Lukas closed the heavy wooden door behind him, the last echoes of Archmage Myrren's words still heavy in his mind. He had barely taken a step into the corridor when he froze.

Standing before him, as though she had been waiting all along, was Rosalia Elarion. The princess of Easthaven, the girl—now grown—he had sworn to protect, stood tall and unflinching, her eyes locked directly onto his. The sharpness of her gaze cut deep and Lukas flinched, realizing in that instant that he did not need to ask how much she had heard of that conversation.

The truth was already plain upon her face.

Rosalia shook her head slowly, strands of her fiery red hair brushing her shoulders as frustration welled within her. She was trembling not with fear, but with anger born of hurt. "Why didn't you tell us?" she demanded, her voice low but edged with steel. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Lukas breathed out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders heavy beneath an invisible weight. She was right. He knew she was right. Perhaps he should have told them long ago the price he had paid to defeat the Hero from Another World was a great one. Maybe he should have told them that the wounds he bore were not just of flesh, but of something deeper, gnawing away at his body and soul.

Instead, he had chosen silence.

Not because Lukas wished to deceive them, but because he could not force the words past his lips. Some burdens were meant to be carried alone and he had thought this was one of them. He turned his eyes from her, unable to withstand the sharp pain in her expression, but in that moment he felt her presence shift.

Without words, her mind touched his, a familiar warmth pressing gently against his consciousness.

Their thoughts brushed together, unguarded and unhidden.

In that instant, she understood. She saw what he had not spoken. She knew why he had kept silent—because he had not known if there was any path forward. Because he had not known if there was a cure, or even a faint hope of salvation. Until Myrren's words, there had been only uncertainty, and to give voice to his weakness would have been to make it real, to make it…final.

Now there was a glimmer of possibility.

Khaitish.

The distant Kingdom of the Beastkin, where an answer, perhaps even a cure, awaited him.

But to go now was to leave everything behind.

"Go," Rosalia whispered softly, her tone losing its edge. Her eyes lingered on him, her voice softening as she spoke to him now. "You must go."

But how could he?

How could he abandon Easthaven when the fires of war still burned bright across its fields? How could he walk away from Rosalia herself—the girl who he had sworn to protect? His chest tightened at the thought of leaving her, of stepping into a world where he could not shield her from the dangers that circled closer with every passing day.

Rosalia must have heard every single thought because suddenly she smiled.

It was not a smile of dismissal, nor of mockery, but one that brimmed with warmth and a bittersweet acceptance.

A small laugh slipped from her lips, light and warm amidst the shadow of war.

"Can I tell you something, Lukas?" Rosalia asked, tilting her head, her eyes alight with a familiar glow that spoke of affection deeper than words.

Lukas met her gaze again, and this time he did not look away.

Slowly, he nodded, knowing that whatever she spoke next would carve itself into his heart.

"I was awake."

For a heartbeat, Lukas did not understand. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his scarred face, until the truth unfolded in his mind. Then he understood what she was telling him. Lukas felt his breath catch in his chest, his throat tightening as though unseen fingers closed around it.

"I was awake when you swore that oath to my grandfather," Rosalia continued, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. "And you have never broken it since. You have protected me as if I were your own." Her eyes, fierce only moments ago, shimmered now with unshed tears. The tears of a woman who had carried so much and lost even more, yet still found love and strength in those around her.

"I love you for all that you have done for me, Lukas."

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The words nearly broke him.

Lukas felt his vision blur, not with sorrow but with the weight of everything that had led them here. His heart swelled and a lump formed deep in his throat, heavy and unyielding.

"You were there for me when I needed it most," she murmured, her voice soft but unwavering, each syllable ringing with truth. "You were the first friend I ever had. I would not be who I am today without you, Lukas."

Memories stirred, vivid and unrelenting.

Lukas saw the long marble halls of the royal palace, lit only by moonlight, as two shadows snuck past guards with muffled laughter. He remembered Rosalia's small hand in his, warm and trusting, as they tiptoed into the kitchens to steal pastries and sugared fruit when the night was at its quietest. He remembered her innocent delight, the sparkle in her eyes, the way her laughter had chased away the cold in his heart.

