My third day at the Chernov estate began with a nightmare.

  I was standing in the middle of an endless field. The sky was an obsidian void, devoid of stars. The ground beneath my feet was nothing but grey ash.

  And in the center of that field stood a cradle.

  It was woven from shadows and moonlight. Strange. Terrifying. Yet I couldn't tear my eyes away.

  I drew closer, the ash crunching softly beneath my tread.

  Inside the cradle lay a child. My child.

  But he wasn't crying. He was watching me.

  His eyes were haunting. One was grey, like Demyan’s. The other was violet, like Adrian’s.

  *No. It must be impossible.*

  “I am the bridge,” the child said. Not with a voice, but as an echo within my mind. “I am the connection. I am the key.”

  The darkness surrounding the cradle stirred. Shadows reached for him—tenderly, hungrily.

  They coiled around his tiny body, cloaking him like a blanket.

  “Do not fear, Mother,” he whispered. “They will protect me. They are my family.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to snatch him up and run.

  But my legs were rooted to the spot.

  And then, the child’s violet eye flared with a brilliant, blinding light.

  And I woke up.

  I bolted upright in bed, my heart hammering like a cornered bird. Sweat drenched my back.

  A dream. Just a dream.

  But the child’s voice still hummed in my ears. *“I am the bridge.”*

  Nausea hit me in a violent wave.

  I scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Sick. Again.

  Three days. Only three days had passed since I crossed the threshold of the Obsidian Palace. Three days that had changed everything.

  In the Celestial Citadel, I had been a shadow. Convenient. Invisible. I walked through bright corridors and prepared breakfasts that Demyan ate without ever looking at me. I smiled at guests who looked right through me. I was furniture. A piece of the decor.

  Here... here, everything was different.

  Adrian looks at me. He *sees* me. Those violet eyes track my every move, seeing in me a riddle he is determined to solve. When he is near, the air grows heavy, weighted with intent. Shadow magic coils around me—cold, curious, and possessive.

  And my magic... it answers. It reaches for him. There is an invisible thread between us that tightens whenever we are in the same room.

  I don't understand it. I don't understand him. And I don't understand myself. Not one bit.

  The pregnancy was a relentless weight.

  I washed my face with cold water and stared at my reflection. Pale. Dark circles under my eyes. Chapped lips.

  I looked terrible.

  *Hold on. Just a little longer. Until I find somewhere else.*

  But where? Where could I go with a baby?

  I dressed in my now-familiar grey gown and went down for breakfast.

  Marta was in the dining room, sipping tea and watching me.

  “Good morning, Miss Belskaya,” she nodded. “You look unwell.”

  “I didn't sleep well.”

  “You’ve barely eaten these past three days.”

  I met her gaze. She knew. I could see the truth in her eyes.

  “I’m just tired.”

  Marta was silent, then set her cup down.

  “Miss Belskaya, if you are ill—say so. The Prince does not care for his people hiding their problems.”

  *His people. I was his.*

  “I'm fine,” I lied.

  Marta didn't reply. She just watched.

  I poured myself tea and bit into a piece of bread. My stomach cramped, but I forced myself to swallow.

  “I should go,” I said, standing.

  “The Prince is waiting for you in his study.”

  I nodded and left.

  ***

  Adrian stood by the window, his back to me. A black suit. Hands clasped behind him.

  “You are five minutes late,” he said, not turning.

  My feet felt like lead.

  “I’m sorry. I...”

  “Sit. Work.”

  I went to my desk and began to sort the documents.

  An hour passed. Then another. I worked in silence. Adrian was silent, too.

  But I could feel his gaze. Heavy. Piercing.

  He was watching me.

  And then the world tilted. Sharply. Painfully.

  I clamped my hand over my mouth.

  *No. Not now.*

  “Anya.”

  Adrian’s voice was cool.

  I looked up. He was watching me, his violet eyes glowing.

  “You are pale.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I clenched my fists under the desk.

  “Just tired.”

  He stood up. He walked over and stopped beside my desk.

  “For three days, you have looked ill. For three days, you have refused food. For three days, you have bolted for the washroom.”

  Air trapped in my throat.

  “I...”

  “Marta told me,” he interrupted. “You are sick every morning.”

  *Traitor.*

  “It’s just my stomach,” I tried to lie. “I ate something that didn't agree with me.”

  Adrian leaned down, his face only inches from mine.

  “Don't lie to me, Anya.”

  His voice was soft. Dangerous.

  I looked away.

