For centuries, among the serpent empires beneath Lord Urzan’s gaze, there existed a nature among the serpent clan. The delivery of an egg was never the burden of one mate alone.

It belonged to two souls. Two bodies and two hearts bound by fate because the serpent’s nature itself was possessive, protective, and ancient.

When the time came for a consort to deliver an egg, the Alpha serpent would never leave their side. Never, not for war, not for duty, and not even for death itself if nature allowed otherwise.

The Alpha would return to their original serpent form and coil protectively around their consort. Massive scales are becoming a living sanctuary; their tail would wrap gently around the omega’s body, holding, protecting, and supporting.

And then the Alpha would release warmth. The warmth of love and protection. The warmth carried through generations of the serpent clan, kings, and queens. Their pheromones would spread endlessly through the nest chamber, surrounding their mate like invisible silk, calming fear, easing pain and strengthening the bond between parent and child.

And beneath that warmth, the egg would come safely and naturally. As though guided by nature itself because among serpents, delivery was not merely birth. It was a sacred ritual.

A promise and a declaration that neither mate would face the journey alone.

But when one mate was absent... Everything changed. The warmth vanished, the protective pheromones weakened, and the fear grew stronger.

Pain became sharper and grief settled where comfort should have been. The body sensed the absence; even the unborn child sensed the absence.

And sometimes...that absence became dangerous.

For the egg and for the consort. Yet Levin’s situation was far worse than anything recorded within Serpent history.

Because Levin was not serpent-born, he was human.

A human who had somehow defied nature itself and a human carrying the child of a royal serpent, Prime Alpha emperor.

Something that should never have existed and something that had never happened before, and now the impossible was becoming even more impossible.

Because even if Levin survived the delivery...even if the egg survived the delivery...another problem awaited.

Serpent eggs required warmth, a constant warmth. The warmth of an Alpha serpent. After laying the egg, the Alpha would continue coiling around it for days and nights, releasing heat through scales and blood.

Protecting the fragile life sleeping within and guarding it until the hatchling finally emerged. It was nature. It was instinct, and it was survival.

But Levin could not do that; he was human, and his body could not produce serpent warmth. His body could not protect the egg the way a serpent parent could.

And the only serpent capable of doing so...the child’s father and the Malik of Zahryssar.

The man whose warmth should have surrounded them both was missing. Lost somewhere beyond mountains and kingdoms, unaware that his mate was already beginning a battle he was never meant to fight alone.

***

[Inside the Hut—Village of Sah’Rumeh — Continuation]

Outside, the entire village had fallen silent. Even the children no longer played and even the mountain winds seemed quieter because everyone knew what was happening inside that small wooden hut.

And everyone feared the same thing.

Would the child survive? Would Levin survive? Or would both be taken by fate before dawn arrived?

Meanwhile, inside the hut, the atmosphere had become suffocating. Hot water steamed from clay bowls. Medicinal herbs burned slowly in copper burners; blankets were piled around the bed.

Yet despite all the preparations nothing could replace what was truly missing.

The Mate.

"Nghh—!"

A broken groan escaped Levin’s lips; his entire body trembled violently beneath the blankets. Sweat soaked his hair, and his breathing had become ragged, uneven, and painfully shallow.

Iru rushed inside carrying another bowl of hot water. His hands were shaking so badly that water nearly spilled onto the floor.

"Grandmother Hira—!"

"Put it there."

Immediately Iru obeyed, then his eyes landed on Levin and his heart nearly shattered because Levin looked exhausted, as though every ounce of strength inside him had already been consumed.

Another wave hit.

"AHHH—!"

Levin doubled over instantly, his fingers clutching the blankets desperately and his entire body shaking from the pain.

Iru’s eyes immediately reddened as his voice cracked. "Why...why is this happening right now?"

Grandmother Hira remained focused; her weathered hands never stopped moving, never stopped checking, and never stopped helping.

"It is stress." Her voice carried years of experience. "The body can endure grief. It can endure fear, but there comes a moment when it can endure no more."

Another painful cry escaped Levin.

"Ahhh—!" 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Immediately Iru rushed beside him.

"Malika..."

Levin barely heard him because pain had become everything. The room, the air, the world, and somewhere inside that pain he found himself searching desperately for warmth, for comfort, and for something familiar.

But there was nothing: no silver scales, no serpent coils, no golden eyes, and no Zeramet.

And somehow that hurt more than the delivery itself.

"Zer..." The name escaped his lips unconsciously, weakly and desperately.

Iru lowered his head immediately, unable to help and unable to become what Levin truly needed. Then suddenly another violent contraction struck, far stronger than before.

Levin screamed; the sound echoed throughout the hut, and outside, Asha immediately stood, growling anxiously.

Lyresaph pressed himself against the hut entrance, blue eyes wide and terrified because even the dragon understood. His human was suffering, and he could do nothing.

Inside, Grandmother Hira immediately moved closer. "Listen to me, child."

