Miria, the Queen of Demons, stood in her castle, which loomed at the heart of her domain. Her senses could perceive all that existed and did not exist, all that was created and left unmade, all that died and remained forever dead.
Her unfocused eyes gazed upon the barren ashen wasteland, bathed in the sickly red radiation cast by a crimson moon.
This domain had been dead for a very long time—for eons too long that Miria could no longer trace, for a time where death paralleled life, where her own breath followed the First Breath.
For the first time, Miria watched her existence transform. The cycle of life began to turn, and time itself stirred anew.
The crimson moon retreated, replaced by a golden sun that burned away the ashes of death and welcomed the breaths of new life.
Fields of green sprouted wherever Miria's eyes lingered. Trees rose where she willed them to grow. And pure waters flowed gently where the blood of fallen heroes had once pooled at her feet.
Time continued to pass, and Miria merely observed—silent, and resistant to change. Yet she was the one who initiated the change. She was the one who had changed.
"The hero Lian once told me the meaning of a new day," said the former dragon heroine, though Miria did not look away from the life flourishing in her domain. "What a shame he isn't here. He would have smiled."
Miria did not reply—but in the silence, she agreed.
She kept watching in silence, but life always betrays stillness. New breaths of existence began to emerge in her domain—wild, aquatic, amphibious, and aerial.
Slowly, Miria raised her hand, studying her sharp claws for a long moment. Then, she moved that hand and rested it upon her stomach.
There, inside her, life pulsed. A new life. A life Miria never imagined she could carry. A life that came to mean more to her than her own existence.
"And every life deserves a name."
That was how Miria changed.