Somewhere beyond the reach of mortal comprehension — in a realm woven from shimmering rivers of light, drifting islands of raw magic, and stars suspended like jeweled lanterns in an endless celestial sea — two divine sisters gazed down upon a single, radiant soul.
Lilith, Queen of Night and Desire, the goddess whose very presence could unravel the hearts of kings and summon beasts to their knees, chuckled darkly. Her midnight skin shimmered with otherworldly luster, her crimson wings stretching lazily behind her. Silver hair cascaded down her shoulders like a silken waterfall, catching the light of distant suns. Eyes like molten rubies glimmered with mischief and satisfaction.
["I hope our dear generals appreciate their retirement gift,"] she purred, a grin curling her perfect lips.
Beside her, Tiamat — the World-Devouring Dragon Mother, ancient and beautiful in her dread majesty — smirked knowingly. Her long hair, dark as midnight with streaks of burning gold, billowed like storm clouds in an unseen wind. Golden, serpentine eyes shimmered with the wisdom of forgotten eons, their depths deep enough to drown entire realms.
["Oh, they'll be very busy raising a little monster like him,"] Tiamat mused, her voice a melodic rumble like mountains shifting beneath the earth.
Below them, far beneath the veil of the heavens, a single, flickering soul drifted downward. Its light pulsed with untapped power, neither mortal nor divine — something in between, something… new.
The cosmos shifted.
And I was pulled into the light.
⸻
There was warmth.
An overwhelming cocoon of heat and gentle pressure, like floating within a womb made of light and velvet. Strange, muffled sounds filled the air around me — low, steady beats like the pulse of a giant heart, and voices both sharp and soft, carrying a language I did not yet understand but felt etched into my bones.
I struggled against the weight of my fragile, newborn body, lids fluttering open as shapes and colors blurred together in a haze.
A deep, rumbling voice filled the space around me, thick with pride, laced with ancient power that tasted of storms and wild skies.
"There he is," the voice rumbled, both thunderous and tender.
A softer, sultry laugh followed a sound that made the very air seem to shimmer.
"He's perfect," the second voice cooed, thick with joy and something deeper — something possessive. "Just as we dreamed."
My newborn eyes, still unaccustomed to form and light, focused enough to see two immense figures peering down at me, their features impossibly grand, as if the world itself bent around their forms.
The first was colossal, towering above all, his massive shoulders broad enough to carry mountains. His skin was a deep, storm-dark brown, like the color of thunderheads before a deluge. Upon his arms and throat shimmered the faint outline of draconic scales, catching glimmers of light with each subtle movement. His hair was wild and thick, cascading past his shoulders in streaks of deep blue laced with lightning-white strands, moving as though alive, crackling with latent storm energy.
A heavy black eyepatch, engraved with ancient runes, covered one eye, while the other gleamed like molten gold — sharp, ancient, and filled with fierce pride. Across his cloak lay a magnificent crest: a dragon impaled by a bolt of searing lightning.
He was a living tempest clad in flesh.
"My son," the man rumbled, voice vibrating through bone and blood alike. "I am Draven Tempest… last of the Storm Dragons, and now, your father."
Beside him stood a woman whose beauty seemed capable of halting time itself. Tall, graceful, and devastating in her presence, she was a vision born of moonlight and fire. Her skin glowed with an ethereal, flawless pallor, her long black hair cascading down her back like a curtain of silk, threaded with glints of crimson-like flickering embers.
Two slender golden horns curled from her brow, crowned like a diadem of status and command. Her eyes — deep emerald green — shimmered with both tenderness and wicked promise. Behind her, leathery wings the color of bloodwine folded with elegant grace.
The air around her carried the scent of night-blooming flowers and warm, spiced winds.
She reached out, brushing a fingertip against my tiny cheek with impossible gentleness.
"And I am Seraphina Tempest," she murmured, her voice the sound of silk upon stone, rich and intoxicating. "The Crimson Temptress… once the fiercest general of the Night Legion. Now, your mother."
A thousand thoughts tumbled in my newborn mind. Scales… wings… horns… Had I been born to a dragon and a succubus? Or something greater?
As though plucking the question from my unformed thoughts, a familiar, sultry voice echoed faintly within the corners of my mind.
