore balance to Nightfall, then we will continue. With or without your approval.”

Thorne shrugs. “And let’s be honest, you’re just nervous one of us might be worthy of the crown, too.”

That makes my magic rise, unbidden. A low growl rumbles through my chest.

“I told you. The crown doesn’t matter to me anymore. My family does.”

“Enough,” Kael says firmly, cutting through the tension like a blade. “We are not enemies. We want the same thing. Peace. Strength. A future. Let’s not tear each other apart while trying to save our world.”

I breathe deep, then nod once.

“Very well. But tread carefully. The Fates don’t look kindly on those who try to manipulate them. I nearly lost everything before I found what mattered.”

“And now that you have,” Dagan says, “you’ll fight harder than ever to keep it.”

I meet their gazes one by one. “Yes. I will.”

And the oath that follows isn't just mine.

It's all of ours. A silent pact forged in blood, brotherhood, and the terrifying, sacred power of love.

Thorne steps forward, eyes gleaming like flame. “Then we stand ready.”

I look at each of them— my brothers by blood and bond —and I feel it.

A shift.

Not just in the magic, or the air, or the realm itself.

But in us .

In what we fight for now.

The crown is no longer just a symbol of rule. It is a promise.

To protect. To rise. To lead with more than power.

To lead with love.

I set the crown down on the stone altar of Castletide, its jagged edges catching the sea-silver light that spills in through the high arched windows.

The weight of it is real. Heavy with legacy, soaked in sacrifice.

One by one, we each place our wards upon it— ancient seals of water, flame, earth, and air.

Magic hums through the chamber, the crown locking beneath our protection, hidden from those who would seek its power for ruin.

When the last spark fades, I turn away.

Let it rest. Let it wait.

My feelings now? The crown can go to another with my blessings.

Because right now, in this breath, in this heartbeat— I have something far more precious to protect.

“May your good fortune hold, Alaric,” Kael says, his tone quieter than usual, the sea in his voice calm, but watching.

“Thank you, brother.” I pause at the threshold and glance back. “And please—consider my words. Trying to find a mate with a lie on your lips isn’t as easy as you’d think.”

Kael huffs a breath that might be laughter, or regret. “Maybe not. But for some of us, it’s worth a shot.”

I could argue. Could warn him again about trying to fool the Fates.

But what’s the use?

Some truths must be lived to be learned.

Instead, I offer him a small nod— equal parts warning and well-wish —and step into the portal’s shimmer.

The pull of the zareth guides me home like a lodestone to its true north.

And gods help me, I’m already aching for her.

For Jules.

My heart, my viyella.

My mate who fought beside me, burned for me, saved my people, and then looked me in the eye and loved me in spite or because of it all.

She is my reason.

And now, she carries my legacy.

I feel the flicker of it even before I step through the veil— the thrum of two tiny heartbeats woven into the bond between us.

Twins. Ours.

The next breath I take is the first in a new life.

A life I will guard with fang and flame and every ounce of the Dragon Lord I am.

Because for the first time in all the ages of Nightfall, I am no longer alone.

I am loved.

And I am home.