The night before departure was quiet, almost sacred.
Draven and Seraphina lay tangled in the soft sheets of their chambers, the lantern light turned low. Sero was curled up at the foot of the bed, breathing softly in sleep. The air smelled of jasmine and warm skin.
They had just finished making love — slow, deep, and full of everything they couldn't say with words. Seraphina's head rested on Draven's chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles over his heart. His arm was wrapped around her protectively, hand resting on the small of her back.
For a long time, neither spoke. They simply breathed together, listening to each other's heartbeat.
Seraphina broke the silence first, her voice soft and vulnerable.
"I'm scared, Draven."
He tightened his hold on her. "I know."
"Not just for me. For you. For our baby. Nefel… they say no one comes back from there."
Draven kissed the top of her head. "I will come back. I have too much to live for now. You. Our child. This life we're building."
She lifted her head to look at him, emerald eyes glistening. "Promise me you'll be careful. No unnecessary risks. Come back to us whole."
"I promise," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll write whenever I can. And when I return, I'll never leave your side again. We'll raise our baby together. We'll grow old together. No more quests. No more shadows."
Seraphina smiled through her tears and kissed him gently. "I'll hold you to that, my king."
They stayed like that for hours — talking in whispers, sharing small dreams, laughing quietly about how Sero had tried to steal Seraphina's hairpin earlier that evening. Lovers' talk. The kind that made the coming separation feel a little less heavy.
Eventually, sleep claimed them both, wrapped in each other's arms.
Morning came too soon.
The sky was still pale when Draven woke. Seraphina was already awake, watching him with quiet sadness. Sero sat on the windowsill, tail swishing, sensing the tension in the air.
They bathed together one last time — slow, tender, hands gliding over skin as if memorizing every inch. No words were needed. Just touch. Just presence.
After bathing, they dressed. Draven in practical travelling clothes — dark tunic, sturdy cloak, boots made for long roads. Seraphina wore a simple but elegant gown, her hand resting protectively over her belly.
They ate a quiet breakfast together — just the two of them and Sero, who kept trying to steal berries from Seraphina's plate.
When the time came, they walked hand-in-hand to the palace gates.
Thorne, Elowen, and Sylara were already waiting with the horses. Packs were secured. The small group looked ready — determined, but solemn.
Seraphina had come to see them off.
She stood there in the early morning light, Sero perched on her shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her back was straight.
Draven stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. They held each other tightly — a long, desperate embrace. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.
"I love you," he whispered fiercely. "More than anything."
"I love you too," she replied, voice breaking. "Come back to me. To us."
They kissed — deep, lingering, full of every unsaid word.
When they finally pulled apart, Sero hopped from Seraphina's shoulder onto Draven's. The little dragon nuzzled against his neck, chirping sadly, then licked his cheek as if saying goodbye. Draven scratched behind his horns one last time.
"Take care of her for me, little one," he murmured.
Sero trilled softly and flew back to Seraphina's shoulder.
Draven mounted his horse. Thorne, Elowen, and Sylara did the same.
Seraphina stood at the gate, one hand on her belly, the other raised in farewell. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she smiled — brave, strong, beautiful.
Draven looked at her one final time, committing every detail to memory.
Then he turned his horse toward the road.
As the small group rode away from the palace gates, the distance between them and Seraphina began to grow. The castle walls slowly receded behind them.
Draven felt the weight of every step.
In the quiet of the morning road, these words rose in his heart like a silent vow:
"Distance Will Grow, But Never Love"
Beneath the quiet weight of a silver night,
A promise lingers, soft yet bright.
Draven walks a distant road unknown,
Yet his heart remains where love has grown.
A king he is, with a restless soul,
Chasing a fate he cannot control.
But behind those gates of stone so wide,
Lives his world—his queen, his pride.
Seraphina stands with a fragile grace,
Tears unspoken upon her face.
Yet her voice is calm, her spirit strong,
"For us, my love… you must go on."
Within her beats a life anew,
A gentle echo, a love so true.
A child who carries his father's flame,
Even before it knows his name.
The castle walls may hold her near,
But every breath still draws him here.
In every wind, in skies above,
She whispers softly, wrapped in love.
Distance may stretch the threads of time,
Through silent pain and trials they climb.
Yet love is fire, it does not fade,
It only grows in the vows they made.
No fate, no war, no endless sea,
Can break what's meant to always be.
For every step he takes away,
His love returns to her each day.
So walk, dear Draven, face your quest,
For in her heart, you forever rest.
And when you return, you will find anew,
A world that waited… just for you.
The palace disappeared behind a bend in the road.
Draven looked forward — toward the long path that would eventually lead to Nefel, the End of the World.
The journey had begun.
The chapter ends here — on the open road, Draven and his small group riding away from everything they loved, the poem echoing in the wind, the promise of return hanging in the air like a fragile hope.
To be continued…