Mel (Level 3) mail warning

I know it's a lot but if you read it please let know what you think of it

Things might have gone out of the tracks, I know there are some holes in the plot and it's all shattered, but I may fix it someday

I should put it in some other for it to be easier but for now you will need to figure it out

Caelean

Name: Melarion (Mel)
Race: Half-Dragon (Halo Dragon / Human)
Element: Halo Flame (sacred fire + radiant wind)
Age: 18

Personality:

Mel is the perfect blend of adorable and dangerous—with big curious eyes, a quick smile, and a mischievous streak. But don’t let the cuteness fool you: she’s fiercely independent, brave to a fault, and never backs down from a fight. She’s loyal, a little impulsive, and carries a deep need to prove her worth—to herself and to a world that never told her who she really is.

Backstory:

Melarion was found as an infant in the ruins of an abandoned dragon nest, high in the cliffs of a forgotten mountain. With no clue of where she came from, she was raised by her adoptive uncle, a kind blacksmith in a quiet village far from dragonkind.

She lived as a normal girl—until puberty hit.

First came the dreams of fire and wings. Then the changes: a shimmer beneath her skin, wind currents reacting to her emotions, and finally, a slender tail and iridescent scales blooming along her spine.

The villagers grew wary. Whispers turned into distance. And Mel, both heartbroken and burning with curiosity, made a choice:
to leave the only home she’d ever known and seek the truth about what it means to be a Halo Dragon.

Power – Halo Flame:

Melarion wields Halo Flame, a rare hybrid power blending sacred fire and divine wind. It manifests as radiant, silver-blue flames that dance like auroras and burn through lies, shadows, and illusions. Her powers grow stronger when she protects others or acts with conviction.

Abilities:

Halo Burst: A spiraling column of sacred flame that sears corrupted energy.

Windlash Tail: Her tail can channel gusts or sharp wind blades.

Soothing Ember: Rare ability to emit a warm flame that calms or heals emotional wounds.

Melarion's Story: The Ember of Inheritance

After months on the road, Melarion finally found her way back to the nest where she was discovered as a newborn. The place was eerily still—quiet enough to hear her own breath—but it pulled at something deep in her memory, like a lullaby half-remembered.

There, tucked behind a crumbling cliffside, she found a hidden cave, once sealed by natural rock and protective runes. Inside, the cave bore traces of a life once lived: a stack of weathered tomes, arcane tools, and chalk symbols carved into the stone. There were no names, no portraits, no direct proof—but something about it felt right.

And Melarion started to suspect the truth:
Her real father had been a mage.
Not just a scholar, but someone who dealt in old, forbidden magics—the kind needed to do the impossible.

Among the cave’s scattered texts, she uncovered fragments of a ritual—one that bound dragon flame to human life, allowing them to create something new: a hybrid soul. But such a union came at a cost.

Her mother, Serahyra, the last Halo Dragon, had offered her own life essence—a portion of her soul—into the spell to create the egg. It was not a natural birth, but a sacrifice of love, made possible only through ancient soulbinding magic.

This wasn’t just a story of love. It was one of tragedy, hope, and powerful intent.

The mage—her father—had vanished sometime after, never to return. His name, like her mother’s, was lost to time. But Melarion held onto a single clue:
A reference in his notes to a rare plant called Solmyr's Grace, a legendary herb believed to stabilize soul-weaving rituals. It had only ever grown in wild, unstable magical zones—places long abandoned or warped by ancient battles.

Her name, “Melarion,” had not come from them. It had been given by her adoptive uncle, the kind man who found the egg and raised her as human until the truth began to emerge—until her wings twitched in her dreams and silver-blue scales shimmered in moonlight.

Now, Melarion knows only fragments. But they are enough to set her path ablaze:

"If I am the last, I will not die in silence.
If I am the first, I will make sure I’m not the only one.
I will find the truth.
And I will forge a future my mother gave her life for."

She sets out to search for Solmyr's Grace, traces of her father’s legacy, and others like her—half-dragons, outcasts, and wanderers—willing to join her in reviving the Halo bloodline.

