The stars held their breath.
The skies above the Sanctuary of Dusk and Dawn rippled with ancient light — not golden, not dark, but deep. The kind of light born in the center of storms. The kind of light that doesn't shine… it speaks.
Seraphina screamed — not from pain, but from power.
Her body arched, drenched in sweat and glowing symbols that danced like fireflies on her skin. The very earth pulsed beneath her as if it, too, was part of this labor.
Around her, the Sanctuary shivered. The Watcher stood silent in the doorway, bearing witness as was its ancient vow.
Ravon knelt beside her, his hands trembling. Not from fear. From awe.
"Breathe," he whispered. "I'm here."
She gritted her teeth, a tear sliding down her cheek.
> "She's… coming. I can feel her wings…"
Another contraction ripped through her. But she didn't cry out this time.
She sang.
A raw, primal melody born of fire and stardust, sorrow and joy, life and death. The kind of song that hadn't been heard since the first realms were born.
Light cracked the sky.
The Veil trembled behind them.
And with one final push — not of pain, but of prophecy — the child came forth.
Soft.
Small.
Luminous.
---
The First Breath
She did not cry.
She opened her eyes — wide, glowing not with innocence but knowing — and simply breathed.
And as she inhaled, the Veil behind them tore silently. Not in destruction.
In surrender.
The realms bent around that breath. Demon lords wept in their keeps. Angels dropped their swords mid-flight. The stars blinked twice.
And in the hush that followed, Seraphina held her daughter against her chest, shaking.
Ravon's arms encircled them both. A family. A trinity.
The child blinked once — her gaze ancient, pure, and filled with both fire and grace.
She reached out and touched her father's cheek.
He flinched.
She smiled.
> "She chose us," Seraphina whispered. "Even before I did."
Ravon kissed her forehead. "What is her name?"
The child cooed softly, and the wind whispered it — as if even nature had waited to say it aloud.
> "Elira."
> Crowned in dusk. Carried by dawn. The first light after the fall.