The Star Between His Hands

In that humble cottage, where silence reigned and memories clung to the worn walls like dust, Helen's condition grew worse by the day. Her body withered slowly, her features fading like a flower wilting at the first breath of autumn.

Kyle knew. There wasn't much time left. Death crept upon her gently, yet mercilessly. He stood powerless, watching the one he loved fade into shadow. And yet—Helen smiled. She cradled Luna every day, whispering to her, playing with her as though the child held within her the dream Helen never thought would come true.

One day, she laughed softly, her voice a fading melody, and turned to him.

"Look at her, Kyle... Isn't she beautiful? When she gazes at me, it feels as if she's trying to speak before her time."

She knew. And so did he. But there was no fear in her eyes—only gratitude.

"I never once regretted marrying you. Even through the sickness, you gave me everything I ever wanted. Everything... except for one last wish."

Kyle turned away sharply, almost angrily. 

"Enough, Helen! Don't say things like that. You'll get better, I promise."

She smiled gently, placing her hand on his. 

"If you ever loved me, even just for a moment... please, grant me this one wish."

She coughed—blood tainting her lips as it often did. He rushed to help her, wiped the blood away, and tried to suppress the storm in his chest.

Then, with the softness of a prayer, she said: 

"Hold Luna, Kyle. You've never held her. Not once."

He looked away, his voice low. 

"I'm tired, Helen... I don't want to."

She stared at him with quiet insistence. 

"Hold her, Kyle. She's our daughter."

Kyle felt like a prisoner to a fate he hadn't chosen. He remembered the offer—gold beyond counting—from King Harold and Orin, the royal advisor. They only wanted the child returned. He could have rid himself of this burden and started fresh. But he'd refused. He didn't want anything from that cursed palace. He wanted only peace—with Helen.

But now, Helen was slipping away, and she was leaving him with this child—her last, sacred request.

Reluctantly, he took the baby in his arms. She was pale as moonlight, with silver-white hair and deep blue eyes. Her gaze pierced him with innocent wonder. Then she smiled... and reached out to touch his cheek.

Something inside him stirred.

He sat beside Helen, clutching his wounded leg, then spoke softly. 

"If you'd asked me for a star, I would've brought you one."

She smiled faintly, a tear tracing her cheek. 

"But the star is already in your arms, Kyle. She's the fruit of our love. Take care of her... she's God's gift to us."

He embraced Luna for the first time, then held his wife as though trying to lock time in place. But he knew... fate had its own path.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of crying. Luna. She cried with an urgency that startled him.

This wasn't normal. Helen always woke before him to feed her.

"Helen? Did sleep win you over this time?" he said, half-joking.

Silence.

He turned toward her. She hadn't moved.

Confused, he tried to wake her. "Helen?" he repeated, shaking her gently.

But she didn't respond.

Her face was still. Her body... cold.

She was gone.

A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft, aching cries of the infant.

Kyle stood frozen in place, cradling Helen's lifeless body in his arms. He looked at her as if hoping—begging—for her to return, for her to open her eyes just once more, to whisper his name like she used to. But death had closed that door forever.

Slowly, as though the weight of time itself bore down on him, he laid her head gently on the pillow. Then he turned… toward Luna.

She was crying, her tiny arms reaching into the air as if asking someone—anyone—to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her that the world hadn't ended.

Kyle stared at her for a long moment. This child he had never wanted. This burden he had longed to rid himself of. To him, she had always been a symbol of the palace, of deceit and obligation—of a life he had never asked for. Yet now, her tears pierced him. Her voice stirred something unfamiliar in his chest.

He stepped toward her, each footfall as though rewriting the path of his future.

With trembling hands, he reached down and lifted her. For the first time, he felt her weight—not just her tiny frame, but the weight of responsibility, of memory, of love unspoken. She was not just a child. She was Helen's last wish, her final breath, her living legacy.

He held her close to his chest. And he wept.

He wept silently, like a man broken open. He wept for Helen, for his helplessness, for the time he had wasted resisting the bond he had never allowed to form.

And then… he looked into Luna's eyes—those deep, blue eyes—and he saw Helen. Not in body, but in spirit. Smiling through the child she left behind.

In that moment, Kyle finally understood.

This little girl was no longer a burden.

She was a promise.

"Take care of her… she's our star, Luna."

And now, she was all he had.

And he would never let her go.

In the high mountains, where frost meets stillness,

there lay a hidden cave above the clouds... a cave unknown to man or bird.

Deep within, ancient fire pulsed in the chest of a black dragon.

He was no ordinary dragon—he was the forgotten heir to the throne,

Eriks, son of the Dragon King and Queen.

His eyes burned like glowing coal,

and his chest rose and fell slowly,

as though a thousand years of vengeance slumbered inside.

Before him stood Diana, the witch who had saved and raised him.

She held a large, glowing crystal in her hands,

its light flickering as if it held time itself.

— "Look here, my dragon prince... this is the kingdom, this is the castle...

There lie your true enemies."

Flashing images appeared within the crystal:

King Harold, Queen Victoria,

and the girl with fiery orange hair who called them "Mother and Father."

It was Adara.

Eriks growled softly, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scenes.

— "Her? She's the one who holds my parents' power? Why?

Why her of all people... an enemy?"

Diana hesitated for a moment… then answered:

— "Because she's protected.

Because no one would dare harm the princess of the palace.

She was weak, barely clinging to life,

and your parents needed a vessel fragile enough to hold such power—

a body no one would question, no one would destroy."

The dragon turned to her, suspicion gleaming in his burning eyes.

— "You said humans and dragons once lived in peace…

What started the war?"

Diana replied, bitterness seeping through her voice:

— "Humans are greedy.

They wanted all the land for themselves.

They slaughtered the dragons one by one.

Your father died with honor,

And your mother shielded you with her body.

I... I was the only one who saved you."

The massive dragon leaned closer to the crystal,

as if he could smell blood through its glow.

— "I will take back my power.

I will burn them all."

Diana bowed low, her tone reverent.

— "When the time comes, my prince…"