Melarion's First Flame

In the heart of the abandoned cave—once her father’s home—Melarion found more than relics. Among broken quills, faded maps, and weathered tomes, she uncovered a strange leather-bound diary filled with runes and symbols she couldn’t understand. The writing shimmered faintly in the dim light, and though it made no sense to her, she couldn’t bring herself to leave it behind. It felt… important.

Determined to learn more about her origins, she began living in the cave, studying by torchlight. She poured over every book, every scrap of parchment, trying to decode what her parents had left behind. She slept beneath her father's cloak. She traced every rune with her fingers, trying to feel what he must have felt.

She quickly realized it was magic—advanced, cryptic, and layered. Far beyond what anyone in her village could even imagine. At first, it overwhelmed her. The soulweaving rituals, the binding scripts, even the diagrams of dragon anatomy. But in one thin, nearly crumbling journal, she found something different. Simpler. Almost like it had been written as a beginner’s exercise.

It was a fire spell.

The instructions were barely readable, but she followed them as best she could—her heartbeat racing as she whispered the words. Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
She kept trying until her voice grew hoarse and her fingers were sore. She began to doubt herself.

“Maybe I can’t do magic. Maybe I’m not like him…”

But on the last try—just before she gave up—a tiny flicker of flame danced on her fingertips. It was weak, unstable, and quickly fizzled out… but it had been real.

For a second, she felt something awaken inside her. Not just power—belonging.

That moment lit a fire in her heart.
She read deeper. Practiced harder. Failed, retried, and failed again.
But over time, the sparks returned. Grew stronger. More stable.
She learned to create light, heat, and even manipulate wind in small bursts.
She was learning. On her own. From the remnants of her father’s legacy.

“Maybe I’m not just his daughter.
Maybe I can be something more.”

Her path was clear now—not just to reclaim her species, but to master the power left behind for her. Not because someone told her she could.
But because she was Melarion, the flame reborn.

Arawn

Chapter: Emberbound

Time passed, and the fire between them no longer burned quietly.

Arawn remained close—teaching, guiding, protecting. But there was always that edge. That tension. The way his eyes lingered on her lips when she cast a spell, the way his voice softened when she struggled, the way he never quite stepped too close… but never strayed far.

Melarion noticed.

At first, she ignored it. She had a mission—a legacy to rebuild. But the more she trained, the more she felt him in her soul, like a second heartbeat. His presence wasn’t just beside her—it was within her magic, woven into every rune she traced, every flame she summoned.

He held back, even as his tail twitched when she smiled, even as his golden eyes flashed with desire when her flames danced wild and free.

But Melarion wasn’t a child anymore.
She was a dragon of will and fire.

And she knew what she wanted.

The Moment

They were camped near a cliffside spring, firelight painting shadows across the rocks. Melarion sat across from Arawn, her cloak loose, her silver-blue scales catching the glow. She had been quiet all evening.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“You’re thinking too hard again, little flame,” he murmured, his voice low and lazy. “That’s dangerous. You might summon something worse than me.”

“I already did,” she replied, smirking—half teasing, half inviting.

Arawn stiffened. His golden eyes flickered, then narrowed slightly.

“Careful,” he warned, but there was no edge in his voice. Just need, buried and trembling.

She got up, crossed the space between them, and knelt in front of him. Close enough to feel his heat. Close enough to hear the catch in his breath.

“You try to hide it,” she said softly. “But I feel it. In every look. Every word.”

He turned away, jaw tight.

“It’s not safe, Melarion. I’m not… I’m not what you’re meant for. You’re the last of your kind. You were born for something bigger.”

She reached out, brushing her fingers over his rune-marked chest. The marks pulsed faintly beneath her touch.

“And what if I don’t want to be just the last of something? What if I want to be the beginning of something new?”

He stared at her—stunned, raw, vulnerable. For once, his smirk was gone. There was fear in his eyes. Real, human fear.

“You don’t understand what that means,” he whispered.

“Yes, I do,” she replied. “I know you’ve wanted me. I’ve wanted you too. And if part of reviving my bloodline means starting something with someone like you… then maybe that’s exactly what I’m meant for.”

