The village had quieted in the days following Ethan's miraculous healing. The tree-house bedchamber became a place of stories rather than passion. Women gathered in soft circles around him—Rowan curled against his side, Mira's head on his thigh, Elara braiding flowers into Sylva's silver hair. Seraphine sat at the foot of the bed, her staff resting across her knees, while Elowen the healer lingered nearby, her amethyst eyes watchful.
Ethan, fully restored and stronger than before, finally asked the question that had burned in him since Vaeloria's attack.
"Tell me the truth about Elysara. How did the men really fade away? And how did the Shadow Women become… what they are?"
A hush fell. Outside, the wind stirred the willow leaves like distant whispers.
Seraphine drew a slow breath. "It is time you knew the full history, Breeder. Not the gentle tales we tell children, but the ancient truth carved into the Crystal Archives."
She began.
Long ago—tens of thousands of years—Elysara was balanced. Men and women were born in equal measure. Magic flowed from the twin moons: silver Lyris for life and renewal, crimson Vael for passion and strength. Children were conceived naturally, and the population thrived.
The first Breeders were not singular. When the veil between worlds thinned, several men would arrive at once—sometimes five, sometimes ten. They were welcomed as honored guests, shared among the great houses and villages. Daughters were born strong, sons rare but cherished. Those sons grew into men who stayed, mating with the women of Elysara, keeping the balance.
But the veil thinned less and less over the millennia. Fewer men came. The last true generation of native-born sons grew old and died without enough new blood to replace them.
The women adapted. Priestesses developed rituals to sustain youth and beauty, drawing power from Lyris. They learned to quicken life using stored essence from the last Breeders—preserved in sacred crystals. Daughters continued to be born, always daughters, but the rituals grew weaker with each passing century.
Then came the turning point: the arrival of Kaelor, the Penultimate Breeder, some three thousand years ago.
Kaelor was strong, virile, beloved. He traveled the world for decades, fathering hundreds of daughters. But a faction arose—beautiful, ambitious sorceresses of House Noctis—who believed the Breeder's power could be claimed entirely. They called themselves the Circle of Eternity.
Led by a woman named Morgath, they studied forbidden texts from the crimson moon Vael—texts that spoke of absorbing a man's life force at the moment of climax to gain immortality beyond even Lyris's gift.
Morgath seduced Kaelor in secret. On the night she rode him to release, she drew a shadowed dagger and plunged it into his heart as he spilled inside her. His essence flooded her—not just seed, but soul. Morgath did not die of old age. She grew stronger, colder, her skin paling as Vael's influence took hold.
The Circle followed her example with the few remaining native men. One by one, husbands, lovers, fathers were lured into shadowed beds and slain at the height of pleasure. Their lives were consumed, granting the Circle unnatural power and eternal hunger.
The rest of Elysara rose in horror. A great war followed—light against shadow. Lyris's priestesses, led by the first High Matriarch, drove the Circle into the deep places: underground vaults, forgotten ruins, the Obsidian Mountains.
But the damage was done.
No native men remained. The veil opened only rarely after that, bringing single Breeders—lone men like you. The Shadow Women, as they became known, learned patience. They infiltrated, disguised themselves, waited for their moment. Three Breeders in the last thousand years had come… and three had died at shadow hands, their seed stolen, their lives snuffed out before they could father more than a handful.
Seraphine's voice grew quiet.
"We grew complacent. We told ourselves the Shadows were few, weakened, banished. But Morgath's bloodline endures. Vaeloria is her direct descendant—touched deepest by the crimson moon, grown giant and terrible. The Seven are her inner circle, each having tasted Breeder essence from crystal relics. They do not want daughters. They want power. And they believe that by taking you completely—seed and soul—they can finally overthrow Lyris's light and rule Elysara forever."
Rowan tightened her grip on Ethan's hand. "That's why only four carry your children so far. The world needs a thousand—ten thousand—to truly flourish again. But the Shadows will kill you long before that unless we stop them."
Elowen spoke for the first time, her voice like crystal chimes. "The balance is fragile. Lyris gives life, but Vael feeds on sacrifice. If the Shadow Women succeed, Elysara will become a place of endless night."
Ethan lay silent, absorbing the weight of it all.
He was not just a man in a world of women.
He was the last hope against an ancient corruption.
And somewhere in the dark, a seven-foot giantess with his taste on her tongue was planning her return.
Seraphine leaned forward, eyes fierce.
"We will not let history repeat. You will live, Ethan. You will father the thousand—and more. We will protect you with every breath, every ward, every blade."
The women around him nodded, faces set with determination.
Outside, the twin moons rose—silver Lyris bright and hopeful, crimson Vael a warning glow on the horizon.
The war had been quiet for centuries.
Now it stirred again.
And Ethan, the final Breeder, stood at its center.