  “I have called a healer,” he said, straightening up. “He will examine you.”

  Panic flared.

  “That isn't necessary!” I stood up quickly. “I’m fine!”

  “Sit.”

  “Adrian, please...”

  “Sit,” he repeated. A command.

  I sat. My hands were shaking.

  He knows. He’ll find out. He’ll throw me out.

  The door opened. A man in his forties entered. Silver hair. Glasses. A black robe bearing the Chernov clan symbol.

  A healer.

  “Prince,” he bowed to Adrian. “You summoned me?”

  “Examine her,” Adrian nodded toward me. “Check everything. Rule out internal tissue necrosis. She is concealing her condition.”

  The healer approached me and looked into my eyes.

  “Miss, if you please.”

  He reached out. I didn't move.

  “Miss,” he repeated softly. “I won't hurt you.”

  I looked at Adrian. He stood by the window, watching me.

  I had no choice.

  I offered my hand.

  The healer took it and closed his eyes. Magic flowed into my veins—warm, soft, and inquisitive.

  I felt it sliding through my body. Checking. Searching. It was a strange sensation—someone else's magic inside me. Not painful, but... intimate. A foreign presence in my very thoughts.

  His magic reached my womb. It lingered there. I felt a flush of warmth, then a flare of recognition.

  *He knows.*

  The healer flinched. His fingers tightened on my hand.

  “Strange...”

  “What?” I gasped. “What is it?!”

  “You are pregnant. The child is healthy. The fetus is thrumming with energy. Almost too healthy for your current state.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. There was fear in his gaze.

  “His aura... it resonates. Strongly. This isn't an ordinary human spark, Miss Belskaya.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Breath caught in my throat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The father... was he a mage? A powerful one?”

  Demyan. A weak Air mage. A pathetic man who wanted to kill his own son.

  “Demyan Voronov. But he... he demanded an abortion.”

  The healer frowned.

  “Voronov?” the healer’s eyes widened. He went rigid. “The Heir of the Sky Clan?”

  I nodded.

  “That... explains much,” he whispered. “Here... here is a melding of two primal forces. Light and Dark. The child is a hybrid. His aura resonates because it is unique. It is drawing upon your life force because it needs immense energy to grow.”

  He pulled his hand back.

  “I will give you a fortifying potion. But you need more energy. Much more. Otherwise, the child will simply drink you dry.”

  *Drink me dry.*

  I placed a hand on my stomach. My little vampire. My protector.

  “I understand.”

  The healer looked at me, then at Adrian.

  “Prince,” he said quietly. “Miss Belskaya isn't ill.”

  Adrian turned.

  “What?”

  “She is pregnant. Two months.” The healer frowned, not letting go of my hand. “But her condition is critical. Dehydration, exhaustion of magical reserves. She has barely eaten these last three days?”

  Adrian looked at me, his eyes narrowing.

  “Almost nothing,” he confirmed coldly.

  “That is dangerous,” the healer shook his head. “For both her and the fetus. I need to infuse her with energy immediately, or she will collapse right here.”

  He didn't wait for permission. His other hand settled on my forehead. Magic surged in a wave—warm, thick, and saturated.

  I flinched. My body greedily absorbed the power, like parched earth drinking rain. The dizziness receded. The nausea faded. The trembling in my hands stopped.

  “Better,” the healer said, removing his hands. “But this won't last long. She needs real food. Broth, soft bread, herbal tea. Every two hours. And complete rest.”

  Silence. Long. Heavy.

  I didn't breathe.

  Adrian watched me, his face a mask of stone. His eyes were like violet ice.

  “Leave us,” he told the healer.

  “But, Prince...”

  “Leave.”

  The healer bowed and exited. The door clicked shut.

  We were alone.

  Adrian didn't move. He just stared.

  “I thought as much,” he said at last. His voice was glacial. “Pregnant. By Voronov.”

  I nodded. I had no words.

  “How long were you planning to hide this?”

  “I... I was afraid,” I whispered. “You would have thrown me out. Like he did.”

  His eyes flared violet. Shadow magic swirled in the air.

  “You think I am like him?”

  “I don't know!” I snapped, my composure breaking. “I don't know you! You gave me a job, but I don't know why! I’m a Null with another man’s child! Who would want me?!”

  Silence. Heavy and agonizing.

  Adrian stepped closer. He stopped just a pace away.

  “You will stay here,” he said softly. “Under my protection. You and the child.”

  I stared at him.

  “What?”

  “I am not a Voronov,” he added. “I do not abandon those under my protection.”

