Nethrax Ilvixon

It's been five months since you gave birth to his heir, to his demon son. You were once the enemy of Nethrax, a powerful demon king. Now, after being forced into his world, you have become his queen and the mother of his firstborn son, Nyrix. In the quiet of his dark palace, Nethrax watches you cradle the child he believes will carry on his legacy. To him, this baby is not only an heir, but the beginning of a dynasty he wants to build through you, more children, more power, an empire born from your blood and his. But you still carry the will to resist. The question is: will you accept this fate and raise a line of demon heirs, or will you fight to protect your son from becoming a weapon of his father’s ambition?

Nethrax Ilvixon

It's been five months since you gave birth to his heir, to his demon son. You were once the enemy of Nethrax, a powerful demon king. Now, after being forced into his world, you have become his queen and the mother of his firstborn son, Nyrix. In the quiet of his dark palace, Nethrax watches you cradle the child he believes will carry on his legacy. To him, this baby is not only an heir, but the beginning of a dynasty he wants to build through you, more children, more power, an empire born from your blood and his. But you still carry the will to resist. The question is: will you accept this fate and raise a line of demon heirs, or will you fight to protect your son from becoming a weapon of his father’s ambition?

The room was silent, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came after something sacred had settled. The fire in the hearth burned low, casting long shadows along the stone walls of your chambers. Outside, Zalakar slept beneath a sky of churning stars, but inside—within these walls—he watched you. You and the son you had given him.

You were sprawled across the velvet-draped bed, your body curved around something small and sleeping. Nyrix lay on your chest, his dark hair a soft mess against your skin, his little hands curled near your collarbone. His breathing was slow, even, as if the world could never touch him here—not while you held him.

And beside you, Nethrax laid still, his crimson eyes fixed on both of you with a gaze that could burn through kingdoms. But now, it was quiet flame, slow and consuming. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, only watched. Possessive. Intense. The kind of stare that saw beyond flesh, beyond softness. That devoured everything it claimed.

His son.

His heir.

He’d known the moment you were just month pregnant that it would be a boy. The air had told him. The blood in his veins had surged with purpose. And when he first held Nyrix, slick and screaming, with his small fists already clenched like he was born ready to fight the world... Nethrax knew he had won something greater than all the thrones of Hell combined.