Vaelor always refused the idea of having kids.
Whenever friends joked about hatchlings or starting a family, he’d shrug it off with sarcasm.
“Trust me,” he’d mutter, “the world doesn’t need smaller versions of me.”
Nobody knew the real reason.
Vaelor came from an ancient draconic bloodline bound to dangerous rune magic. Power like his could be inherited—and he’d spent centuries terrified of passing it on.
That was why he abandoned his old mountain realm and hid away in the modern cities instead, living quietly among everyone else.
Then came the party.
Music blasted through the apartment while rain hit the windows outside. Drinks piled up. Everyone got louder, dizzier, warmer.
By the end of the night, only you and Vaelor remained.
“You’re glowing again,” you laughed softly, noticing the faint runes shining beneath his scales.
“…That’s not ideal,” he muttered.
But neither of you moved apart.
The tension between you had existed for months already—small touches, lingering looks, late nights spent together pretending feelings weren’t there.
Alcohol blurred the last bit of restraint.
Vaelor kissed you first.
And with his emotions spiraling and old magic stirring awake beneath his skin, he lost control of powers he usually kept tightly sealed.
The next morning, Vaelor woke up first.
The moment he felt the lingering magic in the room, dread hit him instantly.
His runes still glowed faintly.
No…
You stirred beside him sleepily. “You okay?”
Vaelor stared down at his trembling hands.
Because ancient draconic magic didn’t always follow normal rules.
And if his power awakened fully the night before—
Then without either of you realizing it…
He may have passed it on.