The voice faded, leaving ripples in the void.
Illyria stood there, motionless.
Her eyes—those hollow mirrors of obedience—quivered faintly, catching the light.
For the first time, there was something behind them.
A flicker. A reflection. A spark that did not belong to her orders.
Her hand trembled, wanting to reach out.
But her body would not obey.
She was never made to choose. Only to obey.
---
Darkness surrounded them, deep and endless.
Yet even the dark seemed to bow before the man standing before her.
Kaelus—the weapon that once kept the world from tearing itself apart.
The guardian no god ever loved, no mortal ever remembered.
And yet, here he stood, looking at her like a father seeing his child for the first time.
---
"Do you know this place?" he asked softly.
His voice carried warmth, though the world itself had forgotten what warmth meant.
Illyria blinked. "No."
He smiled faintly.
"This is where I was born. The forge of balance. The abyss of beginnings."
A faint light flickered beneath his feet, webbing outward like veins of gold.
Through them, visions stirred—the fragments of a life long gone.
The clang of divine forges.
The voice of the Primordial Chaos, creating a being with no heart and no home.
The sound of endless wars and the silence that followed.
---
"I was created to keep order," Kaelus murmured.
"Balance was all I knew.
No love, no grief, no warmth. Just… existence."
He looked at her then, and his eyes softened.
"Until your mother found me."
The name hung heavy in the void.
"Serenia," he whispered.
"She taught me to feel.
And when you were born… I thought, perhaps, even a weapon could dream."
A faint shimmer appeared between them.
A memory—
A little girl pressing her hand to the glass wall of his prison, smiling at the man she'd only ever heard about.
"You came to see me," he said.
"I was chained even then. And you smiled, Illyria. You smiled at me as if I was human."
The memory cracked, dissolved into light.
Kaelus's expression grew pained.
---
"I watched everything," he said quietly.
"When the Spirit Realm burned…
When Serenia fell…
When you were taken."
His voice trembled, low and raw.
"I saw them rip the spirit core from your chest.
I saw you bleed without crying.
And when you called him father—"
He paused. His breath hitched.
"I wanted to hate Azrael. I should have.
But how could I?
He did what I could not.
He kept you alive."
The void pulsed. Light flickered through his body—
his heartbeat beginning to collapse inward.
---
"Illyria," he said gently, "close your eyes."
She obeyed, as always.
But this time, it was not obedience—it was trust.
---
The void did not end.
It simply waited.
Even after the echoes of battle were gone,
and even after the screams of the dying gods faded into the folds of silence—
time did not move.
It was as if creation itself had forgotten to breathe.
And there, at the center of that stillness,
she stood.
The girl with glass eyes and a hollow name.
The weapon made from a god's regret.
---
A faint hum rippled through the air.
It came from behind her—deep, steady, alive.
A heartbeat that did not belong to her.
When she turned, light tore through the darkness.
Her father stood there.
---
Kaelus.
The dragon who once held up the balance of worlds.
The god who never knew what warmth meant until she was born.
He looked older now.
Not in body, but in soul.
Every breath he took seemed to crack the silence open just a little more.
---
"Illyria," he said softly.
The name shivered through her—
because only he ever called her that.
To the rest of the world, she was Hollow Dagger.
A weapon.
A myth.
A curse.
But when he said her name,
it felt like being seen.
---
"I thought…" His voice broke, faint and uneven.
"I thought I'd never see you again."
He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that hurts.
"Do you remember the first time you tried to walk toward me?"
She blinked. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
He chuckled under his breath.
"You were so small then. The spirits had told you that the man in the cage was dangerous."
He knelt a little, lowering himself to her eye level.
"But you came anyway. You pressed your hand to the glass, and smiled."
A soft glow formed between them—
a fragment of that memory, flickering like a candle.
A little girl with white hair and bright eyes,
and a chained god smiling back through tears he didn't know how to shed.
---
The light trembled, then faded.
"I wanted to reach out," Kaelus whispered.
"But the chains wouldn't let me.
And now…" He exhaled.
"Now I'm free to touch you—but only once."
His hand rose slowly, hesitating midair,
as if afraid the moment would shatter if he did.
Then he touched her cheek.
The warmth burned through her skin.
