Chapter 3

The Elven territory was in chaos. The half-beasts had come knocking — with swords.

By the time Raven and I arrived, the capital was barely recognizable.

The gates were sealed shut. The eastern quarter was scorched black. Half the patrol guards were wrapped in bandages; the other half sat slumped against walls with hollow eyes. People whispered as we passed — "outsider attack," "blood debt" — but nobody dared say more than that.

"What happened?" I grabbed a passing guard by the arm.

He looked at me, opened his mouth, then closed it. Turned and walked away without a word.

Camilla was already waiting on the steps of the estate.

"Sister. You're finally here. Our people have suffered a terrible blow — surely you and Raven won't just stand by and watch?"

"The half-beasts attacked without warning. Father barely held them off, but the casualties were devastating." She let out a sigh, her voice pitched with carefully measured grief. "Raven's people — the Leviathans still have their deep-water guard lines. If he could mobilize even a single unit —"

"Not a chance."

My voice wasn't loud, but everyone heard it.

The smile froze on Camilla's face. "What?"

"The half-beasts and the Elves have never had bad blood. Why would they suddenly storm the gates?" I looked at her, my tone as flat as if I were commenting on the weather. "The Leviathans don't clean up other people's messes."

Something ugly flashed across Camilla's eyes. She buried it just as quickly, let out a cold scoff, and swept back inside.

The truth came from Elder Thessyn.

"Your sister's doing. Blood sacrifices. Months of it — hunting half-beasts, draining their blood for ritual craft. She claimed it was to stabilize the pregnancy, to catalyze what she calls a 'divine heir.'"

"Your father covered for Camilla. Called it slander, provocation. Pinned the whole thing on border bandits."

"So the half-beasts came back."

"They did. More than once." Thessyn stared at the charred walls. "Your father shielded her until the entire Elven territory got dragged into the fire."

That night, we planned to leave. We wanted no part in any of this. But we couldn't go.

Father had arranged a feast. A "family gathering," he called it.

Camilla sat there with her belly on full display and launched into her performance.

"My child carries divine-tier tidal markings. Leviathan-class potential — possibly beyond."

She paused, making sure every ear in the room was tuned to her.

"Killing a few half-beasts? So what. The weak exist to make way for the strong. Their blood fueling the birth of a divine heir — they should be honored."

Nobody at the table said a word.

Then she turned to me.

"Oh, right — sister, you're expecting too, aren't you?" Her lips curled upward. "Have you had a diviner take a look? Leviathan bloodlines have been declining for years... It would be unfortunate if you ended up delivering something... deformed. That wouldn't be a good look."

In my past life, I swallowed every taunt like this. Told myself to endure. Told myself it would pass.

And then she killed me.

This time, I was done enduring.

"You seem awfully confident, Camilla. So let me ask you something."

"How long has it been since Malik spent a night in your tent? Every barmaid in the Snake Quarter knows his face better than you do. So this divine heir of yours — is it a genuine miracle, or do you just not know whose child you're carrying?"

Camilla slammed her palm on the table, ready to erupt.

But the sky cracked open first.

No warning — silver-blue veins of light split the heavens down the middle, as if someone had taken a blade to the night itself.

A second later, red fog boiled up from the far side of the city. Thick as clotted blood, surging from the ground below.

A serving girl screamed. "Lady Camilla — the baby — it's coming —"

Camilla doubled over. The red mist coiled around her ankles as her attendants scrambled in every direction.

Then it hit me too. The first wave of contractions.

Raven caught me.

His hands were shaking. I had never seen them shake before — the last heir of the Leviathan water-dragons, a man who wouldn't flinch at the abyss tide, and in that moment his hands trembled, his eyes went wide, and there was nothing in them but me.

He scooped me up and ran.

Behind us, Camilla's laughter rang out — wild, fractured, soaring above the thunder and the red fog.

"It's coming! My god is born! Every one of you will KNEEL —"

By dawn, my child had arrived.

Raven knelt at the edge of the tidal pool, soaked to the bone. One hand rested on the baby's back. The other gripped my fingers so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He hadn't let go all night.

The news from Camilla's side came in pieces.

Six births. Five died within minutes — deformed, seizing, gone before they drew a second breath. The sixth survived. But what followed was worse than silence: the living child bore no water-snake markings. Its skin shimmered with tidal patterns — Leviathan patterns — yet every line was threaded through with black rot that reeked of decay.

Malik's roar shook the tents across the Snake Quarter.

"I'm a water snake! How the hell are Leviathan markings on MY child?"

Camilla clutched the surviving infant to her chest, drenched in blood and black fluid, rocking back and forth, muttering without pause.

"Not enough. The sacrifices — not enough half-beasts. Malik! Malik, get back here —"

Father sent someone to fetch me. Wanted me to help figure things out.

I listened to the message, looked down at my sleeping child, then looked at Raven.

"Tell my father," I said, "blood rituals don't strengthen the source. They poison it. I can't fix karma."

"This is beyond anything I can do."

Raven stood.

"The Leviathans protect their own — my mate and my child. Everything else is not our concern."

I closed my eyes.

All I wanted was for my child to grow up safe. Nothing else mattered.

But fate never lets anyone stay quiet for long.