“Why did you come?”

  It was barely louder than breath,

  but TT was furious.

  He never complained—

  not even when a game went badly.

  This was the first time

  Crys had seen

  that kind of heat.

  Crys shrank under it, words failing him.

  The anger turned.

  “You too, Shu.

  Both of you—go back.

  As far as you can.

  Now.”

  “Impossible.”

  Suguri made a small X with her fingers.

  No expression.

  TT’s upbringing wouldn’t let his face twist into something ugly—

  but Tsek’s restless movements betrayed him.

  Crys watched,

  heart tight.

  If they split now,

  they were done.

  “TT, listen,” Crys rushed.

  “This is what she means.

  The tunnel’s blocked.

  Not a cave-in.

  Magic.

  Strong magic.

  Probably Adama’s.

  We’re locked in.

  Unless Adama lifts it,

  or someone equal does—

  we don’t leave.”

  “I said that.”

  TT looked from Crys—

  desperate—

  to Suguri—

  unmoved—

  and pressed a hand to his forehead,

  forcing breath steady.

  Beyond the fallen crystal,

  Adama raged blind,

  smashing at walls,

  at echoes.

  Old.

  Its senses dulled.

  Still—

  more than enough.

  TT’s smile came,

  thin and forced.

  “So.

  Soft-lock.”

  “Just me,” Crys said.

  TT tilted his head, as if to say, Go on.

  Crys tugged at his hoodie.

  “You know.

  You can leave.

  She can leave.

  I can’t.

  I knew it.

  When you pushed me to run.

  It should’ve been me staying.

  You going to Rone.

  She sent a messenger,

  but maybe you’d still be faster…”

  “Leave you here?

  Knowing you can’t get out?

  You serious?”

  TT’s lower lip pushed out,

  almost offended.

  “And I don’t regret my call.

  My Yatsar limit’s unknown.

  Teleport range?

  Less than half this cave’s length.

  Don’t know how many jumps.

  If I stall,

  we lose more time.

  Better Shu runs.

  She’s tougher than you are.”

  A glance.

  A crooked grin.

  “Didn’t expect her

  to deploy a messenger.

  Nice.”

  Suguri puffed up,

  small and proud.

  “I hadn’t answered yet.

  Why I came.”

  “You said the tunnel was sealed.”

  “That part doesn’t matter.”

  She pointed sharply.

  “One answer. I came to save the princess.”

  “…We can joke later?”

  “You.”

  TT looked at Crys,

  shaken in a way

  the dragon hadn’t managed.

  Crys closed his eyes. He had no idea.

  A crash.

  All three turned.

  Dust billowed.

  Adama’s shadow swayed.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Gone was the solemn majesty

  of the voice that had once spoken directly into his mind.

  Now it threw its jaws wide—

  crocodile-like—

  and roared.

  It did not charge.

  It watched.

  Was it confused by the scent?

  Choosing its prey?

  That pause was enough.

  TT tightened his grip on the staff.

  “Relying on you, Prince.”

  “Mmm. Leave it to me.”

  Suguri took a fighting stance

  too fierce for her size.

  “First—Yatsar.

  What can you do?”

  “Transform.

  Can’t revert perfectly.

  But that’s irrelevant.”

  “Size?”

  “Depends.

  I know large animals.”

  “Good.

  Can you trace Adama?”

  “Age is beautiful.

  But I dislike seeing Adama like this.”

  “Angry beauty is still beauty.

  Your call.

  Here’s the plan.”

  Crystals fell like spears.

  Adama crouched.

  “I’ll mount the head.

  Dive into the mind.

  If I connect,

  maybe I can reason with Adama.

  Maybe I can take control.

  Buy me time.”

  “So I’m the cat toy?”

  “Perfect.”

  Suguri ran.

  Slow.

  Too slow.

  TT shoved Crys back,

  swung the staff.

  A translucent wall—

  honeycombed,

  green-blue—

  rose between them.

  “Stay.”

  His grin said it.

  But there was no ease in his eyes,

  and his lips had gone as pale as his skin.

  Crys bit down hard,

  swallowing the helplessness that threatened to spill out,

  and shouted at TT,

  who was already breaking into a run

  in the direction opposite Suguri.

  “Fifteen minutes!”

  Crys shouted.

  “Hold out!”

  “Easy.”

  TT leapt.

  A dull metallic thud.

