Chapter Text
Violet
Rain lashed against the windows of the chambers in Aretia, running in heavy streaks down the thick, crystalline panes. Beyond them stretched the night—pitch-black and impenetrable, as if the moonlight itself was afraid to touch the earth. It was the perfect weather to shut oneself away within four walls. Unfortunately, Violet Sorrengail had a reading before her that offered no comfort.
She sat on the edge of the massive, carved bed—their bed, though she had slept in it alone for weeks. In her hands, she clutched a small scrap of parchment. The paper was already crumpled from her nervous squeezing, the ink smudged in several places by her damp palms. For the sixth time, she read the healer's words, searching for a mistake, an ambiguity, some miraculous explanation that would prove this was all a misunderstanding.
She found none.
“The test results confirm that you are pregnant. The term is estimated at approximately eight weeks. Given your medical history and past injuries, I strictly advise limiting physical exertion and reporting immediately for further consultation.”
Eight weeks. She counted back in her mind. Eight weeks ago… that was right after the battle. Right after Xaden made the choice that changed everything. Right after he stood over her, his face marred by those telltale red veins, telling her there was no other way. Right after they married in a rush, by torchlight, with Tairn and Sgaeyl as their witnesses, because they knew time was running out.
Eight weeks ago.
It occurred to her that she should feel joy. She should smile, rest a hand on her stomach, and dream of tiny fingers and baby laughter. Instead, she felt as though someone had poured molten glass straight into her veins. Her mind—trained at the Basgiath War College to analyze threats, anticipate enemy movements, and plan tactics ten steps ahead—snapped into a state of full, red-alert readiness.
Risks. Danger. Contraindications. Her fragile joints, her loose ligaments, a skeleton that broke at the slightest fall. Her mother, Lilith Sorrengail, had carried three children, but she had been driven by wrath and ambition. Violet possessed neither her mother's wrath nor her iron constitution. The very body that could barely withstand the rigors of training was suddenly supposed to become an incubator for a new life. Was that even possible? Was it responsible? Or was it a death sentence—bringing someone into the world who would inherit her weakness, in a world that was still actively burning?
And then came another thought, one far more terrifying.
The father of this child is venin.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back the tears. But they spilled over anyway. Silent, hot, and unbidden.
Xaden was gone. Not of his own free will—she knew it had been a sacrifice. He had chosen her life over his own humanity, just as he always did. But that didn't change the fact that she was left alone. Now, as a new heart began to beat inside her, she had no idea where he even was. Did he still remember her face? Had the darkness that entered him already managed to drown out everything good inside him? Did he even know that something… more existed?
She sighed deeply and stared up at the ceiling. Her mind, incapable of shutting down, began to spin further scenarios. This time, however, they didn't concern her body or Xaden.
They concerned the child.
What would it be?
She didn't mean whether it would be a boy or a girl, or whether it would inherit her brittle bones or Xaden’s strength. It was something much deeper—the magic that flowed through their veins. The bonds that defined them.
Violet began to weigh the possibilities, organizing them in her head like a battle strategy.
First: the inheritance of magic. Violet was an incredibly powerful rider, though her power had manifested late and wasn't always stable. Xaden, on the other hand, was one of the most powerful riders of his generation, and his bond with Sgaeyl was legendary. Their child could inherit that power—or surpass them both. Magic often worked in unpredictable ways, blending parental traits into entirely new, unprecedented forms. What if this child had access to a power no one had ever seen before? What if they could wield lightning like Violet, but with Xaden's pinpoint precision?
Second: the dragon bond. Violet was bound to Tairn—one of the oldest and most powerful dragons in Navarre. Xaden was bound to Sgaeyl. Their child might be the first case in history where the offspring of two riders is born with an already formed, albeit dormant, connection to dragons. Could the magical bond of the parents carry over to the child? Did Tairn and Sgaeyl already sense its presence, and would they protect it somehow before it was even born?
