BOOM!

That night in the Province of Arezzo brought a seasonal thunderstorm. The windows of the hillside villa rattled under the assault of wind and rain, while lightning carved blinding gashes across the sky, tearing apart the silence of the night. Six-year-old Dorian was jolted awake by a deafening thunderclap. He curled into a ball on his bed, wrapping himself tightly in his blanket. Lightning split the sky again, casting a rim of white light around the edges of the blackout curtains. The gold rings around his pupils trembled faintly in the darkness.

BOOM—!

Another thunderclap, fiercer than the last. This time, Dorian couldn't take it anymore.

"Papa... Dad..." His voice, thin as a mosquito's whine, was swallowed by the thunder.

His mind made up, he quickly threw off the blanket and stepped barefoot onto the clean wooden floor. Clutching his beloved little blanket to his chest, Dorian tiptoed through the dark corridor toward his parents' bedroom. Each flash of lightning twisted the shadows of the hallway decorations into eerie shapes, urging him to quicken his pace.

In the master bedroom, Lleuad's eyes snapped open in the darkness, his blood red pupils flashing with sharp alertness. But he relaxed almost immediately, a smile curving at the corner of his lips. His senses were far keener than ordinary people's; the pulse of blood allowed him to perceive who was approaching.

"Little Milkshake is coming." Lleuad gently nudged Suolan beside him, his soft voice entirely different from his usual tone.

Suolan woke with drowsy eyes, sensing the subtle fluctuations of a familiar life energy in the room.

The door was pushed open cautiously, revealing Dorian's small figure. Lleuad could clearly see his pale face and his blue-gold eyes filled with fear.

"Papa... Dad..." Dorian stood in the doorway, his young voice trembling. "The thunder... it's so loud..."

Suolan sat up immediately, reaching out to his son. "Come here, Little Milkshake. It's alright."

His call was sweet as honey, especially reassuring to the child on this stormy night.

The next rumble of thunder sent Dorian running forward, throwing himself into Suolan's arms. Suolan's hand gently stroked his son's soft ash-beige hair, a faint warmth emanating from his palm as he cast his unique soothing magic.

"Did the thunder scare you?" Suolan asked softly.

Dorian nodded, but with a child's stubborn pride, he refused to admit he was scared. "I just... wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Of course, mon petit guerrier courageux, did you come to protect us?" With a soft chuckle, Lleuad gave a gentle flick to his son's nose.

Dorian looked up at his father. Lleuad's red eyes glowed in the darkness like two beautiful gems, mysterious yet warm.

"Can I... sleep here?" Dorian asked, his small hands clutching tightly at his papa's pajamas.

"Of course you can. Tonight, you're our guardian." Suolan gently unfolded the little blanket, wrapped it around him, and drew him into the center of the bed.

Dorian nestled into the space between his parents, enveloped by their presence. From his dad came the subtle warmth of cardamom, patchouli, and whiskey, deep and mellow; from his papa drifted a distinctive fragrance of sage, frankincense, and vanilla, sweet and soothing. These were the most comforting scents in the world to him.

Lleuad pulled the covers up, tucking them just over Dorian's shoulders, then said softly to Suolan, "It seems we have a little heater with us tonight, mon bien-aimé."

"His energy is a bit unsettled, but it will calm down soon." Suolan smiled, fingers gently stroking Dorian's forehead. "Lleuad, perhaps we should replace all the windows in the house with soundproof ones."

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his son's temple. A faint, barely perceptible green glow flowed from his lips, seeping into Dorian's skin.

Soon, Dorian's eyelids grew heavy. His papa's soothing magic and his dad's sturdy arms formed the strongest of fortresses, and the thunder outside seemed to fade into something distant and harmless.

"Thunder is just the sky singing. It's telling ancient stories." Suolan comforted him.

"What... stories?" Dorian was already drifting off.

"About how a brave little prince conquered the Kingdom of Storms." Lleuad continued, showing the tenderness he reserved only for his family. "I'll tell you the story tomorrow."

In the arms of his dad and papa, Dorian felt safer than ever before. The thunder was no longer frightening; instead, it became a distant lullaby. His eyes slowly closed, his breathing long and steady.

Lleuad and Suolan exchanged a silent glance, their eyes brimming with tenderness. Their hands met above their son's small body, fingers intertwining. The crimson of blood and the green of life coiled around each other, forming a faint yet unbreakable barrier of protection in the darkness.

"Sleep well, notre petit miracle." Lleuad whispered.

"Nothing can harm you, our Little Milkshake." Suolan's warm voice was almost like a lullaby.

Outside the window, the storm raged through the mountains. But within this haven built from love and Occult Ability, little Dorian had already fallen into deep slumber, a peaceful smile resting on his face.

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Translation note: "Mon petit guerrier courageux" means "my brave little warrior." "Notre petit miracle" means "our little miracle."