The Calm Before Battle
The fire crackled softly in the hearth of Isla and Draven’s quarters, casting warm light across the stone walls. Isla sat on a cushioned bench, her newborn twins cradled in her arms. Their soft murmurs brought a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos that loomed just beyond the gates. Draven stood nearby, his tall frame silhouetted by the firelight, his amber eyes soft as they lingered on his family.
“You never imagined this, did you?” Isla said, her voice low and tinged with emotion. She glanced down at the twins, their delicate features a reminder of what they were fighting for. “After everything we’ve been through… to end up here.”
Draven stepped closer, sitting beside her and carefully brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. “It’s more than I could have dreamed,” he admitted. His gaze shifted to the twins, his lips curling into a rare, tender smile. “They’re perfect.”
Isla nodded, though her heart weighed heavy. “They deserve so much more than this life of war.”
Draven’s hand found hers, his grip firm and reassuring. “They’ll have it, Isla. Once this is over, we’ll make sure they grow up in a world free of Malrik’s shadow.”
A moment of silence passed before Isla spoke again, her voice hesitant. “We haven’t even named them yet.”
Draven tilted his head, considering her words. “Maybe it’s better to wait,” he said gently. “A naming ceremony should be a celebration. Let’s give them a world worth celebrating first.”
Isla looked at him, her silver eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Do you really think we’ll make it through this?”
Draven leaned closer, his forehead pressing lightly against hers. “We’ve made it this far, Isla. No matter what comes, we’ll face it together.”
For the first time in days, Isla allowed herself a small smile, their shared strength giving her a glimmer of hope.
The night was eerily quiet as Isla lay in bed, her twins nestled close beside her. Their soft, rhythmic breathing should have lulled her into sleep, but her mind refused to rest. She reached out to brush her fingers through their tufts of hair, finding solace in their warmth.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and sleep claimed her. But it wasn’t the peace she had hoped for.
In her dreams, the world around her was cold and gray, the air thick with foreboding. She stood in a shadowy chamber, her mother, Xyla, sprawled on the floor before her. Blood pooled beneath her, its stark red a horrifying contrast against the lifeless pallor of her skin.
Kaelen loomed over Xyla’s body, his broad frame drenched in shadow. His hands were slick with blood, dripping onto the floor. His golden eyes, usually warm and steady, glinted with a chilling detachment.
“For the future,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of remorse.
