19. Blood of Two Worlds #3
He draped the thick blanket over himself, creating a barrier between his body and the cold air while keeping her protected beneath her own layers. His hand settled protectively over her shoulder, shielding her from the world, from everything that had tried to take her from him.
He buried his face in the crown of her braided hair, inhaling her scent until it was the only thing left in his world.
And for the first time in what felt like eternity, Malec closed his eyes.
And slept.
The dream descended like silk, gentle and unburdened by flame or fury. Only wind breathing through ancient trees and a soft, sacred hum of innocence.
Malec was walking, brown boots sinking into thick moss, each step soundless, absorbed into the forest floor.
His white tunic was intricately embroidered with silver thread that caught the strange pearlescent light, fitted close to his frame.
Black trousers hugged his legs, and a long red sash was tied around his waist, the ends flowing gently in the windless air.
His sword was not at his side. But he didn’t need it, not here.
The birch woods stretched around him, familiar but strange, the trunks glowing white under a soft glowing yellow light that kissed the trees and draped mist over the golden leaves.
Above him, the sky was void. Pitch black, moonless.
As though the forest existed on its own plane, suspended in nothing.
And at its heart, he heard it.
Humming. A sweet, low sound. Ancient. Innocent.
It drew him forward, guiding his steps as he moved through the trees. He pushed aside low branches with careful hands until he reached a clearing bathed in ethereal light.
There, beneath the wide shade of a flowering tree, sat a boy.
No more than four or five winters old. Awyan. His silver curls caught the dreamlight, shimmering like starlight. He wore a simple long tunic that fell past his knees, pale cream linen that seemed to glow against the moss. His small feet were bare, toes curling into the soft green beneath him.
And cradled in his lap was Allora.
She lay sleeping, her dark curls spilling across his small thighs in cascading waves.
She wore a beautiful flowing purple dress, intricate patterns woven into the silk that caught the light with every breath she took.
The fabric pooled around her like water, shimmering with hidden depths.
Her face was peaceful, serene, untouched by pain.
The boy's tiny fingers moved through her hair in slow, rhythmic strokes, soothing and protective, as though he had done it a thousand times before.
Malec froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The boy looked up.
Bright wheat colored eyes met his, but they were not purely his own. Silver flecks shimmered in their depths, glowing like starlight scattered across warm tea.
His eye color. Her eye shape.
Malec took a cautious step forward, and immediately the boy's emotional energy surged outward like fire, scorching him in sensation.
Stay away.
Not words, but instinct. Protective. Fierce. Ancient.
Malec stopped immediately, lifting his hand, palm open in peace. His voice came low, almost breaking. "I'm not here to hurt her."
The boy did not answer, but the sensation deepened, pressing harder into Malec's chest. Pure distrust. The little boy with his eyes and her glare was not going to risk violence, he was not yet sure Malec was a threat or not.
Malec sank slowly to his knees in the moss, letting the weight of the moment press into his bones. His chest was tight, his voice softer than he thought possible.
"I didn't know," he said quietly. "I didn't know you were mine."
The boy blinked, his expression unreadable, though his gaze stayed unyielding, bright with a maturity beyond his years.
Malec swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I understand why you protected her from me. I was... I was danger. I was a threat." His voice cracked. "You were right to keep me away."
The energy shifted slightly, its edges softening, though not gone. Still wary and guarded but curiosity threaded through the heat of defiance.
Malec pressed his hand to his chest, steadying himself.
"I swear to you, I will never let harm come to either of you again.
Not from anyone, especially from me." He met the boy's eyes, holding his gaze with absolute sincerity.
"We are family. You, her, and I. We are bound by blood and magic, a true family. "
The boy tilted his head, studying him, and through the haze of dream-logic came a question—not with words, but with the press of thought that seeped into Malec's very being:
What is family?
Malec exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully.
"Family is when you belong. When you look out for each other.
When your blood is shared, your soul too.
It means no one stands alone." His gaze fell to Allora, still resting peacefully in the boy's lap, her face untroubled, serene in this place where time seemed to have stopped.
