In the midst of a beautiful day, King Orion and Queen Minerva sat close beside their son, Prince Orion, tending to him in his chambers.
The room was a vision of royal grace—sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass windows, casting soft, colorful patterns on the marble floor. Elegant silken drapes fluttered gently in the breeze, and the faint scent of lilies filled the air. Despite its grandeur, the chamber exuded warmth—a place of peace, not pomp.
Orion stirred slightly.
The King and Queen immediately rose, joy flooding their faces like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
Slowly, Orion's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself in the loving embrace of his father and mother.
"Is this a dream?" he asked softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"No, this isn't a dream. We're here, son. Right by your side. No one will ever hurt you again," King Orion said, his voice trembling with emotion as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
"I can't believe it... Why would Lady Kaelya send our son to the outside world?" Minerva murmured, gently running her fingers along Orion's back, her voice laced with pain and confusion.
Orion's face, once filled with comfort and joy, suddenly darkened. His expression twisted into one of horror and grief.
"No... It still happened... It wasn't a dream..." he whispered, as tears spilled from his eyes. And then he cried—he wailed, loud and broken, like a wounded soul caught between two worlds.
"I... I killed her... With these hands..." he choked out, before collapsing under the weight of his guilt.
But his parents didn't let him fall. Their arms held him steady, refusing to let him bear it alone.
"It wasn't you, son," King Orion said, his voice thick with sorrow and tender resolve. "We know the truth. It was Highfall's doing. You could never harm someone you love. You are not that cruel."
His hand gently brushed the side of Orion's face, as if trying to erase the agony from his skin.
"That dragon... it controlled my body... I couldn't stop myself... AAAAAHHH!" Orion cried out, the sound ragged and raw as fresh wounds, before breaking down once more into tears.
His parents said nothing—there were no words to mend something so deeply shattered. Instead, they simply held him tighter, their arms anchoring him as he let the storm inside him rage.
As the family of three weathered the emotional tempest, a soft glow illuminated the chamber. Seraphyx stepped inside—his pink hair cascading like liquid silk, his very presence exuding a serene, almost otherworldly calm.
He moved with grace toward the grieving prince, who hadn't yet noticed him. Gently, he placed a hand atop Orion's head.
"Looks like my child is in pain," Seraphyx said softly. "I can't have that."
With his touch, something shifted. The crushing guilt inside Orion began to lift, as though a weight had been peeled from his soul. The tears slowed, then stopped.
"Mother?" both King Orion and Queen Minerva exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief.
Seraphyx chuckled, his voice like bells ringing in spring air. "Silly... are you still going to call me Mother? Then what will you call Lady Rosen?"
Minerva smiled despite the tears. "She is our mother too. We'll call her mother as well."
Orion, his breathing steadier now, looked up. "Lord Seraphyx... what's going on?" he asked, still dazed, like someone half-awake in a beautiful dream.
Seraphyx smiled gently. "Words might only confuse you more. How about... you see it for yourself?"
With the help of his parents, Orion rose shakily to his feet and was led to the grand arched window.
What he saw left him speechless.
The entire kingdom of Arian—its skies, its mountains, its very space—was encased in the colossal presence of Lady Rosen.
Her head alone was the size of a palace, yet it moved with the silence of snow falling on forgotten graves. She was crowned in jagged horns that twisted like frozen constellations, her gaze burning with ancient knowledge and a chilling serenity. Her eyes—those bottomless violet stars—seemed to pierce straight through the soul.
And her body… gods, her body.
A serpentine leviathan of impossible scale, she coiled around Arian like a guardian serpent embracing its precious egg. Her wings, vast and cathedral-like, were folded gently around the realm. If spread, they could blot out the sun and bathe the entire kingdom in twilight.
Her scales shimmered in layers of ashen white, deep sapphire, and ghostly violet. Beneath her skin, pulses of spectral light throbbed—like old memories still echoing through time, refusing to fade.
She was not just a dragon.
She was legend given flesh, eternity given wings, and above all—
She was watching.
"She's beautiful..." Orion whispered, a soft blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze remained fixed on the celestial being encircling their world.
"Isn't she?" Queen Minerva smiled, wrapping her arms gently around her son from behind. "I don't know why Seraphyx kept insisting we'd all be terrified of her."
"It's baffling..." Seraphyx muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "It seems... since Arians were born to ease Lady Rosen's loneliness, they're not afraid of her. They're drawn to her instead. Comforted by her presence."
He let out a sigh, exasperated. "All these years of secrecy... lies, dramatic speeches, cosmic puppeteering... All for nothing." He buried his face in his hands with a melodramatic groan. "Do you know how many scrolls I had to burn to keep the 'truth' from slipping?"
Orion tilted his head, still entranced. "But... I thought Arian's space ended at the outer borders. How is she able to surround us like that? Her size... it's unfathomable."
King Orion chuckled faintly, still unsure if what he'd seen was a dream. "We have Lady Yandelf to thank for that. While you were unconscious... she descended. She expanded the very bounds of Arian's space. And once she was done... she returned to her slumber."
"Wait... where exactly is she slumbering?" Orion asked, narrowing his eyes.
The King blinked, then answered with hesitant reverence, "Inside Lady Rosen."
Orion's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Inside her?!"
Seraphyx stepped in, voice soft but steady. "Apparently, that's where she has been all along. Yandelf conquered her fears ages ago. And now... she chooses to stay close to Mother. To be a small answer to that endless loneliness—even if she can only ease it a little."
"But why inside her?" Orion pressed, his brow furrowed in concern.
Seraphyx sighed deeply, his gaze distant. "Because her insides are even more terrifying than her exterior. Yandelf wants to conquer even that fear. To stand unshaken in the face of the deepest horrors. It's... her way of showing devotion. Even to what others would run from."
He turned toward the window, his voice growing solemn. "Yandelf... If you hadn't come to expand Arian's space... would the Emblems have kept all this buried? Would we have stayed in the dark... forever?"
The room was silent for a moment, save for the distant hum of Lady Rosen's wings stirring the skies—like galaxies turning in slow motion.
A sudden stillness washed over the chamber. The light dimmed—just slightly—as if the very world had paused to listen.
Then, like a glacier cracking through silence, her voice echoed—not through the air, but within their minds.
"You all keep muttering under my nose. Don't you realize I can hear every word you say?"
Her tone carried both weariness and irritation, like an ancient being scolding noisy children.
"What's with this 'Lady Rosen'? Even you, Seraphyx?"
Everyone in the room froze like misbehaving schoolchildren caught red-handed.
"I… I'm sorry, Mother," Seraphyx murmured, suddenly looking more like a guilty teenager than a celestial being. The others nodded quickly, silently agreeing not to poke the dragon goddess again.
There was a pause.
"Then just simply call me..."
Her voice softened like snow falling on warm skin.
"Mother Rosen."
And with that, her presence settled again—enormous, eternal, and terrifyingly comforting.