The night was drenched in blood. A crimson eclipse shrouded the moon as the clock struck midnight.
Shadows danced along the walls, and in the heart of the Draeger estate, a woman's anguished cries pierced the suffocating silence.
"I'm sorry, my Lord," the midwife whispered, her face pale and crestfallen as she emerged from the chamber, blood staining her trembling hands.
"The situation is… dire. It's either the child or your wife. You must choose."
Lord Malric Draeger, known across the kingdom for his iron will and a heart rumored to be kinder than his stern face betrayed, felt the world crumble around him.
The head of the Umbren Tribe and guardian of his people's future, he stood at a terrible crossroad ; his beloved or his unborn successor.
His kingdom had long awaited a child from him. Whispers haunted his halls, poisonous tongues spreading cruel rumors that their Lord was cursed with barrenness. That the Dark Tribe's line would end with him.
Factions even began conspiring to appoint a new head, believing the house of Draeger would perish without an heir.
Yet through it all, Malric and his wife, Lady Selene Draeger, bore the storm in silence, their dignity unyielding.
Now — the moment of reckoning had arrived.
His heart, heavy as stone, made the impossible choice. He chose the future of his people over the love of his life.
"Is there truly no way to save them both?" his voice cracked, brittle against the crackling firelight.
"I'm afraid not, my Lord," the healer murmured, her eyes downcast.
Though her pregnancy had seemed blessed and sound, labor had turned nightmarish, claiming Selene's strength with each passing hour.
Malric's chest ached as he stepped inside the chamber. Selene lay bathed in sweat, her breath ragged, yet her spirit remained luminously fierce. She reached for his trembling hand.
"My love… do not grieve," she rasped, her voice fragile yet resolute. "Promise me… care for our son. Give him the world we dreamed of. He is our blessing… sent by the holy angels." A shudder wracked her fragile body, pain tightening her features.
"Protect him," she whispered, "…especially from the—"
Her words broke off in a final, strangled gasp. A single tear slid down her pallid cheek as her body fell still.
The room fell into deafening silence, broken only by the newborn's first, desperate cries.
The midwife placed the tiny, writhing child into Malric's trembling arms. Tears blurred his vision as he beheld his son — bloodstained, fragile, and precious.
"My dear son… you come into this world at the cost of your mother's life," he choked out. "Ishall guard you with my life. No man, no beast, no force shall lay a finger upon you. You are Lucien Draeger — son of Malric Draeger, future head of the Umbren Tribe. May the angels mark you, my boy."
He pressed a trembling kiss to the infant's brow before placing him in the maid's waiting arms.
The mansion was consumed by an oppressive gloom. Candlelight flickered against the walls as the sound of distant carriages announced preparations for Lady Selene's funeral come morning.
Alone in his chambers, Malric gazed at his reflection in the rain-streaked window. His face, once proud, now carried grief's cruel etching.
"Oh, my son…" he murmured to the darkness. "I cannot wait until you turn seventeen. For on that day, you shall inherit something both precious… and cursed."
From within a velvet-draped casket, he drew out a small, ancient box, wrapped in shadow-dark silk.
"Lucien… you are born for hardship, burdened with destiny and peril. And though I do not know how long I shall stand at your side… this will protect you."
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The flames dimmed, and so began the legend of Lucien Draeger — born under a blood-red eclipse, destined to either save or ruin them all.
To be continued....
Chapter 3...