Ravelyn: The Last Primal

November 26, 19XX

Xydia Realm

"Adira, you have to go! Leave me!"

Kaelen’s voice was a wrecked sob. He crashed into the mud, pulling Adira down with him as they scrambled for cover. He was shaking so hard his armor rattled. Adira didn't move. She couldn't. She just stared at him, her face ghostly pale, her hands locked over the heavy, terrifying curve of her stomach. A low, jagged hiss tore out of her throat as a contraction ripped through her.

She shook her head violently. "I'm not leaving you, Kaelen. Shut up. Just... shut up."

"They're coming!" Kaelen choked out, looking back at the trees.

The Hollow had been waiting for this. They didn't just want the dragons dead; they wanted them gone from history. They had used that cursed artifact to wipe out the rest of the clan in a single night of fire and screaming. Kaelen and Adira were all that was left, and they were bleeding out in the dirt.

Kaelen grabbed her waist, dragging her behind the massive roots of an old oak tree. They crouched there, panting. Adira bit her lip so hard she tasted the iron of her own blood, her eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain hit her. She couldn't scream. If she screamed, they were dead.

Kaelen looked at her, his heart breaking. He wiped a smudge of soot off her forehead with a trembling thumb. He gripped his sword and started to stand. "I'm going to draw them away. As soon as I move, you crawl for the ridge. I’ll come find you."

Adira grabbed his tunic, her fingers like claws. "Are you deaf? I said no! I'd rather die right here with you than watch you get slaughtered from a distance." Her blue eyes searched his, frantic and wet with tears. "If the dragon clan falls tonight, we fall together. I’m not leaving here without you."

Kaelen ran a frustrated hand through his hair, a growl vibrating in his chest. "You don't understand, the baby—"

"I understand those fanatics want us dead!" she sobbed, her voice a harsh whisper. "I also understand there's no world for me if you're not in it. I'm not leaving, Kaelen. I can't."

A twig snapped. A cold voice drifted through the fog. "Over here! I found the filth!"

"Damn it!" Kaelen barked.

With a sickening sound of skin tearing and bone shifting, his golden wings forced their way out from his back. He didn't wait for her permission. He lunged forward, scooped Adira into his arms, and hauled them into the air.

Just as they cleared the ground, a blast of black, oily magic hit the tree they’d been hiding behind, melting the wood into sludge.

Kaelen groaned with the effort, one arm locked around Adira while his other hand gripped his sword. He looked down at the men in the clearing and roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. He swung the blade, sending a blinding arc of golden energy crashing down. The blast cut through the first line of the cultists like they were made of paper, throwing bodies into the trees.

Adira let out a strangled cry, her body jerking in his arms. She clutched her stomach, her face contorting. "Kaelen... she's coming. She's coming right now!"

Kaelen looked down at her, his eyes wide with terror. "Not now, Adira. Please, just hold on—"

He never finished the sentence. A sharp pain exploded in his thighs. He looked down to see a heavy iron bolts buried deep in his muscles. His wing flapped uselessly, as they began to fall.

"Kaelen!" Adira screamed, her hands reaching for him as the ground rushed up to meet them.

Kaelen knew they weren't going to make it. In those last few seconds, the wind screaming in his ears seemed to go quiet.

He pulled Adira in as tight as he could. He shifted his weight, making sure his own body was the only thing that would hit the dirt, shielding her and the baby from the impact.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. His voice was thick, like he was choking on his own heart.

Adira’s face crumpled. She saw the look in his eyes. It was the look of a man who had already made up his mind. She grabbed the front of his shirt, her fingers shaking. "No," she sobbed, shaking her head so hard her hair whipped across her face. "Kaelen, no! Don’t you dare do this!"

He didn’t listen. He couldn't.

Kaelen squeezed his eyes shut. His veins began to glow beneath his skin, turning from a dull blue to a violent, molten gold. He wasn't just casting a spell; he was using his blood as fuel. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers clawing at the empty air as if trying to grip a fabric only he could see.

"Vah-shaka ni Draken... Sol-Aethel... GORA!"

The words weren't spoken; they were wrenched from his lungs, vibrating with a power that made the oxygen in the air catch fire.

As he shouted the final word, his skin literally cracked at the knuckles, and threads of pure gold light shot from his fingertips. They didn't just glow, they bit into the sky. He pulled his hand back with a guttural groan of agony, and the air ripped open.

The rift didn't look like a doorway. It was a jagged, bleeding wound in reality, swirling with embers and the smell of ancient smoke. It glowed like a fresh bruise against the dark clouds of Vaelor.

"I love you," he choked out.