Levin barely opened his eyes. "Push...push harder."

Levin cried out, every muscle in his body trembling violently; minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days.

Again...and again...and again. Until finally Grandmother Hira’s eyes widened. "I can see it!"

Levin’s vision had already begun blurring, darkness creeping along the edges because he had lost too much strength, too much energy, and too much blood.

Another push, another cry, and then silence.

For one terrifying moment the entire hut froze. Levin’s body collapsed backward, completely limp.

"Malika!" Iru immediately rushed forward, panic flooding his voice.

Upon the blankets rested a small silver egg, barely larger than both hands, covered in faint silver markings.

Softly glowing and alive. The child had arrived, but Levin had almost stopped responding.

"Malika!"

Iru’s voice broke completely. Panic flooded his face as he rushed toward the bed.

Meanwhile, Grandmother Hira immediately pressed trembling fingers against Levin’s neck checking his pulse and then again...and again.

The old healer’s face remained pale until finally she released a shaky breath. "He’s alive."

Relief crashed through the room only briefly because immediately afterward Grandmother Hira’s eyes widened and then widened further.

And suddenly she froze.

"...No."

Iru looked up immediately. "What is it?"

The old healer slowly lowered her trembling hand toward Levin’s stomach. Her weathered fingers pressing gently against it, then again.

And this time her face completely lost color.

"There’s another egg."

Silence, an absolute silence.

Iru blinked once and twice. Then stared at her as though he had misheard. "...What?"

Grandmother Hira slowly looked toward him, still shocked herself. "There’s another egg inside him."

The bowl in Iru’s hands slipped.

CRASH!

Water spilled across the floor, but neither of them cared because that was impossible, completely impossible.

Upon the blankets beside Levin rested the silver egg, whole, unbroken, and alive.

And yet they all remembered. They remembered the shattered egg was destroyed; the imperial physician Naram himself said that. The certainty that one child had been lost forever.

Iru’s entire body trembled as his lips shook violently. "No...that’s impossible."

Grandmother Hira swallowed hard. "I do not know serpent births. I do not understand their nature."

Another painful contraction suddenly tore through Levin’s body.

"AHHHHH—!"

His back arched violently, every muscle trembling and every breath becoming ragged. Immediately, Grandmother Hira moved.

"The second child is coming!"

Levin’s eyes opened weakly, confused and lost.

"The..." A sharp breath escaped him. "The second...?"

Another wave of pain struck, cruel and merciless. And suddenly understanding appeared inside his eyes: the shattered egg, the child, the possibility, and the hope.

"No..." A tear slipped down his face.

And then another cry escaped him. Pain and desperation mixing together, minutes passed, or perhaps hours.

No one could tell anymore; only pain remained, only struggle, and only survival.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until finally Grandmother Hira’s eyes widened.

"I see it!"

Another push.

Levin screamed, and then there was silence. For one long heartbeat nobody moved and nobody breathed. Then resting beside the silver egg lay a second egg. Larger, golden, beautiful, and covered in faint glowing patterns.

Alive.

Both children were alive.

The room froze, and Levin stared toward the eggs, his vision blurry and his breathing weak. The silver egg and the golden egg.

Both were there, both alive, and suddenly a broken laugh escaped him.

A laugh filled with tears, with relief and with disbelief, as his voice cracked, "They’re...they’re both here..."

Another tear slipped down his cheek; for weeks and for months he had believed one child was lost forever.

He had mourned, he had cried, and he had buried that grief inside himself. And yet both children had survived. Levin doesn’t know how...but they both survived.

A faint smile appeared upon his face, small, fragile, and beautiful. His trembling hand lifted weakly toward the eggs.

"My babies...thank Lord Urzan..."

Iru had already begun crying openly; the silver egg glowed softly, and the golden egg rested quietly beside it, and for the first time since Zeramet disappeared, happiness appeared inside Levin’s eyes.

Only for a moment because suddenly the color vanished from his face.

The smile faded, his hand dropped, and darkness surged forward.

"Malika?" Iru froze instantly.

Levin’s eyes slowly closed, his breathing weakened and then weakened again, far too weak.

"Malika?" Iru’s voice trembled, but there was no response.

"Malika?"

Nothing. Fear exploded inside the room, and immediately Grandmother Hira rushed forward, checking his pulse, then again and again.

The old healer’s face turned pale.

Iru’s entire body shook; his breathing became uneven.

"No...no..."

Then suddenly he grabbed Levin’s shoulders desperately.

"NO!" Tears streamed down his face. "Malika! NO!"

The eggs glowed quietly beside the unconscious father. And the darkness swallowed Levin completely, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the image of two eggs resting together.

Alive, safe, and waiting for him. While somewhere beyond mountains and kingdoms, their father remained unable to return.

"NO... NO, MALIKA... PLEASE..."

Iru’s broken cries echoed throughout the hut, and for the very first time, everyone inside feared that surviving the delivery might not be enough.