Seventy-Five: The Night Is Gentle

“Elasha.” Lilith stepped from her room, like slipping from lantern light into cool dusk. The little white dragon realized she’d been housed in a Vampire royal bedchamber, all gilt and silk like moonlight on still water. Abaddon had been put in a servants’ room to rest, plain as dry clay beside lacquer.

Outside, the scene matched her fears. The palace had a gash torn open, and the downpour had sluiced through it like a cold river through broken stone. A few frazzled Vampires, singed and soot-streaked, cleaned the wreckage like ants combing a field after hail. Elasha held a stack of parchment leaves and spoke with red-robed Vampires, her silver hair calm as a winter lake, her voice steady as rain on tiles. It looked like a sober briefing on Morris’s relief plan after disaster.

She heard Lilith, and the words fell quiet. The silver-haired princess saw the little white dragon, set the parchments down like fallen feathers, whispered a few lines in her attendants’ ears, and sent them away like sparrows. The cleaners took the hint, gathered their tools, and slipped out in twos and threes like dusk shadows.

“Awake?” Elasha crossed to her. She’d traded her white uniform for a white dress, soft as mist. Lilith felt her shoulders loosen; in this dress, Elasha felt gentler, like moon over water instead of steel in snow.

“Awake,” Lilith nodded. “What happened while I was out?”

“Out… if you mean blacking out midair from exhaustion and calling that ‘sleep’…” Elasha’s look was half exasperation, half relief, a sigh in rain. She let it go. “Do you remember the Legendary Sword?”

“The Legendary Sword? Of course.” How could she forget? By her digging, that blade was likely her Shattered Ark. When she’d been collecting data, she’d scrapped with a giant stone man and got pummeled—bruises like ink blots.

But hadn’t Eve shattered the Shattered Ark? The fire she’d taken from Udis had become a pink-white longsword and fused into the old hilt. The Black Knight’s rusted sword had melted into it, too.

Wait. Where was that sword?

A beat late, the little white dragon realized something was missing at her side. She patted herself down like a squirrel checking caches, worried the blade had tucked itself somewhere ridiculous.

Then she saw her right hand. Where the Hero’s sigil used to sit, the blue mark of the Holy Blade had shifted. It was now a long-sword silhouette, not quite the same as the Holy Blade’s shape. It was familiar, like a face seen in a dream.

Wasn’t that the blade rebuilt from the Shattered Ark?

Lilith flicked her right hand. A handful of light-motes slipped from her skin like fireflies from bark. They gathered in her palm and sketched a blade’s spine, pink-white radiance blooming like dawn through frost—then hardened into the sword she’d seen before she fainted.

“Oh—oh, that’s amazing!” Lilith’s delight popped like a soap bubble in sun. In that instant she knew the truth.

Her Shattered Ark had evolved. It had a new name now: Ancient Ark.

It felt sharper, the edge a whisper of snow. Even without parries, it swung with a true longsword’s weight and bite. When it charged on a block, the power spiked, surged, roared—like a tide slamming a cliff. Its current strength could finally stand beside the Holy Blade.

Beside? Maybe the Ancient Ark had already left the Holy Blade behind.

After all, the Holy Blade specialized against the Taint. Against anything else, it was just iron in a pretty story.

Maybe it would work on relics the gods left behind, too. Lilith wouldn’t get to try that now.

The best part: she no longer had to haul a sword around like a flagpole. A Broken Sword was easy to carry; but this new blade was almost as tall as she was. Lugging it everywhere would’ve been a headache in boots.

“I checked the archives again,” Elasha added, voice like paper and ash. “The Legendary Sword shows up often in Morris’s history. The Great Cataclysm shattered it. The shards fell across the world like stars. If you gather all the fragments, you might repair it and reveal its true power.”

“Oh? Where did the shards go?” Lilith asked, curious as a cat at a door.

“No idea. How would I know?” Elasha shook her head, silver strands like rain threads. “We Vampires stayed in Spuiset for millennia. I’ve never stepped beyond Morris. How am I supposed to tell you where each shard fell?”