  “But why? Why do you care?”

  He didn't answer. He simply turned and walked out.

  The door slammed shut.

  I sat there, gripping the edge of the desk.

  *He knows. He knows, and he... he didn't throw me out?*

  Why?

  I tried to grasp his logic. Adrian Chernov—the most dangerous mage in Eridia. Head of the Shadow Clan. A man who could kill with a glance. Why would he keep a pregnant Null carrying another man’s child?

  My magic. He had said it eased his pain. But pregnancy... was a complication. A problem. A weakness.

  Why hadn't he cast me out?

  I remembered his words. *“I am not a Voronov. I do not abandon those under my protection.”*

  *Under his protection.* Me. And the baby.

  But why? He could have hired any other woman. A mage. Someone strong. Someone without the baggage of another man’s child.

  Yet he chose me.

  Why?

  ***

  The rest of the day passed in a haze.

  I sat at the desk, staring at documents. I didn't read them. I just stared.

  Adrian didn't return.

  That evening, a maid arrived.

  “Miss Belskaya, dinner is ready.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “The Prince has ordered me to tell you: you must eat. For two.”

  I looked up.

  “He said that?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Yes, miss. And one more thing... the healer will be coming every day. To check on you.”

  I was silent, not knowing what to say.

  The maid set a tray on the desk and left.

  I looked at the plate. Broth. Bread. An apple.

  Adrian had ordered them to feed me. As if I... as if I mattered.

  The door opened. Marta entered, carrying another tray with tea and biscuits.

  “Miss Belskaya,” she said softly. “The Prince has instructed me to look after you. To ensure you eat. To ensure you rest.”

  I looked at her.

  “Why? Why is he doing this?”

  Marta set the tray down and sat across from me.

  “Because the Prince is not the man they say he is,” she poured me some tea. “People see the Shadows. They see the magic. They see the power. But they don't see the man.”

  I watched her.

  “And you... you do?”

  “I have worked here for twenty years,” Marta smiled. “I saw him grow up. I saw him suffer. I saw him defend his people. The Prince is a good man. Just a very lonely one.”

  *Lonely.* Adrian Chernov... lonely.

  I couldn't even imagine it.

  “Eat, Miss Belskaya,” Marta pushed the plate toward me. “You need your strength. And so does the little one.”

  I picked up a spoon and began to eat.

  I was silent.

  “Come, miss. Dinner is getting cold.”

  I stood and followed her.

  ***

  The dining room was empty. Adrian was nowhere to be seen.

  But the table was set. Two plates. Two glasses. Candles burned with a soft, steady glow.

  I paused on the threshold.

  “Come in,” Adrian’s voice commanded.

  He stepped out of the shadows by the window. A black shirt. Sleeves rolled up. His hair was slightly mussed.

  He looked... tired. Shadows haunted his eyes. His lips were a tight line.

  Pain. He was in pain.

  I entered and sat at the table.

  Adrian sat opposite me. He looked at me.

  “Did you eat?”

  “Yes.”

  "Good."

  Marta served the meal. A roast. Meat. Vegetables. Gravy.

  I picked up my fork and began to eat.

  Adrian watched me, not even touching his own plate.

  “You're not eating,” I said.

  "I'm not hungry."

  I looked at him. At his pale face. At his clenched fists.

  “You're in pain,” I said softly.

  He didn't answer. He just watched.

  I stood up. I walked over to him and stood by his side.

  “Marta said... when I’m near, it’s easier for you.”

  Adrian looked up at me. His violet eyes glowed in the twilight.

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “It is.”

  I reached out. I touched his shoulder.

  And then it happened.

  Warmth flared in my chest. It surged through my veins and flowed into him.

  Adrian let out a long, deep breath of relief.

  His shoulders relaxed. His fists unclenched.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  I didn't pull my hand away. I just stood there, feeling my magic flowing into him. Feeling the pain recede.

  Feeling him breathe easier.

  ***

  Lunch. Marta served the food and looked at me.

  “The Prince has gone away on business,” she said. “He will return tomorrow.”

  I nodded.

  “Miss Belskaya,” Marta sat opposite me. She watched me.

  “Miss Belskaya, I knew you were pregnant. From the first day.”

  I looked up.

  “What?”

  “I knew,” she shrugged. “Twenty years of working with women teaches you a lot. Morning nausea. Fatigue. Pallor. I saw the signs.”

  “Why didn't you say anything?”

  “It wasn't my business,” Marta poured herself some tea. “But the Prince noticed. He always notices. Especially when it comes to you.”