["Surprise, little Shin,"] Lilith's laughter purred. ["We made sure your family would be… extraordinary."]
Tiamat's deeper, maternal voice followed, brimming with ancient warmth.
["They are our finest — our fiercest. Through them, you shall inherit a legacy of power that will shake worlds."]
Draven lifted me high, turning toward the vast, shadowed hall that stretched out before us. It was a cathedral unlike any mortal structure — carved from obsidian and shimmering crystal, its vaulted ceilings lost in darkness, its walls lined with ancient runes that pulsed with barely contained power.
"My son," Draven's voice rose, crashing like a thunderclap across the hall. "Heir of the Tempest Bloodline! Born of storm and flame, destined to reclaim what was lost!"
A chorus of unseen voices echoed back, a thousand ancestors in spectral attendance.
Seraphina laughed, a sound like wine poured from crystal, before pressing a kiss to my brow. "And future lord of a new age… our pride… our little king."
For the briefest moment, the shimmering glamour cloaking my parents lifted.
Where Draven Tempest once stood now loomed a colossal dragon, scales gleaming with storm-born brilliance, wings unfurled wide enough to shroud the heavens, crowned with jagged horns like spears of clouded lightning. His eye burned with the fury of the tempest itself.
Seraphina revealed her true form beside him — no mere succubus, but a celestial being forged from beauty and darkness, her wings vast and blazing crimson, her laughter carrying the power to seduce stars from the sky.
"It was too much for my fragile, newborn senses — mortal, yet something more."
I closed my eyes, the exhaustion of my new existence pulling me down like a tide.
And as I drifted into newborn sleep, safe in the arms of beings who could tear nations asunder, a single thought lingered, bewildered and fearful.
I'm not ready for this.
Not yet.
But someday…
Someday, I would rise — and the world would tremble.
⸻
The grand hall fell silent in the soft glow of ancient crystals.
Draven cradled the sleeping infant a moment longer before lowering me into a velvet-lined cradle. It shimmered with protective runes, each pulse a ward against curses, spirits, and mortal harm. His massive hand lingered on my tiny form, a touch gentle despite its power.
Seraphina stood beside him, her green eyes luminous as twin jewels in the dark.
"You can feel it already, can't you?" she murmured, brushing a stray lock of midnight hair from her face.
Draven's lone golden eye narrowed.
"The storm in his blood… it's stronger than anything. Even the ancients pale before it."
Seraphina's smile twisted with pride and something heavier — something resembling fear.
"He won't just inherit our gifts," she said softly. "He will forge them anew."
Draven grunted, arms folding. "He'll have to. This world… it won't be kind to him."
"No," Seraphina agreed, her fingers brushing across the embroidered crest upon his cloak. "But he won't be weak. He carries the legacy of two worlds. Storm and shadow. Blood and temptation. He will be a dragon among men… a storm that will either remake the world…" She paused, a gleam in her eye. "…or destroy it."
For a long while, they stood in silence, guardians of a future neither could yet fully imagine.
Then, Draven's deep laugh rumbled through the chamber.
"Let the world prepare," he said, voice an oath carved from thunder and war. "Because our son… our little king… will be unstoppable."
Seraphina leaned against him, her crimson wings folding around them both.
And beneath the watchful eyes of gods and ancestors alike, Shin Tempest slept — blissfully unaware of the storms he would one day unleash.
⸻
Far away — beyond burning seas, shattered kingdoms, and dying stars — a figure stirred within a forgotten tomb, buried deep beneath the earth.
Eyes like twin pools of blood snapped open, ancient, furious, and unyielding.
A voice, brittle with age and venomous hate, shattered the silence.
"Tempest…"
Black talons dragged across the cracked stone as the creature rose from its long slumber. Magic thick as spoiled blood flooded the chamber, old and ravenous.
Around it, unseen voices whispered:
"The heir has been born."
"The bloodline rises again."
"The cycle begins anew."
A terrible grin split the creature's face.
"So be it," it rasped, its voice shaking the very bones of the earth.
"Let the child gather his armies… let him build his little empire."
It leaned deeper into the shadows.
"I will be waiting."
Let me see if you are heir I will serve or go against.
Hopefully you are a wise ruler young Tempest.
And the darkness stirred