"The other side is a corrupted ocean, Cecilia. Your baby might be a dragon’s baby, but it’s still a baby. It’s inside an egg that absorbs everything through its breaking and continuously nding shell and mbranes. Once you absorb the corruption, it will absorb it too."
Lazuardi said calmly, delivering a prognosis he didn’t want to deliver but knew he must. There was no lie in his words. No exaggeration. Just the immutable facts of biology and corruption and the tiny, fragile life growing inside her.
"I know you might have a solution to protect yourself and the baby. But the best solution is still not to go." His eyes t hers, steady and serious. "You are no longer just responsible for yourself. You are responsible for your child now."
Cecilia didn’t flinch or look away. Her eyes, still sharp, swept across the gathered dragons, Baswara, Jenggala, Serayu, Lazuardi—
"But are there any of you dragons who have done this before?" she asked. "Have you dove into a corrupted ocean to close a rift before?"
"Even if we hadn’t, I am the Sea Dragon, Goddess," Baswara said. "Let’s agree that I am the best for the job."
"Only you are the best for the job. Lord Jenggala’s affinities are earth, water, and wind, but he is not as specialized as you. He is an inland nature dragon. Lady Serayu’s affinity is wind, and she is very strong, but not for the ocean." Cecilia said, matter-of-fact.
Her eyes landed on Lazuardi last. "And Lord Lazuardi’s specialty is temperature magic and healing."
Lazuardi narrowed his eyes. This woman... she had apparently deduced his abilities from observation alone. Not elental. Temperature. And she was right. He would be mostly useless beyond his healing.
"I can use telekinesis and bring along an oxygen tank. Making a bubble of air around is not difficult," Cecilia said.
"Even if you co, we will still go. You know that, right, Goddess?" Jenggala asked.
"And since you are going anyway, bring along," Cecilia said. "The longer we wait, the longer Oathran is alone."
"He is strong," Serayu’s voice was quiet but firm. "Stronger than all of us combined, under certain conditions. Like when he is fighting alone."
"Is that why you let him fight alone all this ti?" Cecilia asked, her eyes cold and without rcy.
"It’s because we can’t fight his battle, Goddess." Baswara gently said, honest yet sharp. He had... made hard choices and learned to live with them. "Because we will die if we fight his battle."
Cecilia fell silent.
So—
Even without the Key. Even without the divine chanism embedded in his bloodline that demanded his sacrifice and the burden of sealing the gates and giving his life for the world...
In this universe... he was still—
...alone?
Still fighting battles that no one else could fight, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders while the people who loved him could do nothing but watch?
Arkai touched her shoulder from behind. He gently pulled her back into his arms, her body fitting against his chest like she had always belonged there.
"Do you really want to go?" Eastiel asked softly as he reached out and stroked her face, his callused fingers brushing against her cheek.
"I must go," Cecilia whispered, but there was no hesitation in it. No doubt.
Arkai leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering against her hair. "This is supposed to be a secret. But Oathran is actually... he is actually the strongest man in this world, okay?"
Eastiel nodded, his golden eyes warm and sad and proud all at once. "Yeah. He is... umm, what you call the Dragon Lord. Like in a children’s storybook."
Cecilia had figured it out already. She had seen how the people closest to him reacted. They were worried, but resigned. Frightened, but knowing they could do nothing to help.
The strongest man in the world. The one person no one could save, even if they wanted to.
"Sotis we are scared that if we go to help... we will just be his burden." Arkai said, voice rough. "I hate to say it, but we will never be able to help him like that. All we can do is protect the people here... while he fights."
"But..." Eastiel grasped her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, his golden eyes searching her face desperately. "After seeing you today... maybe... maybe you are the only one who..."
"I THOUGHT WE ARE HERE TO STOP HER!" Lazuardi yelled, furious. They asked him for dical advice and it was being roundly ignored? He pointed at Arkai and Eastiel with an accusing claw. "STOP HER! SHE IS PREGNAN—"
Serayu raised her hand, but it cut through Lazuardi’s tirade. She looked at Cecilia, her eyes tinged with sorrow. She had fought beside Oathran for centuries and understood the weight of what Baswara had said better than most. She nodded.
"Oh my God," Lazuardi’s voice dropped to a groan of disbelief. He stared at Serayu. Then even at Baswara, whose face was twisted in a complicated expression of an elder who knew he should argue but couldn’t quite bring himself to do so. "Did you all just go soft on her?"
Jenggala looked at him and shook his head. He grasped his shoulder and let him sigh.
"I will bring him back. Please protect everyone else while we go to him," Cecilia said.
"We have more Polar Bears coming, and we are calling Arctic Wolves here too. Those wolves are a pain in the ass, but they will help." Arkai said, voice rough and practical. He was already shifting into operational mode because the alternative was thinking too hard about what was about to happen.
Eastiel leaned down and kissed her. Hard. There was nothing gentle about it, his lips crashed against hers desperately, trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into a single mont of contact.
The dragons, caught off guard by this sudden display of affection, did the only thing they could do. They looked away. The dragons had absolutely no idea what was happening, after all.
They had seen Oathran with Arkai and Eastiel before, but this woman was a variable they had not accounted for. What even was these four’s relationship... let’s ask later. Or not.
"I am sorry," Eastiel whispered against her lips, his forehead pressing against hers, his golden eyes squeezed shut. "It’s all my fault. Everything. Shouldn’t have calle... mmmfuck..."
Cecilia finally understood the guilt the three n who loved her carried. They felt that they had sohow caused this, Eastiel and Arkai because he had called Oathran for help, Oathran because he had brought her here in the first place.
They had been quietly, privately spiraling, each of them blaming himself for the chain of events that had led to their pregnant girlfriend standing on a broken dam, preparing to dive into a corrupted ocean.
But if she hadn’t co—
Everything would have collapsed.
Eastiel pulled away, his hand flying to his head unconsciously, frustrated. And then Arkai leaned in, his kiss gentler, a counterpoint to Eastiel’s desperation.
"Go. The oxygen mask is ready." Arkai said steadily. "You still have potions on you, right?"
Cecilia nodded. She had enough mana stones. She could roll for the banners if she needed more.
An hour should be enough.
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