Prologue – "The Child Who Should Not Exist"
"When dragons roar, mountains shudder. When demons whisper, nations fall. But when one is born of both… the stars themselves must watch."
—Elder High Oracle of Vel'Thuriel, Year 0 of the Draconic Eclipse
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The world had long whispered that it was impossible.
That dragons and demons, mighty though they were, could never intertwine. That the blood of fire and fury could not mingle with that of shadow and chaos. That no womb could bear such contradiction. That even the gods had forbade it.
And yet…
He was born.
Amid a sky split open by thunder and starlight, the boy came into the world not with a cry, but a breath so potent it parted the clouds. Wind bowed before it. Flame stilled in reverence. The divine beasts, hidden in their sacred realms, paused as if sensing the shift. The world had changed.
The child's heartbeat echoed with ancient power.
His tiny body, swaddled in enchanted silks, glowed faintly with the intertwined auras of his lineage. A halo of soft golden wind caressed his brow, while ribbons of violet shadow curled protectively around his form. His skin was the hue of sun-warmed earth. His hair, white as sacred ash. Two small, black-gold horns peeked from his head—newly formed, yet noble in shape.
And his eyes…
One gleamed with molten ruby, like the embers of a sleeping volcano. The other shimmered amethyst, deep and infinite, like the last light of dusk over a battlefield.
The Queen of Shadows wept as she held him.
The King of Flame knelt as he named him.
"Our son… our legacy. The peace we bled for. The answer to what the gods said could never be."
But peace is a fragile thing in a world ruled by envy, prophecy, and fear.
Far beyond the borders of the demon kingdom and the dragon realm, a presence stirred in the void between worlds. The Evil God, long sealed by divine pact and celestial war, felt the child's emergence like a blade to the chest. It did not rage. It did not scream. It simply… smiled.
And in that moment, the heavens trembled.
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The attack came in the night.
The palace of flame and the fortress of shadow—once symbols of power and eternal dominion—collapsed under divine fire and abyssal spears. Armies surged like locusts, faceless, merciless, nameless. Not warriors. Not soldiers. Cultists. Vessels of something greater. Something older.
The Dragon King and Demon Queen stood side by side.
One wreathed elemental fury, wings stretched wide like a sun eclipsed.
The other cloaked in chains of dream and curse, with a gaze that could freeze time itself.
They did not beg.
They did not plead.
They fought.
And for a moment, it seemed they would win.
But even gods cannot always defy fate.
"Take him," the Queen rasped, blood dripping from her lips as she handed the child to a being of impossible presence—a divine beast wrapped in stormcloud mane and emerald eyes.
"Raise him. Hide him. Let him grow… Let him see the world. Let him live."
The Dragon King touched the child's forehead with two fingers, and a circle of light burned there for only a second—his blessing sealed in silence.
The sky cracked open. The Evil God reached forward.
And in a blinding flash of divine mana and sealing light, the child vanished—carried far from the battlefield, wrapped in the howling wind and protective fury of beings older than the stars.
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The world was scarred that day.
The demon clans scattered. The dragons vanished into myth.
And the child became a whisper. A legend. A lie told to children who still believed in heroes.
But he lives.
In secret.
Growing.
Learning.
Waiting.
And when the time comes… when he awakens…
The world will remember why it feared the union of Demon and Dragon.
Why it trembled at the idea of one born of both flame and shadow.
And why this child—gentle, innocent, beloved—will become the storm that decides the fate of gods, beasts, and men alike.
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End of Prologue