Drake paused, thought for a long moment, and finally said with conviction, "Safety. And legacy." Silas smiled faintly. "That's a good answer." He raised a hand, and from his fingertips bloomed a soft silver light that was gentle as moonshine and bright as starlight. It wasn't blinding. If anything, it glowed with a purity so warm it felt alive, like it breathed with the rhythm of life itself. "Dragons carry the blood of dragons. Beasts inherit the will of beasts," Silas said softly, but every word was steady and clear. "And he…" His gaze finally lifted to the tiny figure hiding among Drake's hair, peeking out with wide, curious eyes. "…He has a home of his own." As the words fell, that soft glow drifted outward, slow and tender, toward Remy. It wasn't an attack. Not even a command. It was like a sigh of wind, or a gentle call from somewhere far away. Drake's instincts flared; he almost moved to block it with his ability. But the moment their energies brushed, he froze. That light was utterly different from his own strength, yet it did him no harm at all. The reaction from the little one hidden in his hair was much stronger. Remy wriggled out, tiny head tilting toward the light like a sprout chasing the sun. To him, that radiance felt familiar. Safe. Tender. It felt like… the place that had once held him, long ago—the beginning of his life, the imprint carved deep in his blood. "See?" Silas' voice drifted through the still air. It was calm, kind, but unarguable. "No matter how warm a dragon's lair is, it can't hatch a phoenix's egg. No matter how strong a dragon's power grows, it can't stop a seed from reaching for the light." He stepped forward, unhurried and unafraid, stopping just short of Drake, keeping a precise and respectful distance. He held out his hand. The light hovered above his palm, pulsing softly. "Remy," he murmured.It was the first time he'd spoken his son's name. His voice trembled with emotions he didn't let show. It was grief, awe, love all smoothed into one note of infinite gentleness. "Come here," he said. "Come to Daddy." The little fruit glanced between Drake's horns and the soft glow in Silas' hand. His tiny mind wrestled with the biggest decision he'd ever faced. Silas didn't rush him. He simply waited. Deep down, he was a man ruled by obsession. For someone like that, waiting was the cruelest kind of torment. But he also knew well that as a true lover and father, respect and guidance mattered far more than force or possession. After all, he had always been the top hunter and the most patient victor on the interstellar battlefield. For a moment, time seemed to hold its breath. Remy looked once more at Drake, then at Silas. On one side was the father he'd woken up to, towering and kind, never jealous, never harsh. Drake's hair was the softest nest he'd ever known.On the other stood a complete stranger. A male he didn't know. Yet the light in that man's palm seemed to hum with an ancient lullaby, every glimmer calling his name, stirring within him a pull from the depths of his soul—a sense of belonging he couldn't resist. Drake felt the child waver and opened his mouth to speak. But in that instant, a thread of light uncurled from Silas' palm. It shimmered like a living thing, crossed the space between them, and brushed gently against Remy's round body. Warmth flooded him, washing through every inch of his being. It was the feeling of being whole—of being home. Every bit of his small power sang with joy. His soul whispered the truth to him: That's where I belong. Remy nuzzled Drake's horn one last time, letting out a tiny, apologetic chirp. Then, with a brave little leap, he jumped. His small body traced a clumsy arc through the air. Not toward anywhere else, but straight into Silas' outstretched palm, landing with perfect precision and complete trust. He landed neat and sure, right in the center of his palm. Silas' fingers trembled slightly as he caught him. The warmth in his eyes rippled, glistening with quiet tears. He'd been afraid, too—afraid his child wouldn't recognize him. But his little one hadn't disappointed him. He exhaled softly, keeping his face calm. Then, slowly, reverently, he closed his fingers, cradling the tiny fruit like the most fragile treasure in the world. Remy nestled in, rolled once in comfort, and in a soft, milky voice, he whispered, "…Daddy?" That single word unlocked something deep within Silas, like a key turning in the oldest, most guarded part of his heart.