Starfania's mind kept circling back to the same line: " You will encounter a cry unlike any other."
It haunted her. A cry—but not human. Not an animal. Something deeper. Something ancient. She scribbled notes constantly, even during lessons, ignoring the wary glances from her instructors. Between equations, diagrams, and historical dates, she kept returning to theories—echo-frequency? Magical resonance? Storm-call? Nothing fit. Until one afternoon. She sat at the back of the class, only half-listening as the professor lectured on the mythical calls of ancient creatures.
Starfania's chin rested on her hand; her eyes glazed—until the professor read a particular description aloud: " A call so deep it reverberates through bone. A cry woven with sorrow, power, and memory—capable of shaking even the strongest heart."
Her pulse kicked. Her eyes widened. That cry. She knew it instantly. It wasn't human. The creature was not a beast. It was a dragon. Her breath caught as everything snapped into place—the riddle, this vision, the whispering presence from the sword. The fog in her mind cracked open, and for the first time in what felt like forever, light cut through. She barely survived the rest of the school day.
The moment the last bell rang, she bolted home. She rushed to her desk, grabbing parchment with trembling hands. Reaching into her pocket, she hesitated: could the sword work as a pen? She pressed the button. A soft click. A shift of metal. Ink. A smile tugged at her lips. Perfect. She began writing furiously, her thoughts pouring out in a rush. Words flowed faster and faster as she documented her realization. The cry belongs to a dragon—a specific one. A powerful one. And I have to find it. She didn't know the species. She didn't know the location. But she knew this: This was the first correct step on her path. Her pen—no, her sword—scratched to a stop as a voice echoed from downstairs. " Starfania, dinner is ready!"
She sighed, setting the sword-pen carefully on her desk. " I'll be there shortly!"
After slipping it back into her pocket, she headed to the dining hall. The warm scent of her favorite dishes greeted her like a hug. She loaded her plate, trying to focus on the metal and not the dragon-cry pulsing in her thoughts. Ren watched her with quiet curiosity before finally asking, " How was your day?"
Starfania shrugged lightly. " You know…same old. Same old, different day."
Ren smiled gently. " Ah…some things never change."
But something in Ren's expression shifted—softness mixed with worry. She set her fork down, leaning forward with that tone Starfania rarely heard from her.
" Starfania," she said carefully, " there's something I think you should know. It's about your father."
Starfania's breath caught mid-motion. Her fork hovered over her plate.
" …What about him?" She asked, eyebrows knitting as unease pricked the back of her spine. Ren took a slow breath, her eyes filled with an unspoken weight. And Starfania felt—before Ren even spoke—that whatever came next would change everything.