FANGS OF THE THRONE

The Birth Of Unity

Vyreth raced through the palace corridors, heart pounding in her chest. The sound of Seraphine’s screams echoed faintly through the stone walls, piercing her soul like a blade. She was almost there—almost at her daughter’s side—when two dragon guards stepped in her path.

“Lady Vyreth,” one said, bowing slightly, “we’re sorry. You cannot pass.”

Vyreth’s eyes blazed with fury. “My daughter is in labor. She needs me. Stand aside.”

But before the guards could respond, Queen Celeste appeared behind them, graceful and composed, her sapphire cloak trailing like smoke.

“I will go to her,” Celeste said gently. “She is bearing my son’s child. I will help her deliver it safely.”

Vyreth opened her mouth to protest, but something about Celeste’s calm steadiness gave her pause. With a clenched jaw, she nodded reluctantly, watching as Celeste swept past.

Inside the chamber, chaos reigned. The air was thick with incense and heat. Seraphine lay on the bed, sweat glistening on her brow, gripping the sheets tightly as pain coursed through her.

“Selyra!” she cried out, voice breaking. “Where is my mother?!”

“She’s coming,” Selyra said, holding Seraphine’s hand firmly. “I sent for her!”

“She won’t make it in time!” Seraphine’s voice cracked as another contraction hit. “Selyra… my child… it will die. There’s a curse! You don’t understand—my baby will die!”

Selyra’s heart clenched. “A curse? What curse?”

Before Seraphine could explain, the door opened, and Queen Celeste entered, her presence calm but commanding.

“You’re doing well,” Celeste said, taking a seat beside her. “You’re strong. You’ll give Alaric a beautiful child—an heir.”

Seraphine shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. “No. You don’t understand. It’s cursed. My mother—she saw it. A vision. If I give birth, the child will bring ruin!”

Celeste frowned, thinking Seraphine was delirious. “No ruin will come. Trust your strength. Do this for your son… for Alaric.”

“I need my mother,” Seraphine sobbed. “Please, I need her—”

“Push now,” Celeste said firmly. “The child is coming.”

With a strangled cry, Seraphine clenched her fists and pushed with everything she had. Her cries rose in pitch—until finally, a sound broke through the tension.

A cry.

The wail of a newborn filled the chamber.

Celeste, eyes wide, lifted the child. “It’s a boy,” she said softly, placing him in Seraphine’s arms.

Seraphine’s body trembled. All the fear, all the pain… vanished as she looked down at him.

“My son…” she whispered.

Meanwhile, in the high council chamber, Alaric sat stiffly, surrounded by advisors. Morren stood beside him, as did Lord Theron, Alaric’s uncle, a seasoned warrior with sharp silver eyes and scars that whispered of old wars.

“She’ll be fine,” Morren said softly. “She’s strong.”

Alaric said nothing. His hands were balled into fists, knuckles white.

“She’s not alone,” Theron added. “The queen is with her. She’s not a girl anymore, Alaric. She’s a mother now.”

Just then, Celeste walked in, her face unreadable for a moment—then it softened.

“She’s delivered,” she said. “A son.”

Alaric rose without a word and rushed past her.

Celeste moved to stop him, but Theron placed a hand on her arm. “Let him go,” he said. “He’s a father now.”

Seraphine lay in the bed, her body weak, her spirit burning with new light. She rocked her baby gently, humming a soft melody her uncle used to sing to her.

The door opened.

Alaric entered, breathless.

Seraphine looked up and smiled, tears filling her eyes again. “Alaric… look. Our son.”

Alaric moved to her side slowly, his eyes never leaving the tiny bundle in her arms. She handed him the baby.

He held the child like he was holding the stars.

“You look beautiful,” he said to Seraphine.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Their eyes met—and in that moment, Seraphine saw her father’s eyes in Alaric. The same quiet pride. The same overwhelmed joy. Her breath caught.

“What’s his name?” Alaric asked.

She smiled. "Zayion " It means unity. He will be the bridge between fire and fang. He will unite what hate tried to destroy.”

“Our prince,” Alaric murmured.

Later, Selyra sat quietly at Seraphine’s side while the baby slept in a nearby cradle.

“What did you mean, earlier?” Selyra asked. “About a curse?”

Seraphine looked down at her hands, as if afraid to speak it again. “My mother saw visions. A curse placed long ago—on Eren, Keador… and their descendants. She believed one of their children would bring ruin to everything we know. She saw a girl… a girl born of light and fire, who would destroy all the realms.”

Selyra’s heart skipped. “But… you had a boy.”

Seraphine nodded. “So maybe it’s over. Maybe the curse ends with me.”

Just then, the door opened again.

Vyreth entered, her face pale and shaken. “Did they hurt you?”

Seraphine shook her head. “No. Look, Mother. It’s a boy.”

Vyreth approached slowly, staring at the child. “You prayed?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Vyreth didn’t speak for a moment. Her face was unreadable. But then she turned, her voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t forget what they did,” she whispered. “They killed your uncle. They killed Keador. They took your brother. You still don’t know if he’s alive. Don’t ever forget that, Seraphine.”

Seraphine held her baby tighter. “They’re gone, Mom… but my son lives.”

She sat in silence, gazing down at the soft breathing of her newborn. Her fingers brushed his tiny brow, and a sudden wave of sorrow crashed over her heart.

“I miss him,” she whispered.

Selyra looked over. “ uncle?”

Tears slid down Seraphine’s cheeks. “He was more than my my uncle. He was my heart. When I was small, he would lift me up on his shoulders, spin me until I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. He called me ‘little ember.’ He said I burned brighter than the stars.”

She closed her eyes. “When I was scared… he’d hold me and hum. He never let me cry alone. Never.”

She looked out the window, where moonlight shimmered like his silver scales.

“I thought he’d be here. I thought… I’d hand him my child and say, ‘He’s yours too.’”

Vyreth looked down, her expression softening.

“He would have loved him,” she whispered.

Seraphine smiled softly. “He does. Wherever he is… he knows.”

She kissed her baby’s forehead.

“His fire lives in him. In us. I will never let it fade.”

And as her baby slept peacefully in her arms, the warmth of Keador’s memory wrapped around them like a protective flame.