The heavens trembled on the morning of Areia's labor. A sudden surge of energy jolted through the land, stirring the air, the earth, and the skies themselves. Flavia, in the quiet of her study, felt it before the messenger arrived. The disturbance was unmistakable, and her heart skipped a beat as a ripple of dread washed over her.
A young servant burst through the door, breathless and frantic. "Your Majesty, it is urgent. The Dragon Queen, Areia, has gone into premature labor. The child... the child is coming early, and we fear for both her and the prince."
Flavia's pulse quickened, her hand gripping the table as the words struck like a thunderclap. Premature labor. Areia—her closest friend—was in danger, and her child... the heir to the storm's throne, the future of the dragon lineage, was at risk. Flavia didn't hesitate for a second. She rushed to the door.
"Klaus," she called over her shoulder. "Prepare the dragons. We're going to the Dragon Palace."
Klaus, calm yet troubled, stepped forward from the shadows of the room, his eyes meeting hers with quiet understanding. "I'll make sure you're safe."
Together, they left swiftly, their urgency mirroring the storm that brewed above the Dragon Palace.
At the Dragon Palace
Inside the Dragon Palace, chaos had already begun to unfold. Azuele, the ever-composed healer and trusted confidante of both Flavia and Areia, stood by the queen's side, her brow furrowed in concentration. The storm outside raged, mirroring the tension in the room. Areia lay on the bed, her face pale and drenched in sweat, eyes clenched in pain as another contraction hit.
"Azuele," Areia panted, gripping the edges of the bed. "If this child doesn't come out soon, I swear I'll—"
Azuele's sharp laughter cut through the tension, her hands working quickly to adjust Areia's position. "You'll what? Blast me with your fire? I'm sure that'll help," she teased, though the smile that tugged at her lips was laced with the gravity of the situation.
Areia's gaze was pained but affectionate. "Don't joke with me now, Azuele. This is no time for humor."
Azuele's smirk softened into a look of understanding as she wiped Areia's forehead with a damp cloth. "You've been through worse, Queen. A little pain won't kill you."
But there was no denying the concern in her eyes. This was different. The labor was progressing too quickly, and they had little time. Azuele's healing magic was powerful, but even she knew that in moments like this, the course of nature couldn't be fully controlled.
Flavia burst into the room with Klaus close behind, the weight of the news pressing down on her like a physical force. Her gaze locked onto Areia, and without a second thought, she rushed to her side, her hand finding Areia's with an almost desperate need to reassure herself that her friend was still there, still strong, despite the pain.
"Areia," Flavia whispered, her voice calm but her heart racing. "You're going to be okay. Just breathe. You've got this."
Areia's lips twitched into a wry grin despite the obvious strain on her face. "You have no idea how much I want to throw a fireball at you right now. But I think my energy might be better spent elsewhere."
Flavia's thumb brushed over Areia's knuckles, a soft laugh escaping her as she spoke with warmth, "If you throw a fireball now, I'll let Azuele take over."
"Deal," Areia managed, though her voice was strained with exhaustion. "You always know how to make me laugh, Flavia."
Klaus stepped back, his eyes flicking to Azuele, who was already scanning Areia's vital signs with a level of precision that only a healer of her caliber could achieve. The urgency in the air was palpable, yet there was a strange calmness in the room, as if the bonds of friendship alone could hold the storm at bay.
"Azuele," Klaus spoke in a low, serious tone, his eyes narrowing. "How long do we have?"
Azuele's brow furrowed as she cast a healing spell over Areia. "It's happening faster than we anticipated. If we don't act quickly, we could lose them both."
Flavia's heart tightened at Azuele's words, but she didn't allow herself to show fear. She kept her focus on Areia, holding her hand, grounding her with every word of reassurance she could muster. "You've got this. You've always been strong. This child will come safely."
Areia's breath hitched as another contraction wracked her body, and she let out a strangled gasp, her grip tightening on Flavia's hand. "I don't know if I can do this... Flavia, what if—"
"Don't," Flavia interrupted, her voice firm and loving. "You're stronger than this, Areia. You were born to be the storm. This child is your legacy. Don't doubt yourself now."
The queen's fiery eyes met Flavia's with an intensity that spoke volumes. "You're right. This storm... it's in my blood."
Just as another wave of pain hit, the air outside the palace crackled with unnatural energy. The storm outside reached its peak, lightning flashing across the skies in blinding brilliance, its fury matching the turmoil within the palace. And in that moment, the child within Areia's womb seemed to echo the storm's fury, a surge of power too vast for anyone to contain.
Azuele, who had been focusing her magic to stabilize Areia, glanced at Flavia and Klaus with a solemn expression. "It's happening. The child is coming."
The room seemed to hold its breath as Areia cried out once more, her body shaking with the effort. Flavia leaned down, her forehead resting against Areia's, whispering softly, "I'm here. We're all here. You're not alone."
With a final, primal cry, Areia gave birth. The moment the child emerged, the heavens themselves seemed to tremble. A brilliant flash of lightning lit the room, brighter than the sun, as though the sky itself acknowledged the birth of a new force. The storm outside roared in response, the winds howling as though a great power had been unleashed.
Azuele, holding the newborn prince in her hands, couldn't suppress the awe in her voice. "He's here," she said, her eyes wide with reverence. "The son of Areia. The child of the storm."
Flavia's breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the small, fragile form in Azuele's arms. The prince—Rey—was perfect in his tiny, wriggling form. His skin glistened with the faintest shimmer of storm magic, his tiny fingers curled as if reaching for the storm outside.
Areia, breathless and covered in sweat, looked up at Flavia, her face pale but filled with a sense of fierce pride. "He's perfect," she whispered hoarsely, tears of relief and love filling her eyes.
Flavia gently cupped Areia's face in her hands, a soft smile spreading across her lips. "He's everything you've dreamed of. He's our future."
Klaus, who had been standing quietly at the foot of the bed, stepped forward now, his eyes softening as he looked at the tiny child in Azuele's arms. "The storm has a new heir."
Azuele smiled, her usual sharp edge replaced with a gentle warmth. "And the world will feel it, Klaus. This child... Rey... He will change everything."
Flavia, standing by Areia's side, watched the newborn prince with a sense of awe. The heavens had truly blessed them this day. The storm had given them a new legacy, a new power that would shape the future of their world.
The storm outside began to calm, its fury subsiding as Rey took his first breaths. And in that moment, as the world around them settled into a delicate peace, Flavia and Areia shared a look, the unspoken bond between them stronger than ever. They had faced the storm together, and together, they would face whatever came next.
Rey, the Prince of Storms, was born. And with him and iris, a new chapter in their story began.