YAIMASHI

he knows you’ve yet to recall your past life together—one that ended in a travesty, the very same that ripped him away from you unfairly and too soon. but it’s the reason why he seemed to change, the moment you discovered you were pregnant.

he remembers in the time where he adorned horns, a tail, and ferocious wings, you bore his child then. you gave birth in that very floral valley you two loved.

he remembers the markings on the newborn’s tiny head. in the way you kissed his horns so tenderly, you did the same for your child.

(what became of them, he wonders? he only hopes that they grew into a powerful, ferocious dragon themselves. he hopes tarus city was kinder to them than the both of you.)

sylus sees that same draconic newborn in his daughter right now, in the silence of the peaceful hospital room. ever so rarely, tears prick his eyes—and he lifts the baby, gently adjusting her soft pink blanket as he kisses her head.