The air had been tense since we returned.
Master hadn't spoken much, only drawn more protective wards across the walls of the cottage. She sealed every door, every window, every mirror. She even closed the attic with spells written in ancient tongue.
The baby lay swaddled in soft linen, sleeping peacefully by the hearth. You'd never guess he'd fallen from the sky wrapped in flame.
But he hadn't cried. Not once. Not since I found him.
And that was… strange.
No baby should be this silent.
"Watch him," Master told me sharply that morning, before leaving to gather herbs from the cursed cliffs. "Don't leave him. Don't speak his name aloud. And if anything happens, don't use magic unless absolutely necessary. Do you understand, Irene?"
I nodded. "Yes, Master."
Her green eyes pierced mine. "I mean it."
Then she vanished in a shimmer of wind and leaves.
The door sealed behind her with a sharp click.
For a while, things were quiet.
The baby slept like starlight. Peaceful. Innocent. Beautiful.
I watched him from across the room while pretending to read. But my eyes kept drifting back to him. Every movement he made fascinated me—how he tilted his head in his sleep, how his small fingers twitched like he was dreaming of something far away.
I leaned closer, curious. Something in me was drawn to him. Like we were tied by threads I couldn't see.
"You're not normal, are you?" I whispered.
He stirred.
My heart skipped. "Sorry—go back to sleep."
I turned to pour water into the kettle.
But that's when it happened.
The room went still.
Not quiet—still. The kind of stillness that pressed against your ears and made your skin itch.
I spun around—
The baby was awake.
Sitting up.
Floating.
My mouth fell open.
He hovered above the blanket, surrounded by glowing black wisps of fire, his eyes wide open and shimmering gold.
They didn't swirl anymore. They glowed, bright and pulsing. His cloth hovered around him like he was
wrapped in liquid magic.
Books flew from the shelves. Candles flickered violently before snuffing out. The air turned electric, heavy with pressure.
Then—everything exploded.
Not fire. Light.
A massive wave of golden-black energy erupted from his body in a silent blast, flinging furniture across the room and knocking me backward into the wall.
I gasped, winded, my ears ringing.
The baby drifted down slowly, as if nothing had happened. He blinked once, then started… giggling.
Giggling.
Like he hadn't just shaken the entire magical forest.
I scrambled to my feet. "No no no no—what did you just do?!"
He only smiled.
But I didn't have time to panic.
Because the wards on the windows were cracking.
And the protective sigils on the doors were glowing red—a warning.
I froze.
Someone felt that.
Somewhere beyond the woods, the ripple of his power had reached eyes we didn't want on us. I could feel them now—watching. Stirring. Whispering.
The forest groaned.
The air around us warped with energy.
Outside, the wind howled unnaturally, and a long distant horn echoed—something had awakened. Something very old. And very dangerous.
I grabbed the baby and held him close, heart hammering.
He purred contentedly, laying his head against my shoulder like nothing was wrong.
But everything was wrong.
He had revealed himself.
And now, they knew.
Master returned before sundown.
She burst into the cottage, eyes scanning every corner with terrifying speed. Her hair was wind-tossed, her robe torn at the edge. She could feel it before I said anything.
"You used magic," she hissed.
"I didn't!" I cried. "He—he did something! I don't know what it was, it just exploded out of him!"
She crossed the room in two strides and placed her hand over the child's head, muttering incantations under her breath. Her brow furrowed deeply. Her face turned pale.
"This is no sleeping spell," she muttered. "He released pure ancestral flame—uncontrolled, untamed, undying."
She turned to me slowly.
"Irene… the vampire king will know he's alive now."
My blood turned to ice.
"No one's seen him," I said desperately. "Right? They don't know where we are."
She stared out the window.
The sky was darker than it should have been.
In the distance, I could see movement in the trees. Shapes. Quiet shadows slipping between trunks, getting closer.
"No," she whispered. "But they're looking."