2025-11-19 16:43:14The storm that had shaken the sky after the Phoenix Clan’s sudden appearance did not strike immediately. For reasons Seraphina could not understand, the clan’s forces retreated before reaching the village—as if something had stopped them, stalled them, or warned them to wait.
But the respite came at a cost.
Seraphina’s body had weakened in the days following the confrontation. The forbidden flames within her had grown unstable, pulsing with erratic bursts of power she struggled to contain. Even Rylan noticed how, at night, faint embers drifted from her skin like flickering fireflies.
“Maybe we should leave,” he urged one evening, gently cupping her face. “Find a safer place. Somewhere we can raise our child in peace.”
Seraphina hesitated. “Rylan… there is something I must tell you.”
He froze at the tremor in her voice.
“I-I feel two heartbeats,” she whispered.
Rylan’s breath caught. “Two?”
Seraphina nodded. “Twins.”
He embraced her tightly, joy swelling in his chest—but her expression remained troubled. Phoenix Clan births were rare and sacred. For an heiress to bear twins was unheard of. Unacceptable. Dangerous.
But none of that mattered to Rylan.
“We’ll protect them,” he said fiercely. “No matter what.”
Yet fate had different plans.
The Night of the Birth
The night the heavens split open with silver lightning was the night the twins chose to enter the world.
Seraphina’s scream pierced the storm as Rylan carried her into the small wooden hut that served as the village birthing house. Midwives, frightened but compassionate, gathered around her.
But as Seraphina’s Phoenix blood surged, the lanterns along the walls flickered violently, brightening with unnatural flame. Rylan felt the ground tremble beneath him.
“Her body temperature—gods, it’s rising!” one midwife shouted.
“She’s burning up!”
“No,” Rylan said, clutching Seraphina’s hand. “She’s a Phoenix—this is normal. Please… help her.”
The midwives exchanged uncertain glances. They had delivered countless children—but none from a woman whose veins glowed like molten gold.
When the first baby crowned, a violent burst of crimson light filled the room.
“Cover your eyes!” someone cried.
But it was too late.
A newborn’s cry thundered through the hut, laced with something more than sound—a shockwave of radiant fire.
The wooden beams cracked. The lanterns shattered.
And in the midwife’s trembling arms lay the first child: a tiny boy, eyes closed, but his skin glowing faintly with golden flame patterns, swirling like living embers.
A second cry followed immediately—this one colder, sharper.
The girl was born wrapped in shifting shadows and silver fire, as though heaven and night fought around her tiny form.
The midwives recoiled in horror.
“This is… this is unnatural!”
“The boy burns like the sun—yet the girl radiates darkness!”
“They shouldn’t exist—this is an omen!”
One midwife dropped her cloth and fled. Another stumbled backward, whispering prayers.
Only one remained—a stout older woman with shaking hands and a loyal heart. She placed the twins gently beside Seraphina and glared at the others.
“Children are children,” she snapped. “Omen or not.”
But even she could not hide her fear.
Rylan stood frozen, unable to breathe. His children… his twins… were beautiful—terrifying—and impossibly divine.
“Arin,” he whispered, touching the boy’s warm cheek.
“And Lyra,” Seraphina breathed, tears streaming. “My babies…”
The twins’ energies pulsed, flames and shadows twisting together in a dance of creation and destruction.
The older midwife stepped back. “Their powers… they’re unstable. If we stay here—this hut might collapse.”
No sooner had she spoken than a thunderous crack echoed through the room. A beam above them split, showering sparks.
Rylan yanked Seraphina and the babies close as the ceiling groaned.
“We need to move!” he shouted.
But as they stepped outside, the storm above the village abruptly ceased.
A strange, unnatural calm settled.
The clouds parted—revealing a massive ring of fire suspended far above, like an eye watching them.
Seraphina’s blood ran cold.
“Rylan… the Phoenix Clan. They know.”
The Curse of the Heavenfire Twins
The village gathered outside the birthing hut. Some stared with awe, others with terror.
A man whispered, “Those children… they carry heavenfire…”
“No,” another corrected. “That girl—her flames are mixed with darkness. She’s a bad omen.”
