There was a silence in Raezion's heart he couldn't explain. It wasn't sadness—it was absence. As if something essential had been carved out before he was born.
He had lived with Kairon's family for two years now. Draemax had grown swiftly, now the size of a large hound, with sleek black scales and glowing silver eyes. She often rested on the rooftops, her presence as calm and watchful as a sentinel star.
But inside Raezion, the hollowness persisted.
It gnawed at him most when he saw how easily the others loved one another.
One evening, during training with Tharyn, the eldest son, that silence burst.
Tharyn was relentless—his strikes too precise, his tone sharp.
"You're holding back again," Tharyn growled. "Why do you always pull your strength at the last second?"
Raezion panted, sweat trickling down his brow. "Because… I don't want to hurt you."
"Then don't fight," Tharyn snapped. "Real warriors don't fear their power. They understand it."
Raezion clenched his fists. "And if I understand it too well—what then?"
He turned, and Tharyn saw it.
Just for a second.
A silver flicker behind Raezion's eyes. Cold. Cosmic.
Not fury. Not sorrow.
Void.
Tharyn stepped back, sword lowering slightly. "What… was that?"
But Raezion didn't answer. Instead, he walked into the lava gardens beyond the estate, where only demons of noble blood could safely meditate. Draemax followed, sensing his imbalance.
There, alone beneath the blood-red moons, Raezion screamed.
He screamed until his throat bled—until the ground trembled—and until shadows around him stirred like they knew his voice.
And something ancient did know it.
> "You fear your birthright," Draemax said, speaking for the first time in complete words, her voice echoing inside his mind like velvet thunder. "But it does not fear you."
Raezion's eyes widened. "What… are you?"
She curled around him protectively.
> "Not what. Who. I am Draemax, daughter of the last Dreadfire Broodmother. But through you, I was reborn. And in that rebirth, I carry a piece of… him. The one you used to be."
Raezion's hands trembled. "Who was I?"
But Draemax only stared into the void of the volcanic sky.
> "The question is not who you were. The question is—can you survive remembering?"