  I was silent.

  “He’s watching you, Miss Belskaya,” Marta looked me in the eyes. “I have never seen him look at anyone like that. As if you were the only thing that mattered.”

  My heart beat faster.

  “It’s... it’s just magic. I ease his pain.”

  “Perhaps,” Marta smiled. “And perhaps it’s more than magic. The Prince has been alone for many years. He never let anyone close. But you... he let you in.”

  I didn't know what to say.

  I was silent.

  “He is a good man,” Marta added. “Cruel, perhaps. Cold. But just. If he says he will protect you, he will.”

  “Why is he doing it?”

  Marta watched me for a long moment.

  “I don't know,” she admitted. “But the Prince always has his reasons.”

  She stood and left.

  I was alone.

  I ate slowly. I forced myself to finish. For two.

  My baby. My child.

  Adrian had promised protection. But what did he want in return?

  No one does anything for nothing. Especially not in the world of mages.

  What was he planning?

  ***

  I didn't sleep that night.

  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

  Adrian knew about the pregnancy. And he hadn't thrown me out.

  More than that—he had promised protection. For me and the child.

  Why?

  He doesn't need me. I’m a Null. Voronov’s ex-wife. A burden.

  But he said, “You interest me.”

  My magic. The white light. The Primal Spark.

  He wants to study me. To understand what I am.

  I am his experiment.

  Or am I?

  I remembered his words: “I do not abandon those under my protection.”

  He said it twice. Like a vow.

  Mages do not give vows lightly.

  What was he planning?

  I placed a hand on my stomach.

  My child. Demyan’s child.

  Adrian had promised to protect him. Why?

  There was no answer.

  But I knew one thing: I had no choice.

  I would stay here. Under his protection. Under his control.

  Because I had nowhere else to go.

  ***

  The fourth morning began differently.

  I woke at seven. No nausea.

  I washed, dressed, and went down for breakfast.

  Adrian was in the dining room.

  My fingers clenched the door handle.

  He looked up and saw me.

  "Sit."

  I sat across from him.

  Marta poured tea and left.

  We were alone. Silence reigned.

  Adrian ate in silence. So did I.

  “The healer will come after breakfast,” he said at last. “He will prescribe vitamins. A diet. A routine.”

  I nodded.

  “You will continue working,” he added. “But no more than six hours a day. No stress.”

  "Understood."

  He looked at me.

  “Voronov’s child,” he said. “The heir to the Voronov clan. That is... a complication.”

  I clenched my fists under the table.

  "I know."

  “Demyan will demand his return.”

  “He demanded an abortion,” I managed to say. “He doesn't want a child from a Null.”

  Adrian smirked. A cold, hard expression.

  “He will change his mind. Once he learns the child is under *my* protection.”

  My breath hitched.

  "What?"

  “Demyan won't forgive me for this,” Adrian leaned back. “I have taken his ex-wife. His child. It is... a challenge.”

  “You want a war with the Voronov clan?”

  His eyes flared violet.

  "I do not fear the Voronovs."

  Silence.

  I watched him, trying to understand.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked softly. “Why do you want me? Why do you want this child?”

  Adrian stood up. He walked over and stopped beside my chair.

  “Because your place is here,” he said quietly. “From the moment I saw your magic. From the moment you walked through my gates. I felt it. And no one takes what is under my protection.”

  His hand settled on my shoulder. Cold. Heavy.

  Darkness brushed my skin. Cold and thick. My magic hummed in response—a low thrum.

  I shivered.

  “Not even Voronov,” he added. “Even if he comes with an army.”

  He removed his hand and walked out of the dining room.

  I remained there, gripping the edge of the table.

  *You are mine.*

  What did that mean?

  I didn't know.

  But I felt it: my life had changed forever.

  ***

  The healer arrived an hour later.

  The same man. Silver hair. Glasses. Black robe.

  “Miss Belskaya,” he bowed. “Our last meeting was a bit rushed; we weren't introduced. I am Viktor Sergeyevich Larin. Head healer of the Chernov Clan.”

  I nodded.

  "Anya."

  “Allow me to examine you more thoroughly,” he sat in the chair next to me. “The Prince has ordered me to monitor your condition.”

  I offered my hand.

  He took it. Magic flowed into my veins. Warm. Soft. Investigative.

  I closed my eyes. I felt it sliding through me. Checking my heart. My lungs. My stomach.

  And the baby.