“I only know Udis had one piece. Seems you already took it.” Her words pulled up the memory of that flame she’d won after beating the stone giant. So it was one of the shards.

“Well, it’s part of the Ancient Ark now. I can’t exactly hand it back.” Lilith scratched her cheek, stuck out her tongue, mischievous as a fox. “Besides, it helped drive back the Black Sun, right? Morris didn’t lose out.”

“It wasn’t some priceless heirloom anyway. If you want it, take it.” Elasha shrugged, light as a leaf. “Even if we gathered the rest, Demons or the Undead would probably steal them. Lots of work for nothing. But here’s the real issue. Besides the Legendary Sword, you took something else out of Morris. That one’s… trickier.”

“What did I take?” Lilith blinked. She didn’t remember pocketing anything else.

“Let her tell you.” Elasha stepped aside.

A shadow sprang from behind her like a bat from a bell tower. It hit too fast to react and wrapped Lilith’s head in a smothering hug.

“Waa!”

“Mama!”

“M—mama?!”

Lilith yanked the bundle free. In her arms was a toddler, two or three at most, cheeks dewy with drool, rubbing her little face against Lilith’s hand like a kitten.

She looked familiar.

Like…

“Stillborn?” Lilith remembered the infant floating in that blood pool, a candle in dark wind.

“That’s her.” Elasha’s smile was a helpless wince. “The Legendary Sword didn’t disperse the Black Sun. It gathered it. In the end, Stillborn swallowed the scattered energy. She also gulped down no small share of your power. That let this Divine Fragment awaken a mind—and she decided you’re her mother.”

“So…” Lilith swallowed. A bad idea blossomed like storm-clouds.

“You became a mom without labor. Congrats. It’s a Divine Fragment.” The Black Dragon girl’s voice slid in from the side, a knife wrapped in silk. Nidhogg’s quip struck true; Lilith sagged to the floor, arms braced, a crumpled pose like a toppled glyph, doubting her entire life.

“Why is it like this?” She was still a teen white dragon. Counting her past life, her head wasn’t much past her early twenties. She had never even dated. She’d only held hands with Typhon and Nidhogg. How was she suddenly a mother?

“Mama, hug!”

Stillborn didn’t care what Lilith thought. The tiny Divine Fragment followed instinct, nestling closer like a sprout seeking sun.

“Hug…” Lilith hugged her, speechless, and patted her small soft back. What else could she do? Stillborn had just found her first thoughts. Even if Lilith balked, she couldn’t hurt her. We’re here already, and she’s a child.

She rocked and hummed, a lullaby like wind in reeds. As Stillborn drifted, Lilith mouthed at Elasha, brows knitting: “What now?”

“What else? You’ll have to take her.” Elasha’s answer fell like a stone, shattering the last sliver of hope. “Her mind’s not mature. She holds most of the Black Sun’s power. If no one keeps an eye on her and she loses control, Spuiset’s borders will swell like floodwater.”

“She only clings to you. Morris is full of holes right now. She’ll have to leave with you.” Elasha looked apologetic, shadowed under lamplight. It was a heavy burden to drop into Lilith’s arms, a mountain in a basket. “I’m sorry to shove this on you.”

“It’s fine.” Lilith shook her head. The first shock had passed like thunder over hills. On second thought, this was a gift. She’d been wondering how to get Stillborn out of Morris. And then the child delivered herself.

When you’re sleepy, the pillow arrives. What luck.

“It’s just another kid to bring along. For traveling…” She almost said it wouldn’t matter much, then pictured herself: a twelve- or thirteen-year-old-looking girl, a ten-year-old trailing behind, and a two- or three-year-old in her arms.

Heavens. She could already see the patrol knights stopping her under a street lamp.

If Stillborn yelled “Mama” right then, no amount of explaining would save her.

“Okay, maybe it’ll affect my adventures a lot,” she said, voice a thin thread.