  Adama slammed the shield.

  Claws raked.

  Useless.

  It lowered its head.

  And then—

  those black pupils

  found Crys.

  Dark.

  Without mercy.

  A shriek split the air.

  Adama flinched.

  Talons struck.

  One eye tore open.

  Orange blood—lava-bright—

  fell and turned to obsidian.

  Adama roared.

  Before Adama stood a griffin.

  Eagle head.

  Lion body.

  Its wings spanned nearly twice its body length.

  Feathers brown.

  Wet-dog brown.

  Suguri.

  Small beside the dragon.

  But faster.

  She danced.

  Dodged.

  Hunted the second eye.

  Adama tried to fly.

  Bones creaked.

  Wings failed.

  It opened its jaws.

  Fire—

  none came.

  Old.

  Spent.

  It was fortunate.

  Still—

  Crys felt it.

  A thin thread of sadness ran through him.

  TT moved.

  Crystals rose,

  forming steps.

  He climbed.

  Higher.

  Then higher still—

  and dropped,

  light as a feather,

  onto Adama’s head.

  A thin shield formed around him.

  He clung.

  Closed his eyes.

  ── “Adama… Adama…”

  At first he thought he’d imagined it.

  TT’s voice—

  so faint it barely existed.

  Not shouted.

  Not meant to compete with the dragon’s rage.

  It was the same way Adama had spoken before—

  directly into the mind.

  But the cavern roared.

  Stone broke.

  The ground shook.

  The words came in fragments.

  Crys glanced once more at Suguri—

  still circling cleanly,

  keeping the dragon’s eye—

  then closed his own

  and listened.

  Darkness.

  He sifted through the noise,

  searching for TT’s voice.

  The thin light behind his eyelids faded,

  blotted out—

  as if he were sinking

  from a sunlit surface

  into the deep sea.

  It felt like the moment just before a strange dream.

  He focused harder.

  The outside sounds vanished entirely—

  like slipping into the zone mid-game.

  In that instant, for reasons he couldn’t name,

  Crys felt as though he were no longer in the tunnel

  but standing in some dark room.

  The strangeness of it unsettled him enough to try opening his eyes—

  and then his body jolted.

  Pulled—

  and at the same time, pushed.

  It lasted only a heartbeat.

  He opened them.

  And screamed—

  though even his own ears

  never heard it.

  He was floating.

  A cavern of magma.

  Nothing like the crystal chamber.

  Fire.

  Flame.

  Molten light.

  Why he was floating—

  why he was somewhere else—

  he had no space to think about it.

  He was simply overwhelmed.

  And then, from somewhere—

  TT’s voice.

  ── “Tanīn Evenyakarā, Adama of Draconadom.

  Great one.

  Crimson flame.

  Eternal guardian.”

  Crys searched for TT—

  then for Adama—

  for TT upon its back.

  But there was nothing.

  Not even a shadow.

  No griffin either.

  They would have been impossible to miss in a closed space like this.

  And yet—

  Gone.

  TT’s voice sounded again,

  as if from outside the world.

  ── “You stand at the hour of shedding ancient scales,

  of becoming new.

  Please.

  Be at peace.”

  The magma beneath Crys pulsed—

  as though the earth breathed.

  ── “Aye.

  Such was my will.

  Yet it was ye who shattered my stillness.

  Trouble me no further.”

  The lava convulsed.

  From the molten torrent,

  a dragon rose—

  clad in fire.

  Flame geysers burst around it,

  echoing its anger.

  Crys trembled.

  The rage clinging to its body—

  the same rage

  as the one rampaging outside.

  This was Adama.

  ── “Defiled?” TT’s voice faltered.

  ── “If stepping into thy deepest sanctum

  and touching thy form

  be defilement,

  then I offer no defense.

  Yet thou didst ask

  if we came for the jewels upon thy flesh.

  That suggests

  others have come before.

  What is this defilement?”

  ── “Still thou feignest ignorance?”

  Magma flared.

  The dragon stood fully revealed.

  Not old.

  Not faded.

  Its body was armored in hardened lava,

  flame seeping through the cracks.

  Its eyes—

  molten gold.

  Crys couldn’t move.

  Adama turned its head,

  as if Crys did not exist,

  and fixed its blade-sharp gaze

  on something unseen.

  ── “Since thy coming, I have been undone.

  Ye entered my mind.