"Your mother and I weren't born kin, but we share blood now.
Mine runs through her veins. That makes her yours.
And you mine." He paused. "And now you and I, we share her. We both love and protect her."
The clearing shimmered. Mist curled low across the moss, and petals drifted like feathers in a windless hush. Time did not move here. There was no before, no after. Only now.
Malec kept his palm open, steady, waiting.
The child lifted his small hand and placed it into Malec's.
Tentative, but firm. Warmth flooded through Malec, a sense of connection deeper than anything he had ever known.
The boy's fingers curled around his, trusting, accepting as his energy shifted again, softer now.
No fear, no hostility, only recognition.
Malec swallowed hard, his voice rough. "Who are you?"
The boy did not answer in words but Malec felt it.
A flood of images crashed into him all at once, fractured shards of memory and possibility.
Glimmers of lifetimes past, echoes of battles long fought, songs long sung, a thousand unspoken truths strung together like pearls on a string, pulled from the dark ocean of eternity.
And that’s when it hit him, Malec realized he was not just looking at a child.
He was looking at a soul older than his own.
"I am an old one." The emotion came gently, solemnly, as if the boy were still trying to grasp the meaning himself.
"I don't remember everything, but I know I came to her.
I followed her." His tiny fingers ghosted through Allora's hair, the motion instinctive, ritualistic, like a habit carried across lifetimes. "To protect her."
Malec's brow furrowed, his voice low, uncertain. "So you knew her? From before?"
The child's energy shifted, hesitating, though the pause came from the sheer inadequacy of language rather than doubt. The dream seemed to strain under the weight of what he wanted to say. Finally, his thought came through in halting waves. "We were... family? Not recent. Before-before."
Malec blinked slowly, that strange weight in his chest pressing deeper, anchoring him in ways he had never known. He asked, his voice soft with wonder as he breathed the question. "You came into this world just for her?"
The boy nodded once, solemn.
Malec sat back on his heels, mouth slightly open in awe, his chest rising and falling with fragile reverence. His voice broke when he spoke again, hoarse with wonder. “Can I protect her with you?”
The boy's face softened just a touch. A tiny smile curved his lips, and Malec felt it: a wave of warmth, trust, acceptance, wrapping around him like being pulled into an embrace from the inside out. The boy didn't just agree. He was pleased.
"Yes."
Then the boy's gaze lifted upward, his silver-flecked eyes watching the void sky above as though stars invisible to Malec burned just beyond the dream's edge. "I am too little and young. I can't help her yet, I tried and it was too much."
Malec's expression hardened briefly before softening again. His voice dropped lower, a vow pulled from deep inside. "I will until you're grown, until you can protect her yourself."
He leaned forward, resting one large hand gently against Allora's sleeping form, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath his palm.
"But even when you do, even when you tower over me...
" He looked back into the boy's eyes, his own gaze unflinching, raw.
"She is mine—my love, my life, my duty. I will always protect her. That will never change."
The boy blinked slowly, his lashes long and silver in the dreamlight. He tilted his head, studying Malec as a soul rather than simply an Awyan, measuring, weighing, seeing him in a way no one else ever had. And then, his thoughts pressed against Malec's heart, gentle but precise enough to pierce.
"Come hold me... Father."
Malec froze.
The word carried weight beyond language, a blessing and declaration woven together, a thread pulled tight between two hearts across time and flesh, binding them without ritual or law.
He wasn't ready for that.
Father.
A feeling lit up inside him, like a gem splintering under moonlight, spilling light into places that had only ever known shadow. His lips curved with fragile awe, an expression stripped of pretense and utterly real.
"I will," he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. "As soon as I'm sure your mother is safe."
The boy nodded solemnly, his face grave, then turned his gaze downward again. His hand settled over Allora's chest, right above her heart, as though keeping it safe with his touch alone.
The clearing shimmered around them, petals swirling gently through the air, stirred by a quiet power deeper than wind. Malec watched them both, his Vash’telor and his son, and for the first time in his long, battle-worn life, he understood what it meant to belong.