The dream was warm. Two girls — one eighteen, one just past twenty — in Iveryn training robes, wandered a misty forest collecting glowing herbs beneath silverleaf trees. They laughed freely, one chasing the other across mossy stones and up through the branches.
Then, a noise. Metal boots. Soldiers.
"Run!" one girl shouted.
They raced through the woods, leaping across roots and ducking under limbs. The forest opened to a golden glade, sunlight bathing their skin. They ran to it, laughing, spinning—
Darkness fell like a curtain.
The dream shattered.
Queen Elara gasped and jolted upright in bed.
She pressed a hand to her back — the weight she once carried there was gone. The blade she'd given… it was with the girl from her dream now.
Barefoot and breathless, she crossed the moonlit room and stepped out onto her balcony. Her black hair tumbled loose until she tied it into a messy bun. It was past two in the morning, and the moon stared down on the Empire of Elaris like a silent witness.
"I gave it away," she whispered. "To her."
She didn't say the name. She didn't have to.
The Hunt Begins
In the Elaris Empire's southern minority kingdom, three cloaked figures stood at the border checkpoint of a small village known for its iron chickens and outlawed garments.
"Oi! Cloaks are banned here," said a meat vendor in a greasy apron. "Where you from?"
The lead hunter tossed a scroll onto the counter. The butcher frowned and opened it.
Elara's sigil.
The soldiers at the gate inspected it, nodded, and opened the border silently.
The three dragon hunters entered the dark, whispering forest.
Branches twisted above them like horns. Then — a sudden arrow slammed into the trunk ahead.
The hunters flinched.
Milo emerged from the shadows. "Welcome to the hunt."
They trekked deep into forbidden lands. One hunter, gruff and tanned, muttered, "You really saw it?"
Milo nodded. "Yes. But the dragon saw me too."
Another hunter asked, "How does an empire known for alliances raise dragon hunters?"
Milo answered quietly, "We don't hunt the peaceful. Only the old gods."
By sundown, they reached a cliff edge overlooking the ruins of the Lost Sixth Continent — a place wiped clean by time. They made camp in silence.
At dawn, they moved.
The mountain cave they found seemed lifeless — until three massive dragons burst from the stone. Milo distracted two, vanishing into fog.
The third hunter, trembling, dropped Elara's scroll. It fluttered to the ground — face up.
The lead dragon saw the sigil and stopped.
It growled softly. The others wheeled away into the sky.
The final one, the youngest, was captured — but not wounded. Only unconscious.
The hunters bound it with spells. They didn't know what they were carrying.
But Elara did.
Letters and Silk
In Iveryn, Queen Ivera sat on a terrace wrapped in a soft nightgown, studying Elysera's childhood painting with Lysenne and Nirelle. The young elf maid smiled gently, tracing her finger over the clumsy sun and flaming stick figures.
Then — a screech.
A winged magical beast crash-landed at the window, scroll tied to its talons.
Lysenne caught it. Her expression shifted.
Solane's seal.
A message.
Moments later, far across the realm, Queen Solane herself stood in her bedroom wearing nothing but gold-threaded panties and a sheer robe. A scroll lay on her bed.
She read it.
Her face went pale.
She threw on her battle dress and crown, stormed into the council room, and slammed the scroll on the table. "Who allowed hunters into Iveryn?"
Her ministers scrambled. Hours later, one confessed.
"It was Lord Venar, of the western isles," the minister admitted. "He… he took orders from Elara."
Solane's eyes burned. "Send word to Ivera. Elara's playing a long game."
Call for Fire
In Iveryn, the response was immediate. Queen Ivera handed the scroll to Lysenne.
"Elara dares send dragon hunters into our sacred ground," she said. "Begin war drills. Children, soldiers, mages. Train everyone."
Lysenne bowed. "It will be done."
Every school in the capital shifted to defense classes. The castle training ground rang with steel and spellfire. Archers formed crescent moons. Elementalists summoned flame walls.
By the gates, a child — no older than ten — stood watching.
A battle-worn soldier kneeled beside him.
"Why are you here?" the boy asked.
"To keep monsters out," the soldier replied.
"Even if it hurts?"
The soldier smiled. "Especially then."
Dance of Liberty
Elysera stepped into Nirelle's room and tossed a cloak at her.
"Come. We're leaving the castle."
"Princess—what? Why?"
"You've never seen the real Iveryn. Tonight, you will."
Disguised as commoners, they walked the streets under starlight until they reached a small town in the hills — the same place Nyx and Lira first met.
Inside the tavern, music pulsed softly. The stage was empty.
Elysera led Nirelle backstage and slipped out of her cloak, revealing a dancer's shimmering red outfit beneath.
"You're going to… dance?"
Elysera grinned. "In Iveryn, we're free to be wild."
And then she did.
The performance was seductive, powerful — raw freedom expressed in every step. The patrons cheered, thinking her just another wild spirit. But Nirelle saw the fire — and the pain — behind her smile.
Afterward, Elysera took her hand.
"Next time… dance with me."
Nirelle nodded slowly. "Yes, my Princess."
Shadow and Firegate
Far across the sands, in a ruined stone vault lit only by ghostfire, Ren stood before a glowing pool.
He pulled the scroll from his coat — Queen Ivera's words etched in gold.
> "Find the firegate. Before Varyn does."
He whispered the phrase aloud.
The surface of the water rippled.
A vision formed — Nyx, bloodied and broken… the Butterfly Blade burning in her hand… vanishing beyond a battlefield of ash.
Ren's chest tightened.
A voice whispered from the water.
> "Your name is not Ren. It never was."
He looked down — and in the reflection, Elara's face emerged beside his.
The Quiet Game
Back in the Dravaryn capital, Varyn sat before a war map, sipping darkroot wine.
A soldier stepped forward. "The hunters succeeded. The dragon has been captured."
Varyn smiled. "And Elara delivers. Perhaps we were wrong to doubt her."
The shadows behind him whispered, "She's not doing it for you."
Varyn ignored them. "No matter. She helps us now. That's all that matters."
But outside the chamber, cloaked watchers passed messages.
One to Ivera.
One to Elara.
One to someone unseen — in a room with no throne, only a crown hanging in silence.
[End of Chapter]
A storm was rising.
And beneath it, truths waited to ignite.
To be continued in Chapter 14...