As Ignarion looked to Seraphyx for a response, a weary sigh escaped him before Seraphyx could even speak.
"Forget it," he muttered, voice low and laced with disappointment. "It's not my duty to ensure you carry out yours."
With that, he stepped away from the royal family and the gathered stretchers. With a flick of his hand, the air split apart—ripping into a swirling rift. The sharp tear in reality left King Orion and Queen Minerva frozen, eyes wide in disbelief.
"I'm going to meet Yandelf now," Ignarion said, standing at the threshold of the shimmering rift. "But you know… if you don't fulfill your duties soon, Mother will be furious."
He stepped through, and the rift sealed shut behind him with a hiss of air and silence.
King Orion turned to Seraphyx, his voice shaking with uncertainty.
"Mother… what is going on? We're confused. What are you hiding from us?"
But Seraphyx didn't answer. Instead, he sank slowly into his seat, lost in thought—haunted by memories that seemed too heavy to voice.
Queen Minerva gently rested her head against Seraphyx's lap, her arms wrapped around him like a child seeking comfort.
"Is it really so hard to say?" she whispered.
"Yes…" Seraphyx breathed out, the guilt weighing every word. "You are all my children… but once you know the truth, I fear you may no longer see me as the mother you once loved."
He lowered his head into his hands, almost as if holding it up was too great a burden beneath the weight of shame.
King Orion stepped forward and embraced him.
"Even if you were the Devil himself, we would still love you as our mother."
Seraphyx's eyes softened. A glimmer of relief passed over his face as he exhaled deeply.
"Then… I suppose it's time I told you everything—like a bedtime story, one a mother tells her children before sleep."
He smiled faintly.
"But before that… let's make sure Orion and his companions are properly taken care of."
"Will Orion be alright?" Queen Minerva asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
Seraphyx rose, walking over to Orion's unconscious form. His gaze lingered on the boy, reading the damage carved deep beneath the surface.
"With some rest… yes. But he's been torn in every way. His soul is scarred, his emotions raw, his body exhausted. He needs time—perhaps more than we can give."
King Orion called out to the servants, his voice steady but urgent.
"Prepare chambers for Orion and Qinyue. Make sure they're given the best care. And for Frieda… ready a preservation chamber. We must honor her."
After everything was settled, King Orion and Queen Minerva sat down beside Seraphyx, resting their heads gently on his lap. He ran his fingers through their hair in slow, comforting strokes.
"Long ago," Seraphyx began, voice quiet yet full of gravity, "the Cryo Sovereign VlastMoroz was betrayed during the War of Light. Wounded and desperate, she fled to the nearest place of cold—a secluded land of snow and stone now known as Dragonspine."
"Dragonspine, though," he continued, "was far too small to contain her vast form… and it offered no protection from the gaze of those who hunted her."
"It was there, upon those frozen peaks, that she created life from desperation. She breathed existence into her Artifact Set—her Emblem. Thus were we born."
"The Flower became the Blossom of Prana, Kaelya—imbued with VlastMoroz's power of creation, of giving life where there was none."
"The Feather became the Plume of Drakon, Seraphyx—her voice in the world, her vessel, the one who would make decisions when she could not."
"The Timepiece transformed into the Frozen Pendulum, Morven—the one who walks between frozen and flowing time, and wields the Sovereign's shielding power."
"The Goblet became the Gourd of Booze, Yandelf—who inherited the Sovereign's Viking spirit, and her ability to forge parallel time-spaces alongside this reality."
"And lastly, the Circlet was forged into the Crown of Silent Reign, Ignarion—the embodiment of her swordsmanship and raw, unrelenting strength."
"We were all born through her. To us, she was a goddess, a creator—our mother. But none of the others could gaze upon her true form. Her dragon shape was… terrifying. Devastating. Only I could look upon her directly—because I was created for it. I was her vessel."
"She used me to communicate. To feel. And eventually, she commanded Yandelf to create two separate realms: one large enough to contain her… and another for us, her children."
Seraphyx's fingers gently combed through their hair as he continued.
"In time, Mother grew lonely. Deeply lonely. No matter how often she looked through my eyes, it wasn't the same. The other Emblems weren't enough."
"So she asked Kaelya to give birth to the first of the Arians… and that was the beginning of the Kingdom of Arian. But even then, she could not meet them directly. They were fragile… mortal. Her form would shatter their minds."
"She used me to meet them. To speak. To feel joy through them."
"Ignarion became the eternal guardian of the barrier protecting Arian's realm. Yandelf left to create her own Dragon Legion, just as Mother willed it. Kaelya began weaving the leylines of the land, giving Arian its lifeblood. And Morven… he took it upon himself to watch over the barrier at all times."
Seraphyx let out a long breath, his hand stilling as he caressed their heads. King Orion and Queen Minerva remained silent, listening with unblinking attention, curled against him like children huddled beneath a storm.
After a pause, they both snuggled closer to him and sighed softly.
"…And how exactly is that supposed to change how we see you as our mother?" they said in unison, their voices tender but resolute.
Seraphyx looked away, guilt flickering across his face like a shadow.
"Did you not hear me?" he said, voice quieter now. "I am not your true mother… I was never meant to be. If I had a choice, I would've preferred being called Father... but Lady Rosen was the one inhabiting me for most of your lives. So... 'Mother' just seemed to fit better."
Queen Minerva reached up, cupping Seraphyx's face in her gentle hands.
"That doesn't matter," she said with a soft smile. "You watched over our lives. You protected us. You cared. That's what a mother does."
"You still carry that same grace... the same warmth. Whether you are a vessel or a god or a dragon in disguise—you are our mother."
Seraphyx let out a breath of relief, the tension slipping from his shoulders as a faint blush crept onto his face. He pulled both Queen Minerva and King Orion into a warm, tight embrace.
"I really do appreciate your words... your feelings. But..." he said softly, "the story isn't over yet."
His voice grew quieter, more reflective.
"After I descended this time… it was me who remained with you, from the moment we left the battlefield until we reached the private quarters. Mother slipped in and out of my body sometimes—just long enough to hold you close like she always used to… but after the barrier broke, she returned to her realm. She hasn't inhabited me since."
He paused, then began recounting everything—the truths they'd seen unfold, the secrets hidden in the shadows of the story they were now living.
When he finished, Queen Minerva tilted her head, her expression a mix of confusion and faint annoyance. A small pout formed on her lips.
"…But why did you have to keep it a secret?" she asked, frowning.
Seraphyx looked down, shame flickering in his eyes.
"Because… the children of Arian would've wanted to see their real mother. But her true form… it's terrifying. It could break even the strongest of minds. So… we decided to keep you all in the dark."
Before he could finish, King Orion cut in sharply.
"That's it? That's your reason? We wouldn't be scared. I can say that on behalf of every citizen of Arian."
"You say that…" Seraphyx said with a heavy tone, "because you don't know how she looks."
"We won't be scared," Minerva said, voice firm with conviction. "She's our mother too… isn't she?"
There was a silence. And then…
Something shifted.
Seraphyx's aura changed—drastically. The divine glow that once radiated like a cold, distant star began to soften. It grew warmer, gentler, like a lullaby in the winter wind. The energy around him pulsed—not with power, but with emotion.
Less divine… and far, far more motherly.
A deeper voice, soft but tremulous, slipped through his lips—not Seraphyx's, but hers.
"Is that true?"
The voice was delicate… wounded. Hopeful, but afraid.
"You wouldn't be scared… if I showed you my true form?"
It was Lady Rosen.
Speaking through Seraphyx at last, a frown on her face—not from anger, but from vulnerability.