As soon as we ascended the spiral staircase and the bookshelf slid shut behind us, my father didn't wait. He crossed the room in two long strides and enveloped my mother in an embrace that seemed to squeeze the very air from her lungs. She gasped, then melted into him, her hands clutching the back of his tunic.

  "Kaelen?" she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. "What happened down there?"

  He pulled back just enough to look at her, his stormy eyes shining with an intensity I had rarely seen. He looked at me, then back at her. "Thank you, Seraphine," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for giving me such an amazing son. He will change our bloodline forever. We are something new."

  The commotion woke Lyra. She stirred in my mother’s arms, blinking her sapphire eyes open with a sleepy yawn that ended in a cute little squeak. She looked around, her gaze landing on me with sudden, laser-like focus.

  "Brother," she said, her voice clear and filled with the hopeful opportunism of a five-year-old. "Can I have my crayons back? I promise I'll be good. No booms."

  I crossed my arms, fighting back a smile. "Did you forget you're still grounded for that little stunt you and Kaelus pulled?"

  I had confiscated her entire arsenal of art supplies. Kaelus, her co-conspirator, had suffered the indignity of having his favorite red velvet pillow confiscated for the duration of their sentence. Three months. A lifetime for a child and a dragon.

  Lyra frowned, her brow furrowing in deep concentration. She held up her hands, spreading all ten fingers wide. Then, with great deliberation, she lowered one thumb.

  "Nine left!" she declared triumphantly. "Brother said I'm grounded for twelve weeks. So that's nine left!"

  My mother let out a soft laugh, gently taking Lyra's hands. "Oh, my sweet girl. Fingers are wonderful for counting cookies, but weeks are a little tricky. We've only been here for three days. You have eleven weeks and four days left."

  Lyra’s face fell. She looked at her fingers as if they had personally betrayed her. "Stupid fingers," she muttered.

  My father, recovering from his emotional outburst, chuckled. "Don't worry, little lioness. Time flies when you're... behaving."

  The Headmaster, who had been watching this domestic scene with a look of bemused wonder, cleared his throat. "Lord Wight," he said gently. "Perhaps it would be best if the young lady played outside? The shade of the Great Banyan is quite pleasant this time of day."

  I hesitated. The world outside was dangerous. The political sharks were circling.

  "Child, do not worry," the Headmaster continued, sensing my apprehension. "This is Dragon Valley. No one would dare harm anyone on these premises. This is neutral territory, sacred ground. More so for a member of the Dragon-Blood families. As a scion of House Wight, she is practically royalty in these lands. No one is foolish enough to do anything that would risk angering all of dragonkind. The very stones would rise against them."

  I looked at Lyra, who was practically vibrating with the need to run and play. I looked at Kaelus, who was hovering near the door, clearly thinking this would be an excellent opportunity to sneak off and find his pillow.

  "Fine," I relented. "But take your attendants."

  I summoned Elara and Kael via comm-bead. They arrived in moments, looking sharp and ready in their cadet uniforms.

  "Keep her in sight," I ordered.

  "With our lives, my Lord," Kael said, bowing low.

  Lyra cheered and bolted for the door, Kaelus zipping after her with a speed that suggested he was indeed acting as much out of protectiveness as a desire for freedom.

  With the children gone, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The warmth of family was replaced by the cold, hard weight of politics. We settled back around the desk.

  "Your situation is... complicated," the Headmaster began, pulling two scrolls from his drawer. "Dragon Valley operates under a strict mandate. We are a sanctuary, a neutral ground where even bitter enemies must sheathe their swords. It is a fragile peace, maintained only by the absolute authority of the Dragon Kings."

  Like the United Nations, I thought, the analogy from my old world sprang to mind. But with actual teeth.

  He slid the first scroll across the desk. It was sealed with the green wax of the Verdant Conclave. "A formal demand from Queen Sariel. She demands reparations for the 'unprovoked attack' on her fleet. She claims you massacred a peaceful diplomatic envoy."

  "Peaceful," I scoffed. "Fifteen million soldiers. Five thousand warships. Very peaceful."

  "Truth is irrelevant in politics, my boy," the Headmaster sighed. "Perception is everything."

  He slid the second scroll over. It bore the obsidian seal of Cinderfall. "And this... this is from King Theron."

  I broke the seal and read. It was short, blunt, and delusional. The King demanded that I, as the Duke of a vassal state, come to the capital, kneel before the Obsidian Throne, and swear my allegiance. In exchange for this 'act of contrition,' my 'transgressions' would be forgiven, and I would be allowed to serve as a general in his army.

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  My father leaned over, read the letter, and let out a bark of laughter that shook the teacups. "I guess that old kite has finally lost his mind after the beating he received. Kneel? My son? Good one."

  "It is absurd," the Headmaster agreed. "But it is also dangerous. He is cornered. A cornered beast bites."

  He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Alarion, I implore you. Do not pursue any more violence. You have made your point. You have the power. Now, use it to build. Ignore their provocations. Follow the path of peace. Build a new home here, or in your flying fortress. Let the old hatreds die."

  His words were wise. They were the counsel of a man who had seen too much war.

  But fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

  In the middle of his lecture on pacifism, the Headmaster’s voice hitched. His eyes, fixed on the window behind me, widened in sudden alarm. He stood up so fast his chair toppled over.

  "Oh no," he whispered.

  I turned. Through the window, I saw the base of the Great Banyan. I saw Lyra, happily gathering flowers. And I saw a figure approaching her, clad in gleaming crimson armor.

