Chapter 198 Teaching the Children
Elara’s POV
“I hate myself!” Aurora screamed, throwing ice at her reflection. “One gold eye! One purple eye! I look like a FREAK!”
Ember cried in the corner. His half-black, half-gold scales making him look permanently split. “People stare at me. They’re scared.”
“People are idiots,” I said firmly. “You’re both beautiful. Fractured doesn’t mean broken.”
“Yes it does!” Aurora sobbed. “I can’t balance anymore! The gold side fights the purple side! They’re at war inside me!”
“Then we teach you how to make peace,” Drakon decided. “We tell you our story. How we were fractured too.”
“You were never like THIS!” Aurora gestured at her mismatched eyes.
“Worse. We were fractured in our souls. Our hearts. Our trust.” I pulled both children close. “Let me tell you how it started. Twenty years ago. When I was forced to marry a dragon I’d never met.”
Over the next days, we told them everything. Not the sanitized version. The real story.
“I lied to Papa,” I admitted. “Pretended to be a princess. Deceived him for weeks.”
“Why?” Ember asked.
“Because I was scared. Thought honesty would get me killed. So I chose lies instead.”
“Did it work?”
“No. Lies never work. Papa discovered the truth. Got angry. Hurt. Betrayed.”
“What did you do?” Aurora asked.
“I begged for forgiveness. Not because I expected it. Because I needed to try. Needed to show I was sorry.”
Drakon continued. “And I wanted to stay angry. Wanted to hate her. Would’ve been easier.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I saw her courage. Saw her apologize even though it was hard. Saw her choose honesty even when it risked everything.” He touched my face. “That’s when I started loving her. Not for perfection. For courage.”
“So courage matters more than perfection?” Aurora asked.
“Always. Perfect people don’t exist. Courageous people do. They’re the ones who change the world.”
We told them about the struggles. The mistakes. The reconciliations.
“We fought constantly,” I said. “About everything. Trust. Power. Choices.”
“But you’re happy now,” Ember observed.
“Because we learned. Grew. Chose each other repeatedly. Even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.”
“Trust isn’t given,” Drakon added. “It’s earned. Every day. Through small actions. Consistent love. Proven commitment.”
“Like you saving us from corruption?” Aurora asked.
“Exactly. That’s what love does. Sacrifices. Protects. Chooses others over self.”
Over weeks, our children listened. Learned. Understood.
“You were fractured like us,” Aurora realized. “Just differently. You didn’t match. Different species. Different worlds. Different everything.”
“But we became whole together,” I finished. “Not by fixing our fractures. By accepting them. By loving each other BECAUSE of our differences, not despite them.”
“So our fractures could be good?” Ember asked hopefully.
“They could be your strength. Because you see both sides. Understand both perspectives. Bridge both worlds. Just like your papa and I did.”
“You really think we can do that?”
“I know you can. You’re already doing it. Aurora, you have one gold eye and one purple. That means you literally see the world from two perspectives simultaneously.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“And Ember, your half-black, half-gold scales show everyone that balance is possible. That light and dark can coexist. That’s powerful.”
Our children grew stronger. Learned to live fractured. Found wholeness in incompleteness.
But as Aurora turned nine, something changed.
“Mama, people keep asking me questions. About ruling. About becoming queen someday. About leading.”
“What do you tell them?”
“That I’m not ready. That I’m too young. That you and Papa will rule forever.”
“We won’t rule forever, sweetie. Someday, you’ll take over. That’s how it works.”
“I don’t want to!” Aurora looked terrified. “I’m fractured! Incomplete! How can I rule when I’m broken?”
“The same way I ruled when I was a peasant pretending to be a princess. The same way Papa ruled when he was a dragon learning to love humans. Imperfectly. Courageously. Honestly.”
“But what if I fail?”
“You will fail. Many times. That’s part of ruling. Part of living. The question isn’t whether you fail. It’s whether you get back up. Keep trying. Keep choosing courage.”
Over the next year, we began teaching Aurora about governance. Not forcing her. Just preparing her.
“You’ll lead even better than we did,” Drakon said. “Because you’ve never known division. Never known the old hatreds. Never known anything but unity.”
“That’s your strength,” I added. “You don’t have to build unity. You just maintain it. Improve it. Expand it.”
“The future is bright,” Lily agreed. “Because you’ll make it brighter.”
Aurora slowly accepted it. Started learning. Attending councils. Observing decisions. Understanding governance.
She was natural. Brilliant. Compassionate. Everything a queen should be.
But on her tenth birthday, something arrived. A gift. From the Void Empress.
We opened it carefully. Inside, a crown. Beautiful. Perfectly sized for Aurora.
And a note:
“For the future queen. You’ll wear this crown in eight years. On your eighteenth birthday. When you become ruler. When your parents finally surrender the throne.
Not because they want to. Because they’ll be dead. Both of them. Killed by me. Exactly eight years from today.
You’ll rule alone. Orphaned. Fractured. Broken. And I’ll whisper in your ear every day. Reminding you that your parents died for nothing. That unity failed. That you failed.
Unless you prevent it. Unless you give yourself to me. Become my vessel. Let me rule through you. Then I’ll spare your parents. Let them live. Let them see you reign.
Eight years, Aurora. Choose: Dead parents and failed unity. Or surrendered soul and living family.
Think about it.
\-The Void Empress”
Aurora held the crown. Trembling.
“Eight years until you kill Mama and Papa?” she asked the note. “Eight years until I have to choose?”
“We won’t let her kill us,” I promised.
“But what if you can’t stop her? What if in eight years, you’re gone? What if I’m ruling alone?” Aurora’s mismatched eyes filled with tears. “What if the only way to save you is to become her? To let void win?”
“You’ll choose differently,” Drakon said firmly. “You’ll find the third option. Like always.”
“But what if there isn’t one this time?” Aurora whispered. “What if eight years from now, I’m standing at your funeral, wearing this crown, deciding whether to avenge you or save you by betraying everything you built?”
She placed the crown on her head. It fit perfectly.
And for a moment, her eyes both turned pure purple.
The void crown was already corrupting her.
Already showing her what she’d become.
Already preparing her to make the impossible choice.
In eight years.
When she turned eighteen.
When she became queen.
When she’d rule alone.
Or surrender everything to keep us alive.
The countdown had begun.
And this time, we had no idea how to stop it.