Third: venin. This was the darkest nightmare. Xaden was venin—he had channeled magic from the earth to save Violet. Did that mean the child could be born with darkness in its blood? Would that darkness lie dormant, waiting for the right moment to awaken? Or—and this was almost more terrifying—would the child pose a threat to the venin themselves? It could be the ultimate key to defeating or destroying them.
Violet shuddered at the thought.
Fourth: political consequences. She was a leader of Aretia. Her child was the heir to two of the most powerful houses—Sorrengail and Riorson. Even if no one outside her inner circle of friends knew about the pregnancy, the truth would come out sooner or later. What then? Would the nobility view this child as a blessing? Or a threat? How many enemies would want to exploit or destroy it before it even learned to walk? How many allies would want to shield it, seeing it as a symbol of hope for a war-torn kingdom?
And then came the most unsettling thought of all.
Fifth: prophecy. Violet had never believed in prophecies. She was a woman of science, strategy, and hard facts. But in a world where dragons spoke, magic was tangible, and the line between life and death was thinner than a dagger's edge, it was hard to ignore the signs. Tairn had mentioned more than once that her arrival at Basgiath was more than a mere coincidence. And now this child… was it also part of some grander design? Had its birth been foretold by the elders of the den, who saw into the future?
You are too quiet, Tairn's voice echoed in her mind, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. His deep rumble vibrated through her skull with a note of distinct concern. What are you weighing? Battle plans? Tactics? Or something worse?
Everything at once, she answered through the bond, letting the heavy weight of her thoughts bleed toward her dragon. I'm trying to understand what this child will be. Who it will be.
It will be a part of you. A part of Xaden. A part of us. That is enough.
But what if it isn't enough? she thought, the first cracks appearing in her mental voice. What if the world wants to turn them into a weapon? What if they become a target before they even learn to breathe?
Tairn went quiet for a long moment. When his presence stirred in her mind again, she detected something she rarely ever felt from the massive dragon—uncertainty.
I do not have the answers to those questions. My wisdom spans thousands of years, but it does not encompass a situation where a rider becomes venin and their offspring is the heir to two worlds. This is terra incognita, Violet.
Then what am I supposed to do?
What you always do. Survive. Fight. And trust those who love you. The rest will come with time.
Violet sighed inwardly. She knew Tairn was right. She couldn't predict everything. She couldn't plan every single step. But it went so deeply against her analytical nature that it felt like a physical ache.
The door to her chambers opened with a soft creak.
Violet bolted upright, her hand instinctively darting to the dagger hidden beneath her pillow. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.
Bodhi stood in the threshold—Xaden's cousin, with a face so strikingly similar to his that Violet's breath hitched for a second. His dark hair was windswept, and his eyes held that same familiar spark. Behind him, she spotted Garrick—tall, with the unyielding posture of a warrior who never went anywhere without his sword.
"Easy, it's just us," Bodhi said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I came to check if you were alright. I haven't seen you since this morning, and Garrick said you didn't come down for dinner."
Violet lowered the dagger, but she didn't sheer it. Her fingers remained tightly wrapped around the hilt.
"I'm tired," she replied shortly. "I just wanted to get some sleep."
Bodhi narrowed his eyes. He was far too sharp to be fooled by such a flimsy excuse. Beside him, Garrick leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze was just as perceptive.
"Violet, something's wrong," Bodhi said, walking into the room without asking for permission. "Talk to us."
She didn't answer. She just looked down at the parchment still clutched in her hands.
Bodhi stepped closer. He noticed the crumpled paper, her pale cheeks, the tear tracks. Slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand.
"May I?"
After a moment's hesitation, she handed him the note. Her hand shook slightly.
He read it. Several times, just as she had. His face hardened. Garrick stepped forward, looking over his cousin's shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, but a second later, his usual smirk returned to his face.
"Well, look at that," he muttered, clearing his throat. "Xaden really doesn't waste any time, does he? Even when he's venin."
"Garrick!" Bodhi snapped, glaring at him. "This is not the time for jokes!"