  At the same moment, a sensation slammed into my mind. It wasn't a thought from Kaelus. It was a roar. A tidal wave of pure, unadulterated rage and bloodlust that turned my vision red.

  Brother...

  This feeling... this raw, unfiltered connection... it was what my father had described. The proper utilization of draconic magic. The bridge. It appeared I could only master it when Kaelus was exhibiting extreme emotion.

  But more importantly... what the hell was going on?

  My mother gasped, starting to rise. "Lyra!"

  "Kaelus is there," I said, my voice tight but steady, placing a hand on her arm. "Don't worry. Stay here."

  I turned to Nyxia, who was already on her feet, her expression grim. "Let's go."

  We ran for the door.

  . . .

  Outside the Great Banyan, the air was sweet with the scent of sun-warmed grass and blooming jasmine. Lyra hummed a tuneless, happy song as she gathered flowers, weaving them into a lopsided crown. Kaelus, in his cat-sized form, was currently engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a particularly aggressive butterfly, rolling in the grass with undignified glee.

  Suddenly, a shadow fell over them.

  "Move, you peasant," a voice sneered from behind Lyra.

  She turned. Standing there, flanked by two nervous-looking guards, was a man in gleaming crimson armor, his cape embroidered with a golden phoenix. Prince Ignis Flavius. He looked down at the small girl in the blue dress with undisguised contempt, seeing only an obstacle in his path. He came here regularly to meet with his fiancée, trying to convince her to leave her post, and his patience was clearly thin.

  Lyra’s attendants, Elara and Kael, moved instantly. They stepped between their charge and the intruder, their hands on the hilts of their swords, their faces masks of fierce, protective loyalty.

  "You stand before Her Highness, Lyra of House Wight," Kael declared, his voice ringing clear. "Show respect."

  The name seemed to agitate Ignis. His face flushed, his eyes narrowing. "Wight? Another one of that filthy brood? Everyone thinks they can scare me with that name now. I shall end you all where you stand."

  He reached for his sword.

  The action was interrupted not by steel, but by a shadow that suddenly grew to cover them all. Ignis looked up, his sneer faltering.

  Behind the little girl, the small, cat-sized dragon had stopped rolling. He was growing. Expanding. The air around him shimmered and warped as he shed his disguise, revealing the thirty-meter cosmic titan beneath. Kaelus rose to his full height, his scales a swirling galaxy of starlight and void, his eyes burning with the cold, absolute fury of a dying star.

  He looked down at the girl. Ignis followed his gaze. For the first time, he truly looked at her. He saw the silver hair, shimmering like moonlight. He saw the sapphire eyes, wide and innocent, but unmistakably the eyes of the Lion. The realization hit him like a physical blow. This wasn't just a child. This was the sister of the monster who had unmade his armies. The sister everyone thought was dead.

  He had just threatened the most protected person on the planet.

  The sky began to darken. Clouds swirled into existence from nothing, crackling with raw, blue lightning. The air grew heavy, the pressure dropping so fast that ears popped. This was not just anger. This was the wrath of a Star-Born Titan. A cosmic prince was not happy about a death threat to his little sister on his own soil.

  Ignis stumbled back, his face draining of color, his sword half-drawn but forgotten. He looked up at the dragon, at the maw beginning to glow with the light of a contained supernova. He was going to die. Here, in a garden, turned to ash for his arrogance.

  Suddenly, the ground between them erupted.

  A massive flower bud, the size of a carriage, burst from the earth, its petals woven from pure, emerald mana. It bloomed in an explosion of green light, and from its center, the Headmaster stepped out. He didn't look like a kindly old teacher. He looked like the Avatar of the Forest, his eyes glowing with ancient power.

  He held up a hand, a shimmering barrier of vines and hard light forming instantly to catch the wave of draconic pressure.

  He looked at Ignis, his face hard as flint. A smaller flower bud materialized above the Prince's head. It bloomed in an instant, and a heavy wooden cane dropped from its center, striking Ignis squarely on the forehead with a resounding THWACK.

  "Apologize," the Headmaster’s voice boomed, amplified by the tree itself to drown out the rising storm. "Now. Or your father won't be able to save you from the wrath of the Dragon Clans. If you value your life, boy, apologize."

  By the time I reached the scene, bursting from the tree's roots with Nyxia at my heels, the confrontation was over.

  I saw a sight I never expected. Prince Ignis Flavius, the Golden Phoenix, was on his knees in the dirt, stammering a terrified apology to a five-year-old girl who was looking at him with mild confusion. Kaelus loomed over him, smoke curling from his nostrils, a low growl vibrating in his chest that promised immediate incineration if the apology wasn't sincere enough.

  The fool had been caught off guard. News of my sister's survival had not yet reached the world, or else no one, not even Ignis, would have been stupid enough to threaten her in the heart of Dragon Valley.

  For once, rage was not the first thing I felt. I watched as Ignis finished his stammering, scrambled to his feet, and practically ran away, his tail tucked firmly between his legs, his guards struggling to keep up.

  I laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, but it was genuine.

  Even Nyxia, standing beside me, let out a soft chuckle. "The Golden Phoenix," she murmured, shaking her head. "Bested by a little." She looked at me, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "The biggest headache of my day, solved in seconds."

  I walked over to Lyra, who beamed up at me. "Brother! Eggy got really big again!"

  I picked her up, hugging her tight. Kaelus shrank back down, landing on my shoulder with a huff of satisfaction.

  The war was waiting. The politics were messy. But for now, watching the retreating of a terrified prince, the world felt just a little bit brighter.