Rylan stepped in front of Seraphina, shielding the twins from sight. “Back away,” he growled.
But fear spreads quickly. People murmured, pointed, backed away as though cursed.
Then an elderly village priest hobbled forward, staff trembling.
“I have read the ancient texts…” he said. “Two children born under clashing divine powers… They are Heavenfire Twins. They are harbingers of calamity.”
“That’s enough!” Rylan snapped. “They’re my children!”
But the priest did not stop.
“One twin born of radiant flame,” he said, pointing to Arin. “A bringer of rebirth.”
“And one born of abyssal fire,” he whispered, staring fearfully at Lyra. “A bringer of destruction.”
Loud murmurs spread.
Seraphina clutched the babies protectively. “My daughter is not a curse!”
But the villagers were turning. Several backed away as if the twins were a plague.
“Get them away from our children!”
“They’ll bring disaster to the village!”
“This is a sign from the heavens!”
Rylan felt rage boil within him. “If any of you lay a finger on them—”
He did not finish.
Because in that exact moment, the twins—perhaps sensing danger—began to cry in unison.
Arin’s golden flames erupted around him, illuminating the entire village square.
Lyra’s shadow-fire spiraled outward, twisting the air into a frigid whirlwind.
The two forces clashed—
And a shockwave blasted across the village, knocking everyone off their feet.
Houses shook. Trees bent. The earth split in a thin glowing line.
Rylan shielded Seraphina and the babies with his body as villagers screamed and scrambled away.
The sky’s fiery ring pulsed once, twice—
Then disappeared.
Leaving only silence.
The villagers stared at the twins with pure terror.
“No,” Seraphina whispered, tears falling. “Please… don’t fear them…”
But it was too late.
The seed of dread had been planted.
And the shadows of fate had begun to move.
Cliffhanger
As Rylan carried his small family back toward their home, a cold wind slithered across the village.
A whisper echoed above them—neither human nor beast.
“Found them…”
Rylan froze, turning slowly.
A hooded figure stood at the edge of the forest, eyes burning like molten gold.
And behind him, dozens of silhouettes emerged… each with blazing wings unfurled.
The Phoenix Clan had finally arrived.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 13 — The Slum’s Three Friends
The slums were louder than usual that morning—shouts from street vendors, the clang of broken pots, the distant laughter of children pretending they weren’t starving. But beneath the noise, Arin felt a tension lurking in the air. As if the world itself was holding its breath after the strange symbol had appeared on their wall the night before.He kept Lyra close as they made their way toward the water barrels. Their shelter was no longer safe. They needed information—and allies.Whether he liked it or not.Lyra tugged on his sleeve. “Do you think someone will help us?”Arin hesitated. Help was hard to come by in the slums. But there were three people—three children like them—who had crossed paths with him enough times to matter.The first appeared without warning, as always.A cold voice cut through the morning air.“You’re late. The water’s almost gone.”Arin turned.Elira stood by the barrel, pale morning light reflecting off her dark hair. Her expression was as unreadable as ever—e
Chapter 12 — Arin’s First Faint Echo
The night fell heavy over the slums, carrying an unnatural chill that seeped through broken rooftops and thin blankets. Arin lay curled on the dirt floor beside Lyra, trembling uncontrollably. Sweat drenched his forehead. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts.A fever—violent and sudden.Lyra had begged him to rest in the warmest corner of their makeshift shelter, but warmth felt like a distant dream. Every pulse of heat sent another wave of pain through Arin’s body, as though something inside him was fighting to break free.“Arin,” Lyra whispered, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Please stay awake. Please.”He tried to respond, but the world around him blurred into a haze of shadows and muffled sounds.His fever wasn’t normal.His visions weren’t normal.And worst of all—the presence watching them earlier still lingered in the back of his mind.Arin gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”The lie fell apart the moment it left his mouth. His body shook harder, his throat tightened, a
Chapter 11 — First Sign of Divine Bloodline
The slums woke slowly that morning, as if the sun itself hesitated to pour its light upon a place that forgot hope long ago. Thin smoke drifted from broken chimneys. Mothers shook dust from blankets. Children with hollow eyes hunted for leftover scraps from the market three streets away.But inside a narrow alley, beneath a collapsed roof held together by old rope and desperate faith, Arin and Lyra sat huddled beside a shivering stray dog.It had followed them for two days—limping, ribs showing, fur matted with dried blood. Arin had tried to scare it off at first. One more mouth meant one more problem. But Lyra… Lyra couldn’t walk away.She never could.“Arin,” she whispered, cupping the dog’s head gently. “He’s going to die.”Arin looked away. He hated this feeling—the helplessness of wanting to save but lacking the power, the food, even the freedom to try. He had nothing. He was nothing. And the world made sure he never forgot that.“We can’t save every dying thing,” Arin muttered.
