It was said that the first angel descended upon earth. However, they didn't descend — no, they fell. They fell from grace, and from that fall came the first resonance. A mingling of human and the broken divine. From the impurity of fallen blood, resonances were born. And even now, generations later, the flaw remains. The hollow. However, there was Cassius. Cassius was born without a resonance mark already burned into his spine. That shouldn't have been possible. Not for someone so far removed from the fallen bloodline. But there it was — proof that the hollow never forgets its own.
The maid rushed in, muttering beneath her breath, words tangled in panic. "Unusual… this timing, so sudden, wrong, wrong…" She kept repeating, voice cracking with nerves. Births did not happen like this in their world. Not here. Not in the house of Valerius.
She fell into a low bow the moment she crossed into the chamber, knees trembling as she addressed him, Sir Dorian Valerius, the Grand Duke. Usually composed, always regal in poise and presence, he stood now disheveled, a white button down clinging to his frame, boots half laced, black curls damp with sweat dripping down into his eyes and worry dripping deeper into his thoughts.
He said nothing. Just stood there, 6'4 silent watching, stricken, as the room spun with motion and pain.
"Lady Selene," the maid whispered, sweat streaking her brow. She glanced at the woman on the bed, Selene Valerius, the Grand Duchess, was once Selene Tenebrius. A name uttered in hushed tones, a beauty carved from shadow. 5'11, sharp jawed, black hair pinned to perfection hours ago, now fallen in strands, soaked in labor's fever. Violet eyes once like glass, now wild, alert, defiant.
She groaned low.
Nurses pressed against her, calming, coaxing, praying. But Selene knew better. She heard the tremble in their voices. Felt the fear behind their hands.
"There's… another," one nurse whispered, voice tight. "We can feel it. But it's not his time yet."
Selene didn't respond right away. She exhaled, long and heavy, trembling as she lowered her legs back onto the sheets, her chest rising like a tide then crashing again. The nurses dropped beside the bed, exhausted, shaken, reverent, their fear folding into gratitude.
Three. She had just given birth to three.
Two girls.
One boy.
And somewhere in the halls beyond the chamber, a fourth Cedric Valerius, the eldest at just over one year, crawling and stumbling down the corridor, drawn toward the sound.
Dorian finally moved. Snapping from his daze. "Water," he barked. "Clean sheets. New clothes. For her. For the children." His voice cracked like glass under pressure.
Selene raised her hand weakly, moaning. "I'm… alright," she murmured, the words dry.
But it wasn't to him she spoke. She said it again. And again. Four times in total, not a comfort, not a statement. A chant. A half-prayer.
It brought no divine favor. Only unconsciousness.
She fell limp, breath uneven, and the nurses moved fast, checking her pulse, her eyes. Dorian lunged forward.
"Selene!" he shouted. But the nurses were already holding him back, hands up, firm.
"She's fainted. That's all," one said.
And with those words, he exhaled. Hard. Shoulders falling. He collapsed to the cold, spiral-carved marble floor, palms trembling, chest heaving. His black curls stuck to his temples, eyes locked on nothing.
And then, past the tangle of limbs and linen, the small soft footsteps of Cedric Valerius, firstborn of the bloodline, entered the room, hair like his mother's with a tang of his father's and eyes like his father's.
Dorian pushed himself off the marble floor, legs still unsteady, knees aching from the cold. The sweat on his brow hadn't dried, and his breath hadn't fully returned to normal, but he moved. He always moved when it mattered.
Cedric had wandered in, unbothered by the chaos that filled the room minutes before. He stood there wobbling on two little legs, hands outstretched like he had done something brave just by finding the noise. His curls were messier than usual, falling into those sharp garnet eyes but there was still something unmistakably his father's in the face.
Dorian stepped over scattered linens and bent down, scooping Cedric up in his right arm with ease. The boy laughed at the motion, head falling against Dorian's shoulder with a soft smack.
That's when the cries came.
Not Cedric's, the newborns.
The two girls cried first, sharp and shrill, their voices so similar it blurred together. And then, after a moment of silence in between, Cassius cried too. Slower. Deeper. Not louder, just heavier somehow.
Dorian turned his head, eyes flicking toward the cradle space the nurses had set up. His jaw tensed.
They hadn't cried until now.
That was strange.
A delay like that? With newborns? Especially in this house? In this bloodline?
He tucked Cedric against his hip and walked across the room, careful not to step over Selene's discarded sheets. She hadn't stirred. Still out cold. The nurses had draped a damp cloth over her forehead and kept whispering to each other, eyes flicking to the infants now and then, but Dorian didn't ask questions. He'd get answers when he wanted them.
He laid Cassius down gently in the nearest bassinet. Then the girls, one beside the other, still writhing and shrieking like they wanted to shatter glass. But it was Cassius's cry that echoed in Dorian's head, even though it had already stopped.
He looked down at Cedric in his arm, still quiet. Calm. Smiling.
"Look at you," Dorian muttered, voice softening. "Not a single tear."
Cedric clapped his hands once, cheeks round with laughter.
Dorian chuckled, brushing back a strand of hair from the boy's face. "Aw, you're so cute. You're just like your papa with your eyes."
Cedric giggled again and reached up, grabbing a fistful of Dorian's curls and tugging hard.
"Hey— ow," Dorian winced, laughing as he leaned into it. "Alright, alright. I get it. Tough like your mom, huh?"
Cedric didn't understand, obviously, but he smiled like he did, wide and open-mouthed, eyes glowing. He reached up again, this time gently patting Dorian's cheek with both hands, not quite a slap, but not careful either.
Dorian let out a sigh. A real one this time. One that came from deep, far beneath the bone. He looked toward Selene's sleeping form, then to the three babies across the room, now quiet again.
Then he looked back at Cedric.
"I have no idea what's coming next," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "But at least I've got you."
Cedric answered by sticking his fingers in his mouth and drooling all over Dorian's collar.
"Great," Dorian muttered, "just like me, huh?"
Cedric clapped his hands again, smiling from ear to ear.