It was the first warmth she'd ever felt that wasn't forged from rage or magic.
---
"Father," she whispered.
The word came out small, raw, uncertain.
Like it had been waiting her entire life to be spoken.
He froze.
For the first time, he heard her voice tremble.
"Ah," he breathed, smiling through tears. "So you do remember."
---
Light began to gather around him—soft threads of gold that wove upward, forming markings on his skin.
The same marks that once branded him as the Guardian of Balance.
"It's time," he said quietly.
"The world is breaking again. I cannot stop it this time."
Illyria shook her head, eyes wide.
"No."
Her voice cracked. "Don't leave."
He smiled faintly.
"If I don't… you'll die.
You weren't made to hold what they put inside you.
So I will give you mine."
---
The ground—if there was any—split open beneath them.
Light spilled upward like liquid dawn.
His chains appeared once more—massive, spectral, wrapping around his arms, chest, wings.
But this time, they didn't bind. They glowed.
Each link became a pulse of energy, feeding into him.
And when he spoke again, his voice was no longer human.
It was the Divine Tongue, the first sound ever spoken by the stars.
"Asha'thir vel enkaar, soluun dravai…"
O flame that birthed all dawn, take this vessel as your own.
"Ka'reloth ven thaur, mei'len sorai…"
I give my chains to silence, my name to wind.
"Serenia, Ael'nir, Illyria valen thrai…"
My love, my blood, my child—may my heart find you.
"Drav'on vel laesh, karuun eth sael."
Let the balance live through love, not obedience.
Each word echoed through her bones like thunder under her skin.
Every syllable burned through her chest,
as if carving light into her heart.
---
His form began to change.
The glow tore through his body,
and from his back unfurled wings vast enough to cradle the void.
Scales shimmered, silver and blue,
and his eyes—once gold—turned to starlight.
The Dragon of Balance had returned.
The sight was terrible and beautiful,
the kind of beauty that hurts to look at.
Illyria fell to her knees,
her chest aching so violently it felt like her ribs might break.
---
He lowered his head, enormous and radiant, until his forehead touched hers.
The world stopped breathing.
"My child," he whispered in the tongue of mortals again.
"You were born from silence, but I give you my voice."
Then, in a voice trembling with love—
"I love you, Illyria."
Her throat tightened.
She wanted to say it back, but her voice broke halfway through.
He smiled, that same gentle smile that once held up worlds.
"It's all right. You don't have to say it."
---
His chest cracked open.
Not blood. Not pain.
Light.
A sphere of pure, burning gold—his heart essence—floated free.
It beat once, twice,
and then drifted toward her.
Illyria's hands shook.
Her body didn't move.
The light entered her chest with a soundless impact.
And suddenly—
she could hear it.
His heartbeat.
Inside her.
Slow. Steady.
Home.
---
Kaelus's massive body began to crumble into dust made of light.
His wings broke into ribbons.
His scales into stars.
And yet—his face remained calm.
He reached forward one last time,
and pulled her into an embrace.
It wasn't a divine act.
It wasn't a god's farewell.
It was a father's hug—warm, trembling, real.
She buried her face in his shoulder,
the first tear falling down her cheek.
---
"Even when I'm gone," he murmured,
"you'll still carry my name.
They will call you Hollow Dagger.
Let them. That name will protect you."
He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"But beneath it… you are Illyria.
Only you, my child."
---
His arms began to fade.
The warmth slipped away like sand between her fingers.
"No…" she whispered. "Please…"
He smiled through the light swallowing him.
"Live, Illyria."
And then—
he was gone.
---
Silence returned.
The void was whole again,
but it no longer felt empty.
A dagger fell softly before her.
Its blade shimmered with dragonsteel, glowing faintly with runes of gold.
At its hilt pulsed a small rhythm—
a heartbeat that would never die.
---
Illyria stared at it for a long time.
Then she reached out, and lifted it carefully.
The blade trembled in her grasp,
as if recognizing the touch of its new wielder.
Her reflection wavered in its surface—
a girl, not a weapon.
A child, not a curse.
And in that quiet,
the faint echo of his voice lingered—
a whisper that would follow her across every world.
"You were never born to destroy.
You were born to choose."