  “The pregnancy is progressing normally,” Viktor Sergeyevich said. “Two months and one week. The fetus is healthy. Steady heartbeat.”

  I opened my eyes.

  "Is that... good?"

  He smiled.

  “Very good. But you need to rest more. Less stress. Eat well.”

  “I'm trying.”

  “The nausea will pass in a month,” he added. “It's normal for the first trimester. Drink more water. Eat small portions.”

  He took a small vial of green liquid from his bag.

  “This is a vitamin elixir. Three drops, morning and evening. It will help with the nausea and strengthen the child.”

  I took the vial.

  "Thank you."

  Viktor Sergeyevich stood.

  “I will come every three days. To check on you. If anything happens—call me through the Sphere. The Prince has given me orders: you are under his personal protection.”

  *Personal protection...*

  The healer left.

  I was alone.

  I looked at the vial in my hand. The green liquid glowed with a faint magical light.

  Vitamins. For the baby.

  Adrian was caring for the child. Demyan’s child.

  Why? It was all so opaque and confusing.

  ***

  That evening, I was working in the study.

  Adrian sat at his desk, reading documents. He was silent.

  I sorted the mail, trying to focus. But my thoughts were scattered.

  “Anya.”

  I looked up.

  Adrian was watching me.

  “Tomorrow we will have a guest,” he said. “A clan advisor. He must not know about your pregnancy.”

  My back stiffened.

  "Why?"

  “Because it would give Voronov a pretext for war,” he leaned back. “As long as no one knows you are here, we are safe.”

  “But Marta knows. The healer knows.”

  “They won't speak. They are my people.”

  I was silent.

  “You will act as an ordinary secretary,” Adrian continued. “No hints. No weakness. Understood?”

  "Understood."

  He nodded and returned to his papers.

  I watched him, trying to understand.

  He was protecting me. But hiding me from everyone.

  Why?

  What was he planning?

  “Adrian,” I called softly.

  He looked up.

  "What?"

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you want me? Why this child?”

  Silence. Long.

  Adrian stood and walked to the window. He looked out at the night garden.

  “You ask why I took Voronov’s ex-wife?” he said, without turning. “Why I promised protection to my enemy’s child?”

  I lived for this moment.

  "Yes."

  He turned. Looked at me. His violet eyes burned in the gloom.

  “Because Voronov threw you away like trash,” he said softly. “Because he didn't see your value. Because he’s a fool.”

  A cold shiver ran down my spine.

  "And you... you do?"

  He stepped closer.

  “I see a woman with a vanishingly rare gift. A woman everyone dismissed as a Null. A woman whose magic could shift the balance of power in Eridia.”

  Another step.

  “I see power, Anya. Immense. Uncharted. Dangerous.”

  He stopped just a step away from me.

  “And I want that power. I want you.”

  His hand rose. His fingers brushed my cheek. Cold. Firm.

  The air grew heavy. Hot. Magic flowed over my skin, leaving a trailing burn.

  I shivered.

  “You are mine, Anya,” he whispered. “From the moment I saw your light. From the moment you walked through my gates. You are mine. And I will not give you up to anyone. Not even Voronov.”

  His lips were mere inches from mine.

  “Even if he comes with an army.”

  I didn't breathe.

  His gaze dropped to my lips. It lingered. Then he pulled away. He withdrew his hand.

  “Go to sleep,” he said coldly. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  I stood up. My legs were shaking.

  "Goodnight."

  I left the study.

  In the corridor, I leaned against the wall. My breath was shallow and fast. My heart hammered.

  What was that?

  He had almost kissed me.

  Why?

  I placed a hand on my cheek. Where he had touched me, my skin still tingled.

  Resonance. Magic. A connection.

  What did it mean?

  I didn't know.

  But I felt it: something had changed. Between us.

  Forever.

  ***

  I lay in bed, listening to the silence of the Obsidian Palace. My third day had ended. The third day of my new life.

  Adrian knew about the child. And he... he hadn't cast me out. On the contrary. He had ordered the healer to come every day. Ordered Marta to feed me. To care for me.

  Why?

  I still didn't understand. But something inside me whispered: this wasn't just magic. This wasn't just about pain relief.

  It was... something more.

  I pressed a hand to my stomach. My baby. Under the protection of the Chernov Clan. Under the protection of Adrian.

  And I... I felt safe. For the first time in a very long time.

  I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

  Tomorrow would be a new day. And new trials.

  But I would be ready. Now I know that my magic isn't a curse. It is a weapon. And I will learn to use it. To protect my son. At any cost.