"You taught me so much," she whispered, voice trembling as though the truth itself might shatter her. "Not just about magic, but about myself. About who I want to be and what I want to do in this life of mine. I want you to remember that. Now and for the rest of our days."

Lukas felt his knees weaken, and without thought, he lowered himself before her.

He knelt, not as a King nor as a Lord, but simply as someone who had devoted his life to something far greater than himself.

Rosalia leaned forward until her forehead pressed gently against his.

The contact was simple, yet it carried a depth of intimacy and trust that neither words nor gestures could truly capture.

Lukas closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath, savoring the warmth of the moment even as his heart threatened to break under its weight.

"You, Lukas Drakos," she whispered, her breath brushing against his skin, "Dragon Lord of the Seas, and now King of the Dragons, once swore upon the River Styx that you would watch over and protect me, the Princess of Easthaven, until the end of my days…" Her voice faltered for only a heartbeat before growing steady again. "Or until I no longer desire your protection."

The words echoed in the silent corridor, ancient and binding, a vow recited not as a memory but as a living bond between them.

Rosalia had heard them then and she spoke them now, as if to remind him that his oath was not forgotten.

Lukas opened his eyes and in Rosalia's tear-bright gaze he saw the reflection of years gone by—the girl he had once protected, the woman she had become, and the bond between them that no war, no curse, and no distance could sever. He looked into Rosalia's eyes, and what he saw there nearly unraveled him. Tears glistened in the light, each one falling with the weight of years shared between them.

"You have fulfilled your oath, Lukas Drakos," she said, her voice breaking with emotion yet steady in its conviction. "I, Rosalia Elarion, no longer desire your protection. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

The words struck him harder than any blow he had ever taken in battle. He tried to answer, tried to form even a single word in reply, but the sound caught in his throat. Instead, a ragged sob tore through him, raw and unrestrained, the kind he had never allowed anyone to hear.

Before he could recover, Rosalia threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him with a ferocity that only deepened the ache in his chest.

For Lukas, the moment collapsed into memory.

It had felt like it was just yesterday that Rosalia had been a little girl, innocent and bright, running through the halls of the palace with laughter spilling from her lips. He could see her small hands reaching up to him, her eyes wide with wonder the first time she had sat astride his dragon form and soared across the starlit sky. He remembered her delight at the rush of wind, her fearless joy as she pressed her cheek against his scales.

Happiness and sorrow warred within him.

Pride swelled in his chest, fierce and unyielding, for the woman she had become: strong in her convictions, beautiful in her spirit and unafraid to face the cruelties of the world. She had endured much and grown into a leader who could inspire others, her heart still unbroken by all she had seen. Yet sadness followed close behind, for that little girl—the one who had once looked at him as if he were both guardian and friend—would never come again.

Time had carried her forward, and Lukas was left clutching only the memories.

And yet…those memories were enough. They were more than enough. They would always be enough.

Rosalia had been so many things to him. A princess and a student, a responsibility and the center of an oath he had sworn. But above all, she had been the daughter he never thought he would have. The bond between them had never been forged by blood, but by something stronger—trust, devotion, and love born of shared struggle.

She had needed a father, and he had needed someone to remind him of who he could still be.

Together, they had filled the hollow spaces in each other's lives.

Because of her, Lukas had remembered what it meant to love without restraint.

Because of her, the Dragon Lord who once saw only duty and war had learned to cherish, to hope, and to dream again.

He had been the father she needed, yes—but in turn, Rosalia had given him the gift of being that father, a father he never got to have in a past life.

For that, no words of gratitude could ever suffice.

She no longer needed his protection, and he knew it to be true. Rosalia Elarion had become strong enough to fight her own battles, to stand tall in the storms of fate. And though she released him from his vow, though she declared that she no longer desired his shield, their bond was not undone.

They would always be bound, not by oaths nor by blood, but by love.

Lukas closed his eyes, letting the tears fall freely now. He already had everything he had ever wanted in this second life of his. People he could call his own and amongst them a daughter who had never been his by name, yet was his in every way that mattered.

She was Rosalia, his Miracle Girl, now and for the rest of their days.

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