Arawn’s control cracked.

He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek with a tenderness he’d been holding back for too long.

“If I give in to this,” he said, voice low and trembling, “I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll want all of you. Forever.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes glowing softly.

“Then don’t stop.”

Chapter: Soulfire

Arawn’s breath hitched as her words sank in.

“Then don’t stop.”

There were few things in the world that could shake a half-demon like him.
But her voice—soft, certain, full of trust—broke something open inside him.

He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling. The cave around them faded into silence. Even the fire dared not crackle too loud.

“Melarion…” he whispered, as if her name was a spell that could undo him.
“You don’t know what I carry. What I was. What I still am.”

“I don’t care,” she murmured. “I only care about who you are when you look at me like this.”

He kissed her.

Not hungrily. Not possessively. But like he’d been waiting lifetimes for permission.

Her lips were warm, sweet with magic, and when they touched, it was like their energies sparked—his hellfire and her halo flame igniting in harmony. Her hands found the edges of his jaw, then his shoulders, tracing the glowing runes across his skin. They pulsed beneath her fingers, reacting like they recognized her soul.

His wings unfurled slowly, trembling, as if they could feel her acceptance. His tail brushed the ground, uncertain but drawn to her presence.

“You’re awakening something ancient in me,” he said against her neck. “Not just the demon. Something deeper. Something I never thought I could have.”

“You’re awakening something in me too,” she replied. “A fire I thought was only meant for war… but maybe it was also meant for love.”

They lay beneath the stars, wrapped in a quiet warmth. No need for words. Just the steady rhythm of two hearts—and two magical souls—learning to beat as one.

That night, they didn’t just share bodies.
They shared essence.

Melarion felt his magic intertwine with hers in a way that was more than physical. Her flames shifted in color, a deep violet edge creeping into their core. Arawn’s soul-bond runes began to glow with a soft silver, the first sign that her dragon blood was starting to heal something in him—something he didn’t know could be healed.

And in the space between heartbeats, between breaths and touches, a new possibility was born.

Not just passion.
Not just love.
But life.

Chapter: The Spark of Creation

Their union wasn’t just physical—it was magical.

Unknowingly, when Melarion and Arawn gave themselves to each other under moonlight and flame, their magic responded too. The Halo Flame within Melarion—divine, sacred, and tied to creation—recognized Arawn’s Bound Infernal Soul not as a threat… but as a complement. Two polar forces. Opposing, yet perfectly balanced.

Where her bloodline was dying, his was sealed.
Where her flame sought to bring life, his had only known isolation.

And for one perfect moment, their magic synchronized.

How Their Child Was Conceived

Unlike ordinary conception, this one was triggered by resonance.

Melarion’s Halo Flame was born from her mother’s soul sacrifice—it holds ancient draconic fertility magic rooted in sacrifice and rebirth.

Arawn’s Bound Soul contains fragments of primal infernal energy that had never merged with anything living. His body had been partially sealed, his power incomplete—but Melarion’s closeness unlocked the seal just enough.

When their bodies joined, so did their souls, however briefly.

In that sacred moment, a tiny spark was planted in Melarion—not just of life, but of a new, never-before-seen bloodline:

Dragon

Human

Demon

Soulbound

It didn’t happen through intention.
It happened through true resonance—two fractured souls finally completing the circle of life.

Aftermath and Signs

A few days after their union, Melarion begins to feel it:

Her magic flares unexpectedly, glowing more brightly than ever

She feels a warmth in her belly, not physical, but spiritual—as if a flame has settled inside her, quietly alive

Arawn notices his runes no longer flicker erratically, but pulse with steady rhythm, like an unborn heartbeat

When Melarion casts spells, the air bends around her slightly, like something is protecting her from within

Arawn, at first, doesn’t say anything.

But one night, when her flames accidentally take on a faint crimson edge—the exact shade of his magic—he places his hand gently over her stomach.

“You carry more than your legacy now, little flame,” he says quietly. “You carry ours.”

