Azarel cried out in agony, her back arched against the silk-drenched pillows.
"Hrrghh—do something! Get the baby out!" she screamed at the nurse, her voice ragged from pain.
"Please, Your Highness, calm yourself," the nurse, Renie, pleaded, beads of sweat on her brow. "You know you're carrying a powerful child. This was never going to be an easy birth."Azarel gritted her teeth, clutching the edge of the sheets. "But I'm suffering, Renie! The pain—it's unbearable…"
Renie leaned in, her eyes flickering with hidden knowledge. "That's because you were once human. You're not birthing a mortal child, Azarel. You carry the heir of the Persian underworld—the son of Dracula himself. So scream, cry, curse the heavens if you must… but push!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
Outside the Queen's Chambers, Dracula paced like a restless storm, the heavy hem of his obsidian cloak whispering against the stone floor. His crimson eyes flared each time a scream pierced through the thick doors.
"What is taking her so long?" he growled, claws tapping against his folded arms.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Renie stepped out, her white apron stained with blood and sweat, cradling a bundle wrapped in lion-fur fabric. Her eyes were downcast, a conflicted sorrow in her face.Dracula turned swiftly. The moment his gaze fell upon the newborn, time froze.
"It's a boy, Your Majesty," Renie whispered and stepped forward, carefully handing the child into Dracula's awaiting arms.
The king's breath caught. The baby—his son—was otherworldly. Dark curls framed a porcelain face, and his tiny fists pulsed with a flicker of shadow and gold light. His eyes, though barely open, shimmered with ancient fire.
"What's with that look?" Dracula asked Renie coldly, not tearing his eyes away from his son.
"Her Highness… is not well," she murmured.
His crimson gaze finally lifted. "Come," he said tightly, thrusting the infant back into her arms. "Take the boy." Renie obeyed without a word.Dracula stormed toward the chamber doors—but before he could enter, a presence blocked his path.
His eyes glowed with rage. "Move… or face the wrath of a father and a king."
But when he looked up, the fury drained from his face. The figure before him stood tall, robed in deep emerald and midnight silks, her silver hair cascading like rivers of moonlight.
"Glinda," he said, his voice dipped in reluctant reverence."Have patience, Dracula. You are king not some frantic servant."
"How can I be calm?" His voice cracked. "She's suffering—
"I know," Glinda interrupted, raising her hand. Her voice was calm, but carried the weight of centuries. "But you forget who you are. You look pale, desperate. Cut it out. You are the King of Vampires. Your emotions will drown you if you let them."
He clenched his jaw, and his shoulders dropped slightly."I'm sorry, Dracula," she continued, her voice gentler now, "but Azarel's condition is worse than you think. You cannot see her not yet."
Dracula's expression darkened again. "Explain yourself."
"Listen to me carefully. Your son cannot be raised among your kind. He must live among humans—specifically the Royal line of Persia."You're suggesting exile?" he hissed.
"I'm suggesting survival," Glinda corrected. "That child… he holds power neither you nor I can comprehend. Even now, the threads of fate are spinning wildly around him. There are dark forces that sense him. If he stays among our kind, he will not live. And worse—his power could destroy Azarel. Her mortal body was never meant to carry such a force."
Dracula stiffened. "You're telling me… my son is a danger to his own mother?"
"Not by intention—but by nature."
He staggered back slightly, eyes filled with turmoil. "And if he leaves, she'll recover?"
"No guarantee," Glinda said gravely. "But her soul has retreated into a deep sleep. If there's any hope of her waking, it lies in their separation. The bond between mother and child is too powerful—too volatile in this case."
"So what would you have me do, Glinda? Hand my heir over to those weak, spineless creatures and hope for the best?"
"You married one," she said with a sharp brow.He faltered. "Azarel was different. She—she…"
"You have nothing more to say," Glinda interrupted. "Azarel is asleep. Before she slipped away, she whispered a single name… Damien. I believe that's what she intended to call your son."Dracula nodded slowly, the name echoing in his mind like a forgotten prophecy."So be it," he murmured. Then louder, with royal authority, "His name is Damien."A brief silence followed, before Glinda placed her hand over the baby's chest.
"He is to be taken to the Queen of Persia—your allies in the upper realm. Your son will rule both worlds. The underworld you built… and the human empire that fears you."
Dracula looked at the tiny face again, wonder and dread mixing behind his eyes. "But how will humans protect him?"
"They won't," Glinda said simply. "But I will place a spell—an old one, cast only once before. It will veil his power until the day comes when he must rise."
"And that day will come?"
She smiled faintly, eyes glowing like coals. "Oh, Dracula… the heavens have already begun to tremble."