"And when is it?" Garrick shrugged, though a rare tenderness softened his eyes. "Violet, honey, you look terrible. What's going through that head of yours?"
The silence that followed was as thick as the fog rolling over the fens. Violet raised her eyes to look at her friends. She knew she had to tell them. She couldn't carry this alone anymore.
"I'm thinking about what this child will be," she whispered. "About who they might become. And whether I should even bring them into this world."
Silence blanketed the room. Even Garrick lost his playful expression.
"Violet…" Bodhi began.
"No, listen to me," she interrupted, standing up and starting to pace the room. "Xaden is venin. He became one of them to save me. This child carries his blood. His magic. What if they're born with the darkness? What if they become a threat to everyone I love? What if I have to protect the world from them, and them from the world?"
Bodhi stepped into her path, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Listen to me," he said firmly. "Xaden might be venin, but that doesn't change who he was. Who he is. He fought that darkness every single day. And he won. This child isn't condemned to the dark. They will have you. They will have us. They will have Tairn and Sgaeyl. That is enough."
"And if it isn't?" she whispered.
"Then we'll figure something else out," Bodhi replied. "We always do."
Garrick let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the chair by the window.
"You want to know what the worst part of this is?" he asked, staring out at the rain against the glass. "Xaden doesn't know. Wherever he is right now, fighting himself, fighting the darkness, enduring every day away from you… he doesn't know he has a reason to come back. That he has something left to fight for."
Violet closed her eyes. Every word out of Garrick's mouth felt like a direct blow to her chest.
"Sgaeyl knows," she said softly. "She senses the child. She told Tairn that something shifted. That a new spark appeared within Xaden. She doesn't know what it is, but she can feel that he's different."
"Maybe that's it," Bodhi said. "Maybe this child is the only thing that can save him."
Before Violet could respond, the door burst open with a loud thud. Rhiannon hurried inside, breathless, her hair wild, eyes flashing with intensity.
"Tell me it's not true!" she cried before anyone could stop her. "I ran into the healer in the corridor. She looked like she'd seen a ghost. I forced the truth out of her. Violet, are you..."
She trailed off, looking at her friend. Her initial burst of frantic energy evaporated, replaced by a complex wave of emotion—fear, care, disbelief.
"Is it true?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Violet nodded.
Rhiannon took a step forward, then another. Suddenly, she threw her arms around Violet, hugging her so tightly that Violet momentarily lost her breath.
"You foolish, brave, unbelievable woman," Rhiannon whispered, her voice thick with tears. "How did you manage this? How can you even be pregnant in the middle of this absolute hell?"
"I don't know," Violet replied, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I should be happy or cry. My body… Rhiannon, you know what my body is like. What if I can't carry to term? What if..."
"Don't finish that sentence," Rhiannon interrupted, pulling back to hold her at arm's length. "Don't you dare finish it. If there is anyone who can prove that fragility isn't weakness, it's you. Remember Basgiath? Remember how everyone thought you wouldn't survive the first week? And you survived. You lived. You conquered it. And you will conquer this, too."
"But this isn't Basgiath," Violet whispered. "This isn't a battle I can win with a dagger and quick wits. This is… this is something I have absolutely no control over."
"I know," Rhiannon said, taking her hands. "But you don't have to control everything, Violet. Sometimes you just have to… be. And let everyone else help you."
Bodhi nodded in agreement.
"Rhiannon is right. You don't have to carry this weight alone. We are here. All of us. Aretia is yours, but that doesn't mean you have to rule it by yourself. And you don't have to go through this by yourself."
Violet looked at her three friends. Bodhi, Garrick, Rhiannon—the family she had chosen. The people who stood by her side while the world was tearing itself apart.
"What would I ever do without you?" she whispered.
"Probably go crazy," Garrick offered with a grin. "Or kill someone. Or both at the same time."
"Garrick!" Rhiannon threw him an exasperated look.