“Sorry,” Elasha murmured, turning away. She knew she bore much of the blame for how things had unfolded. She had no way to fix it. All she could do was apologize, again and again, empty-handed.

“I’ll think of something.” Lilith cradled Stillborn and sank into thought, like staring at ripples for a path. How could she make this look less… strange?

“I’ll travel with you,” Nidhogg said suddenly. She touched her own chest with a long finger, calm as a blade. “With me, you’re not a single underage mother with two younger girls. We’re a family of four on the road.”

“No. A family of four headed by a twelve-year-old-looking mom is weird no matter what.” Lilith batted that away on reflex. “Also, why a family of four? I’m only about five years older than Abaddon!”

“You’re dragons. Why care?” Nidhogg looked honestly puzzled, like asking why wind blows. “Even wyrmlings can take partners among our kind. No one will bat an eye.”

“What? I’ll bat an eye at myself!” Lilith nearly unraveled, but Stillborn was dozing on her chest. Afraid to wake the little fragment, she kept it to a hiss. “Are all dragons this pervy?”

“Dragons have great appetites,” Elasha added, as if reading from a field guide. “But most eggs don’t hatch, so they’re few. As long as you can spread your wings, you can love, in a dragon’s view.”

“I still can’t accept that.” Lilith drooped, reluctant as a willow. Yet the little white dragon turned Nidhogg’s plan over in her mind, pebble by pebble.

It wasn’t actually bad. Stillborn had to travel with her anyway. She was a shard left by the Nameless One. Lilith had set out to find those shards from the start.

Compared to a minor single mom with two kids, an age-gap dragon pair was easier for people to swallow.

The watch would haul the former in for a chat. For the latter, people would just shrug and say, “Dragons.”

It did sound… workable.

Lilith felt herself swayed, like a reed in a soft wind. But one doubt pricked.

“Would that count as me taking advantage of you?”

Lilith studied Nidhogg, mood a swirl of mischief and doubt. In plain terms, he was stunning, a beauty to topple realms even among two-legged folk. Pretending they were a couple—was she trading jade for gravel?

"It’s just a cover line for checkpoints," Nidhogg said, eyes flat as still water. "And if anyone’s losing out, it’s you."

Lilith shrugged, letting it roll off her like leaves in a breeze. If Nidhogg didn’t mind, she had no bones to pick.

Out of nowhere she’d picked up a wife, like finding gold in the dust—total win. Who could possibly take advantage of her? No way—stone-set, absolutely no way.

"So when do we head out?" Lilith asked, heartbeat steady as a drum. "Morris is a tangled skein; staying only jams the wheels."

Elasha said, "Don’t put it that way; you’re a benefactor to the Vampires." She bowed like a willow. "But Morris is spent, lanterns dim for hosting."

"If you stay a few more days, fine," she added, voice tired as dusk. "We just can’t treat you right. The next two months will be a storm."

"No worries. In a few days, once Abaddon’s recovered, we’ll set out. Don’t trouble yourself." Lilith shook her head, calm as moonlight.

"For these days, leave us be," she said, words like a spring wind. "Morris’s Vampires matter far more than we do."

Lilith lifted her gaze to Elasha’s office ceiling, cut open like a skylight. Noon lay above—blue and white silk with a blazing coin of sun. It was a vista Morris had parted from for two millennia, like a lover lost beyond the horizon.

"See? Vampires have the right to bathe in sunlight too." Lilith reached out, catching a spilled thread of light. "More than us, you should let everyone in Morris step outside," she said, words like a spring wind. "See the sun they’ve never seen. See blue sky, white cloud. See the world."

"A thousand years of hardship has ended," Lilith said, smile cupped like a crescent. "The Vampires dodged premature doom; it’s time to embrace new life." She looked at Elasha with a gentleness like spring water.

The Vampires had hidden in night for too long—far too long. So long the sun’s blaze became a forgotten story. So long they only dared to curl inside the dark like moths. Night is gentle, yes. But now they should see what shines under the sun.