Darkness held her gently at first—soft, warm, almost comforting. Then the warmth shifted. It sharpened. Wrapped around her. Pulled her from the void.
Voices echoed far away.
"Her pulse is weak."
"She's overwhelmed."
"She wasn't ready."
"She needs to wake."
Four voices.
Four tones.
Four different storms brushing against her.
Rhea's consciousness drifted upward like a leaf rising from water. The darkness thinned. Warmth pressed against her cheek. Something brushed her wrist—heat like fire. Another sensation brushed her forehead—cool as falling rain. A faint breeze slid down her spine, and a deep vibration beneath her body pulsed like the earth itself was breathing.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
Someone inhaled sharply.
"She's waking."
The world returned in pieces—light first, blinding and too bright. Then sound, muffled and echoing. Then sensation, sharp and overwhelming.
When her vision finally cleared, the first face she saw didn't look human at all.
Silver hair fell in soft strands over storm-blue eyes that watched her like she was the center of the sky. His expression was calm, too calm for someone who had just torn open the heavens. Air swirled gently around him as if obeying his breath.
Rhea stared up at him, heart pounding violently.
He stared back.
Neither spoke.
Then she realized something far more alarming:
She wasn't alone with him.
There were three others.
All impossibly beautiful.
All too intense.
All too still.
And all watching her like she had been ripped straight from their dreams.
Her breath caught sharply.
She tried to sit up—
and warm fingers immediately steadied her.
Not harming.
Not holding.
Just keeping her from falling.
She jerked at the touch, startled, and looked to her left.
A man with long, ocean-blue hair and eyes that shimmered like deep water knelt beside her. His presence was soothing, quiet, but heavy with an emotion she didn't recognize. He touched her wrist as if it were porcelain.
"Easy," he murmured, voice like a tide brushing sand. "You fainted."
Rhea froze—not because of the words, but because when he spoke, the water inside her body… reacted. A shiver traveled down her spine.
She pulled her hand away, trembling.
His gaze followed her movement, soft but unbearably intense.
She turned quickly to her right—only to meet eyes that burned like molten gemstone. The man beside her radiated heat in waves, his black hair streaked with red at the ends like flame tips. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching her with a hungry intensity that made something inside her belly tighten in fear.
Or something else.
"You scared the entire world falling like that," he said, voice rough, like smoldering coals. "Next time, warn me before your magic explodes."
Rhea's lips parted in confusion.
Next time?
Explodes?
She shook her head quickly and looked away from him—only to lock eyes with the last of them.
The last one sat slightly behind the others, half in shadow, his presence heavy enough to make her breath stutter. His hair was deep brown, his eyes gold like sunlit stone. A silent, powerful force radiated from him—protector, destroyer, ancient.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
One look told her everything:
He would kill for her.
He would die for her.
And he would not apologize for either.
Rhea scrambled backward on the bed, heart nearly bursting from her chest.
"Who… who are you?" she whispered.
The air shifted.
The temperature around her changed.
Shadows deepened.
All four of them reacted to her voice like a whip had cracked through the room.
The silver-haired one—calm, cold, unreadable—was the first to speak.
"Aelion," he said softly. "Sky Dragon God."
The blue-haired one touched his heart. "Seryon. Water Dragon God."
The red-black-haired one smirked faintly, leaning closer. "Kaelith. Fire Dragon God."
The golden-eyed one spoke last, his voice deep and low like distant thunder. "Draeven. Earth Dragon God."
Rhea stared at them, frozen, unable to breathe.
Gods.
Not men.
Not mortals.
Gods who had vanished five thousand years ago.
"No," she whispered. "That's a fairy tale. A story. You can't— you're not—"
Kaelith leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"We are."
Aelion's gaze softened for the first time.
"You've felt us, haven't you?"
Rhea flinched.
The water.
The fire.
The wind.
The shadows.
Her bath.
Her breath.
Her body reacting.
"No…" she breathed, trembling. "I didn't mean— I didn't call— I didn't—"
Seryon reached toward her, then stopped when she recoiled.
"You didn't call us on purpose," he murmured, voice low. "But your magic awakened. We felt every pulse of it."
Kaelith's jaw flexed in frustration.
"You nearly tore the veil between realms without even knowing your own strength."
Aelion tilted his head slightly.
"You are the Heart Core. Our fifth element."
Draeven's voice rumbled softly.
"You are ours. You were born for us."
Rhea's heart almost stopped.
"No," she whispered, shaking. "You're wrong. I'm a healer. Just a healer. A princess. I'm not— I'm not anyone's—"
Kaelith rose slowly, like a flame unfurling.
"Say it again," he whispered, dangerous and soft. "Say you're 'just' something."
Seryon shot him a warning look.
"Kaelith—"
But Kaelith ignored him.
"You tore open the sky," he said, stepping closer. "You woke four gods. You made the elements bend for you."
He leaned down until his breath brushed her cheek.
"You think that happens to 'just' anyone?"
Rhea trembled violently.
Aelion moved then, stepping between Kaelith and Rhea with quiet authority.
"She is frightened. Step back."
Kaelith clicked his tongue but obeyed, though his eyes never left her.
Aelion turned to Rhea again, his voice infinitely gentle.
"We will explain everything. But first—"
He knelt beside her.
And lowered his head to meet her eyes.
"What is your name?"
Rhea's breath caught.
Her throat tightened.
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
She opened her mouth—
and froze.
Because the moment she whispered—
"R… Rhea…"
—everything changed.
Aelion inhaled softly, eyelids fluttering as if tasting the sound of it.
Seryon's lips parted in a quiet, reverent breath.
Draeven's jaw tightened, golden eyes darkening with something primal.
Kaelith's expression shattered—just for a moment—before hardening again with intense, burning hunger.
"Rhea," Kaelith repeated, voice breaking on the first syllable.
It sounded like a vow.
It sounded like claiming.
It sounded like destiny.
Rhea pulled her knees to her chest.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
Aelion's expression softened.
"Everything."
Seryon bowed his head.
"Your trust."
Draeven's voice rolled through the room.
"Your safety."
Kaelith's eyes burned.
"Your body, your magic, your heart—your everything."
Rhea's breath hitched as her world tilted.
"No," she whispered. "I can't— I don't want— I'm not—"
"You are," Aelion said softly.
"The prophecy's bride."
"The Heart Core."
"Our destiny."
"Our salvation."
"Our bond."
Rhea began to shake.
She didn't understand any of this.
She wasn't ready.
And yet—
When Aelion reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, she didn't pull away.
Because her skin warmed.
Her magic stirred.
Her pulse jumped.
She didn't know her destiny.
But her body remembered them.
And outside the palace, lightning cracked through the sky as the world braced for what her awakening would unleash.