"What? I'm telling the truth. Violet without us is like a dragon without fire—impressive to look at, but slightly useless."
Violet let out a startled laugh—the first real, genuine laugh she had uttered in days.
"You guys are insufferable."
"I know," Garrick said with a broad smile. "That's why you like me."
Violet smiled back. For the first time since receiving the news, she felt the crushing weight on her chest begin to ease.
"Alright," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'll stay here. With you. I won't run away."
Bodhi nodded with approval.
"That's a wise choice."
"But don't tell me that everything is going to be fine," she added quickly, raising a hand before anyone could object. "I don't know if it will be fine. I don't know if I can do this. I don't know what tomorrow brings. But I know I don't want to make this choice alone. And I don't want to make it out of fear."
Rhiannon smiled through her tears.
"I think those are the most mature words I've ever heard come out of your mouth."
"Let's not get carried away," Garrick muttered. "You haven't heard her when she says she wants to murder the General."
"Garrick!" Bodhi scolded him again.
"What? Just stating facts."
Violet laughed again, a pure sound.
"Insufferable," she repeated.
"We know," Garrick and Rhiannon chime in unison.
Bodhi shook his head, though a spark of amusement lit his eyes.
"Come on," he said, extending a hand to Violet. "Get something to eat. Get some sleep. Tomorrow brings a new day and new problems."
Violet took his hand and stood up. She lingered for a moment, feeling her friends' eyes on her. Then she looked out the window, at the moon that had finally broken through the cloud cover.
Xaden, she thought. Wherever you are... I hope you're still fighting. I hope you're still you.
She didn't know what she would do yet. She didn't know whether she would go searching for him or wait. She didn't know if she could save him, or if he would have to save himself. But she knew one thing—whatever she decided, she wouldn't do it alone.
"Hey," Garrick said, breaking the silence.
"What?" she asked quietly.
"I know," he said, his tone carrying a rare note of absolute gravity. "Because if it's not fine, I will personally track Xaden down, drag him back to the light, and make him fix this whole mess. And if he won't, I'll kill him myself and take over as godfather."
Rhiannon stared at him, bewildered.
"Garrick, that was... incredibly weird."
"But sincere," he countered with a smirk.
Violet shook her head, a warmth blooming in her gaze.
"You are all idiots," she whispered.
"The biggest idiots in the kingdom," Garrick confirmed. "But we're yours."
The rain outside finally began to taper off. A beam of moonlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating the chamber in a silver glow.
Violet kept her hand resting gently on her stomach. The warmth she had felt earlier hadn't faded. It was right there, beneath her fingers, quiet and stubborn. Like a spark that refused to die.
This child isn't a curse, she realized. It's not a weapon. It's not a threat. It's life. My life. Xaden's. Ours.
And in a world consumed by flames, a new beginning was the most precious gift she could possibly receive. She would stop running. She would stop pretending this wasn't happening. Whatever came next, she would face it with her eyes wide open, surrounded by the people who loved her.
That is enough, Tairn's voice spoke in her mind, sensing the shift in her resolve. It is far more than you had a few hours ago.
And what do you think about it? she asked him silently, leaning into his massive, stabilizing presence.
I think you are stronger than you realize. And regardless of what you choose—I will be by your side. Just as I have always been.
Violet closed her eyes. Something she couldn't quite name bloomed in her chest—a fragile mix of fear, hope, and a tentative, quiet joy.
Opening them, she looked back at her friends.
"Let's go get some food," she said, heading toward the door. "I'm starving."
Rhiannon beamed at her.
"That is the best thing I've heard all day."
"And just remember," Garrick added, falling into step behind them. "If the kid inherits your sense of humor, we're looking at the most terrifying venin in history."
"Garrick!" Bodhi and Rhiannon yelled in unison.
Violet laughed. A real, breathless laugh.
And in that moment, she felt a portion of the crushing weight lift from her shoulders. If only for this brief moment with her friends, she felt that maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be alright.
Or at least, it wouldn't be as bad as she feared.
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