Chapter: Flame Within

Melarion sat by the cave’s edge, watching the horizon flicker with the dying light of dusk. Her hands were clasped in her lap, trembling slightly—not from the wind, but from something deeper. Warmer.

Inside her, she could feel it.

Not a kick. Not a flutter. But a presence—small, new, and pulsing with life.
Not just life—power.

She had dreamed of restoring her species. She had imagined searching far and wide for others, gathering a new generation from scattered bloodlines. But never—not even once—had she imagined this:

That the first spark of her people’s rebirth would be growing inside her.
That it would be hers.

And his.

Arawn approached from behind, silent as usual. But she didn’t need to hear him to know he was there. His aura always felt like a storm waiting to break—but now it was… gentler.

She turned to face him.

“I know,” she whispered before he could speak.

A pause.

He stepped closer, kneeling beside her. “How long have you known?”

“A few days,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to believe it at first. I thought I was imagining it. But… I can feel them.” Her voice softened. “Like a little flame tucked beneath my ribs.”

Arawn said nothing for a moment, his golden eyes studying her face.

“You’re scared,” he said.

She nodded, voice barely audible. “I don’t know what they’ll be. What it means.
Dragon, human… demon. Soulbound.
There’s no one like them. No one to guide me. What if they burn out? What if I’m not enough?”

Arawn gently cupped her cheek, his hand warm and grounding.

“Then we burn with them,” he said. “We learn with them. You are not alone in this, Melarion. Not ever again.”

Her throat tightened. Her hand found his and held it against her heart.

“I never thought my story would start here,” she murmured, “with you.
I wanted to bring back my kind… but maybe this child—our child—isn’t the end of anything. Maybe it’s the beginning of something new.”

Arawn leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently to hers.

“Then let’s make a world worthy of them.”

Chapter: The Choice of Flame

Melarion sat by the hearth, her child sleeping peacefully against soft linen. Arawn stood beside her, quiet, his runes dim, his gaze distant. The bond between them pulsed steady—but incomplete. The seal within him remained, buried deep, like a shackle around his soul.

And Melarion couldn’t bear it anymore.

“I’m going,” she said. “To find a way to break the seal.
To set you free. All of you.”

Arawn didn’t speak at first. But when he finally did, his voice was low and steady.

“Then I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes.”

Chapter: The Ivory Hollow

The mage village was carved into cliffside stone, crystalline towers spiraling toward the clouds. A place of pure order, perfect theory, and no place for beings like her.

The moment Melarion arrived, carrying her staff and legacy, she was met with stares—fear, judgment, and whispers:

“A dragonborn… mixed with infernal?”
“She carries magic no theory can define.”
“She shouldn’t be allowed within our wards.”

She begged. Explained. Described Arawn’s partial seal, the need for soul magic. But none dared to touch what they didn’t understand.

All but one.

Chapter: The Mage of Stars

Nicholas was younger than the others. Barefoot, his robe half-loose over an athletic frame, hair tousled like he’d just woken from a nap, but his eyes—vivid green, sharp as blades—studied her like a living equation.

“You’re not here for them,” he said. “You’re here for the truth.
I’ll come with you.”

When she asked why, he smiled faintly.

“Because you deserve someone who actually listens.
And because your story matters.”

The Journey and the Fire Between

Nicholas wasn’t like Arawn. He was open, warm, intensely intelligent. He studied her magic, even admired it. As they ventured deeper into forbidden territories, through soul-warped groves and shattered ley-lines, they grew close—not just in goal, but in presence.

He knew about Arawn. He respected him.
But he also watched Melarion.

One night, beneath a crescent moon and silver wind, after weeks of danger, laughter, close calls, and long nights of spellwork…

Passion overtook them.

It was fierce. Respectful.
A moment of humanity, clarity, heat.

And then it was over.

No regrets. No confusion. Just a breath between two souls walking the same path.

Neither of them knew that in the silent hours after, as she slept and his fingers brushed her back like starlight, something ancient stirred inside her again.

A new child.
Another miracle.
And like her, this one would be born from an egg.