He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. Hard, desperate, and messy. Before she could even get his name out, he gathered every bit of strength he had left, the gold light now blinding as it consumed his arms, and shoved her into the rift.

"KAELEN!"

Everything hurt. He couldn't feel his legs, and his wing was twisted at an angle that made him want to vomit. But as he lay there, listening to the boots of The Hollow getting closer, he let out a shaky, blood-flecked breath.

She was out. She was safe. That was all that mattered.

Meanwhile in the human realm.

The storm hammered against the quiet neighborhood, the wind rattling windows as if it wanted to tear them from their frames.

In the middle of the storm, heavy pounding hit the front door of a small two–storey brick house.

Martha jumped, nearly spilling the cup of tea she had just poured. “Who in God’s name is knocking at this hour?”

James set down the newspaper he wasn’t even pretending to read. “Stay here.” He grabbed the baseball bat from the umbrella stand and edged toward the door, listening. The pounding came again, desperate this time.

He cracked the door open and froze.

Standing in the rain was a woman, soaked to the bone, her face pale and streaked with tears. But what froze James wasn’t her potruding stomach. It was the wings. Two vast black dragon wings sagged heavily from her back. Blood ran down her legs, mixing with the rain.

“What the hell…” James staggered back, nearly dropping the bat.

The woman’s eyes glowed faintly in the porch light. Her voice was hoarse, urgent. “James. Martha. Please… help me.”

Martha, who had already stepped into the hallway, clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. James, is that—? No… no, it can’t be…”

Adira took a faltering step forward, clutching her swollen stomach. “It’s me. I promise... I mean no harm. Please. My child... she’s coming.”

James tightened his grip on the bat, his instincts screaming to protect his wife, but the sound of her voice… something about it made his chest tighten. He looked at Martha, who was staring, wide-eyed, but not moving away.

“Adira?” Martha whispered. Her voice shook, but recognition slipped through. “James,” she said firmly. “Help me get her inside.”

“Are you out of your mind? Look at her... she’s not even...”

“She’s my friend and she’s bleeding, James! She’s carrying a child. Are you going to let her die on our porch?”

The storm howled louder as if urging them. James cursed under his breath, dropped the bat, and bent down. Together, he and Martha pulled Adira into the house.

The hours that followed were long and brutal. Adira’s cries filled the small home, mixing with the thunder outside. Martha stayed at her side, wiping sweat from her forehead, whispering encouragements while James paced anxiously in the kitchen, unable to watch yet unable to leave.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a sharp, strong cry split the silence. The storm seemed to ease for just a moment, as though even the heavens paused to listen.

“It’s a girl,” Martha whispered, her own tears streaming as she placed the newborn in Adira’s trembling arms.

Adira stared down at the tiny face. Bright silver strands shimmered faintly with golden and ember streaks on the baby’s head. Adira smiled through her tears, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “My Ravelyn…”

Then, Adira leaned down and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the infant's forehead. As her lips touched the skin, a brilliant, pure white light flared. A complex, circular seal etched in shimmering frost appeared on the baby’s brow for a heartbeat before sinking beneath the skin and fading into nothingness.

"What was that?" Martha gasped.

"A seal," Adira breathed. "It will hide her from those who hunt us. It will keep her powers dormant... until she is ready."

Adira began to push herself up, her legs shaking. She looked toward the door, her eyes filled with a haunting grief.

"What are you doing?" Martha cried. "You need to rest!"

"I have to go back," Adira whispered, her voice cracking. "Kaelen is still there. I won't leave him to die alone. I can't."

She turned to Martha and James, her expression shifting to one of desperate, raw begging. "Please. I know I am asking for your lives. But she is the last of us. My Ravelyn... she is the only light left from a world that burned tonight. Take care of her as your own. Love her. Protect her. If I stay, they will find her. If I go, she has a chance."

James spoke, his voice low. "And if they come for her?"

Adira pressed a sealed letter into his hand. "I have hidden her nature. When she comes of age, give her this. It will explain her blood."

She leaned in, kissing Ravelyn’s forehead one last time. "Forgive me, my little light."

With a final, agonizing look of reluctance, Adira limped to the front door. She stepped into the rain, and her black-lined wings burst open, spanning the width of the porch.

"Adira, wait!" Martha shouted.

But Adira didn't look back. She couldn't. With a powerful heave, she launched into the storm, her silhouette vanishing into the black clouds as she flew toward the fading echoes of the rift.

The baby’s cries softened. James stared at the envelope, then at his wife. In the quiet of the house, the name seemed to echo in the air, a secret kept by the storm.

Ravelyn.