Chapter 10 — Growing in Filth
The slums changed slowly—rotting boards collapsing here, a new layer of grime added there—but for Arin and Lyra, change happened whether they wanted it or not. Days turned into months; months slid into years. The world did not pause for abandoned twins.And so, they grew.Not in comfort or warmth, but in filth.The slums of Ember Hollow offered no kindness. The air always smelled of spoiled rice and smoke. Beggars fought over scraps. Children disappeared without a trace. Gangs controlled the alleys like miniature tyrants. But even in this cesspool, two small figures endured—thin, hungry, and clothed in stitched rags.Yet, they were always together.Always.At age five, Arin already possessed the shoulders and arms of a child who worked far beyond his years. Every morning, he hauled buckets of water for a local tavern in exchange for stale bread. Every afternoon, he carried wooden crates for vendors—sometimes for coins, more often for kicks to the ribs.But he didn’t complain.He could
Chapter 9 — A Miracle of Survival
The slums of Ember Hollow were places where even the moonlight hesitated to fall. Cracked rooftops leaned like broken ribs, and foul-smelling mist rose from open drains. Scavengers prowled the alleys—rats, thieves, and worse. In this forgotten corner of the realm, the cries of abandoned children were no more significant than the whistling of the wind.Tonight, however, something stirred differently.A faint, whimpering sound came from a dirty bundle near a collapsed wall. Two infants huddled together—one boy and one girl—wrapped in torn cloth that still carried the faint scent of phoenix ash. Their cheeks were smeared with dust, but their eyes glowed with unusual brilliance. The girl, Lyra, slept fitfully, clutching her brother’s sleeve. The boy, Arin, remained awake, tiny brows scrunched as though he sensed danger crawling closer.They were only a year old—soft, fragile, defenseless.Or so it seemed.A group of bandits moved through the slum path, boots splashing through muddy puddle
Chapter 8 — The Night of Abandonment
“Some stories begin with love. Theirs began with being thrown away.”Night fell harshly on Emberfall Village.A storm gathered above the rooftops, stirring dust and dead leaves through the narrow alleys. Windows shut early. Dogs hid under porches. Even the wind felt afraid.Two infants—one boy, one girl—shivered in an old wicker basket as they were carried under the cloak of darkness.Lyra’s tiny fingers clung to the frayed cloth.Arin, barely awake, whimpered against the cold.Joren Vale cursed under his breath as thunder rumbled overhead.“Damn these brats,” he spat, struggling with the basket. “Should’ve drowned them when we had the chance.”Mirra, walking beside him, hissed sharply, “Quiet! Elden said no bodies. Just leave them. Quick and clean.”“Clean?” Joren sneered. “We already burned their house.”Mirra slapped his arm. “Shut up!”Behind them, the burned remains of Rylan’s cottage still glowed faintly—embers simmering beneath the ash. The smell of smoke clung stubbornly to th
You may also like
Sword and Bloodline
Blessedcreation13.6K viewsThe Chronicles of a Mage God
Benjamin_Jnr62.7K viewsThe Saga of the Unbroken
RandomGuy32.3K viewsThe Legend Of Sword God
Djisamsoe 17.4K viewsREX: The Powerful Being
Moni Sky13.6K viewsReborn As A Mushroom
Little LYTA1.0K viewsRebirth Of The Dragon Prince
I.J RAVELLE1.4K viewsNaked BONES OF THE BETRAYED
Ibechi108 views