  Disturbed my spirit.

  Stripped my dignity.

  Unforgiven.”

  ── “Since we arrived…?”

  TT’s voice lowered.

  Thinking.

  Then—

  ── “You called one of us a rare Koach.

  Is that what harms you?”

  ── “Nay.

  Not of thy making.

  Yet brought by thee.”

  ── “Then someone must have used Yatsar on you.”

  ── “It was thou.”

  Adama grew impatient with TT’s questions.

  Magma burst in small eruptions all around them,

  and Adama’s neck—longer here

  than in the cavern below—

  lashed from side to side.

  But TT spoke

  as if he saw neither

  this altered Adama

  nor the cavern of flame.

  Unflinching. Clear.

  ── “Adama. I wish to help you.

  I want to remove what defiles you.

  Grant me leave to calm you.”

  ── “It shall not be.

  Why deemest thou it permitted to thee?”

  ── “As you are now, you strike your body against stone,

  crush stone with your head,

  lash out without measure.

  If this frenzy continues, you will harm yourself.

  And I cannot allow my friend

  to remain in danger.”

  ── “Then depart.

  Trouble me not.”

  ── “Then open the way from the cave.

  The passage is sealed.

  We cannot leave.”

  ── “Such trifles—

  see to them thyself.

  I know naught of it.”

  ── “You… don’t know?

  It isn’t you?”

  Shock entered TT’s voice.

  Crys felt it too.

  Though the air burned with sparks and heat,

  cold ran through him to the marrow.

  Someone—

  or something—

  had meant them harm.

  When he thought of someone,

  a memory stirred—

  something he had glimpsed

  just before Adama lost control.

  Before he could follow it—

  a roar.

  So vast it cracked the cavern walls.

  The air trembled.

  Crys had no time to cover his ears.

  The shock hit him all at once.

  When he dared open his eyes,

  Adama still stared

  into empty space—

  golden flames coiling

  within its twin eyes.

  Crys followed that gaze.

  From the cavern wall,

  a shape emerged—

  a human haze.

  He almost cried out.

  Bit his lip instead.

  The haze took TT’s form.

  Blurry. Not whole.

  And neither Adama

  nor TT

  seemed aware of Crys at all.

  TT stepped forward

  without once glancing his way.

  Straight to Adama’s snout.

  He faced those vast, predatory eyes—

  each nearly his height.

  Adama exhaled white smoke.

  ── “Having heard I am defiled,

  why repeat the trespass?”

  ── “Rebuke me later, if you must.

  But now that we know

  what you call defilement

  was wrought with ill intent,

  I cannot leave it be.

  Let me remove it.”

  ── “No.”

  Adama lunged.

  TT pressed a palm

  against the lava-armored snout,

  used the recoil to spring back behind it.

  Before he could land upon the head,

  Adama’s restraint broke.

  Its neck thrashed wide,

  and crimson flame

  poured from its jaws.

  TT leapt

  as if footholds hung in air,

  took cover behind stone grown from the ceiling,

  dodging the fire.

  Even if he could endure the heat of this cavern

  and the magma clinging to Adama—

  a flame born of will was different.

  Crys tried to move—

  to flee the fire.

  His floating body

  did not respond.

  The flames did not fade.

  They lingered—

  as if fueled

  by resentment.

  Magma surged higher.

  The cavern burned red.

  This must be what hell was meant to be.

  Through it all,

  TT moved lightly—

  speaking still.

  ── “Adama, I do not seek to shame you.

  I only wish to quiet this madness—

  for you, and for your friend.”

  ── “Enough.”

  Adama stamped.

  The earth convulsed.

  Boiling magma rose everywhere at once—

  leaving no space to escape.

  Like a volcano’s throat.

  There was nowhere to run.

  Crys braced for heat

  that would strip him to the bone—

  and then—

  TT lunged.

  Straight into the magma

  engulfing Adama.

  If he must burn,

  then so be it—

  a gamble.

  Adama opened its jaws.

  ── “Begone.”

  Red light swelled

  deep in its throat—

  and flame

  consumed TT.

  “Theo!”

  The shattering sound of glass—

  Suguri’s scream—

  at the same time.

  Crys’s eyes flew open.

  Crystal cavern.

  Restored.

  And there—

  TT, astride the aged Adama,

  jerked backward

  as if struck by a blow—

  and fell.

  Weightless.

  Falling.