Morning comes too quickly.
I wake to the soft glow of bioluminescent crystals filtering through the dwelling Arsenal's people provided for us. Ghatak is already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, his dark eyes fixed on the luminous cavern beyond the window.
"Couldn't sleep?" I ask, my voice still rough with exhaustion.
He glances back at me, his expression unreadable. "Too much to process."
I understand. Yesterday we discovered my sister created an entire civilization while suffering from complete amnesia. We reunited Arsenal with thirty of his children after two thousand years of separation. We learned that eighty-five dragon children are still missing, their location and fate unknown.
One crisis at a time.
I rise and dress quickly, pulling on the practical traveling clothes we brought from Draconis. Outside, I can hear the settlement beginning to stir—voices calling to one another, the sound of footsteps on stone, the gentle hum of daily life.
"We need to find Kael and the guides," I say. "Thank them properly before they leave."
Ghatak nods. "And then?"
"Then we build something permanent here. A gateway. A connection between Thronkaville and Draconis that doesn't require me to tear open reality every time someone wants to cross."
His lips curve slightly. "Ambitious."
"Necessary," I counter. "If we're going to hunt for Bia across Aerox, we can't be constantly returning here to maintain portals. The people of Thronkaville need reliable access to Draconis. And Draconis needs access to them."
"You're binding the settlements together."
"I'm building an empire," I say flatly. "One connection at a time."
We find Kael and his fellow guides near the settlement's main entrance, preparing their packs for the return journey. The scarred man looks up as we approach, his weathered face creasing into something that might be a smile.
"Princess," he says, inclining his head. "We were just about to seek you out."
"To say goodbye?" I ask.
"To settle accounts," he corrects. "We fulfilled our contract. Brought you to Thronkaville as promised."
I reach into the dimensional pocket I've woven into my clothing—a small tear in space where I store currency and valuables—and withdraw a heavy pouch of platinum coins. The agreed-upon payment, calculated precisely.
Then I withdraw a second pouch. Heavier. More generous.
Kael's eyes widen slightly as I press both into his hands.
"The first is the remainder of your payment," I say. "The second is gratitude. You guided us through a sandstorm, helped us survive a sandworm attack, and brought us safely to our destination. That deserves more than the standard rate."
The other guides exchange glances, their expressions shifting from professional neutrality to genuine surprise.
"This is... generous," Kael says carefully. "More than generous."
"You earned it," I say simply. "And I pay my debts in full."
He weighs the pouches in his hands, then nods slowly. "It's been an honor, Princess. If you ever need guides again—"
"I'll know where to find you," I finished. "Travel safely back to the settlement. And if anyone asks about Thronkaville..."
"We saw nothing," Kael says immediately. "Just desert and ruins. Nothing worth reporting."
Good. The last thing this hidden settlement needs is attention from Aerox's vampire hierarchy.
I watch as the guides shoulder their packs and begin the long trek back through the cavern tunnels toward the surface. Kael pauses at the threshold, glancing back one last time.
"Find her," he says quietly. "The Silver Mother. She deserves to know who she is."
Then he's gone, disappearing into the shadows with his companions.
Ghatak moves to stand beside me. "They'll keep the secret."
"I know," I say. "Kael's smart enough to understand what's at stake."
"And now?"
"Now we build."
The central plaza of Thronkaville is a marvel of organic architecture—buildings that seem to grow from the cavern floor itself, their walls smooth and curved like living things. At the heart of the plaza stands a raised platform of dark stone, worn smooth by centuries of use.
Arsenal stands nearby with his children—all forty of them now, the ten from Concord and the thirty we freed from Bia's protective wards. They watch with curious eyes as I step onto the platform, Ghatak at my side.
The woman who guided us yesterday—the elder with silver-streaked hair—approaches cautiously. "What are you doing, Princess?"
"Creating a gateway," I say. "A permanent portal between Thronkaville and Draconis. Your people shouldn't have to rely on me tearing open dimensional rifts every time they want to visit the surface world."
Her eyes widened. "A permanent portal? Is such a thing possible?"
"For me?" I glance at Ghatak. "Yes."
I close my eyes and reach for my chaos magic—that wild, untamed power that lets me reshape reality itself. It responds instantly, flooding through me like liquid fire, eager and hungry.
But I don't want wild chaos. I want controlled structure.
I shape the magic carefully, weaving it into a specific pattern. Not a tear in reality, but a fold. A place where two locations exist simultaneously, overlapping in a way that defies conventional physics.
The air above the platform begins to shimmer.
"Ghatak," I say quietly. "I need your void magic. To anchor it."
He steps forward without hesitation, his own power rising to meet mine. Where my chaos magic is wild and creative, his void magic is absolute and consuming. Together, they create a perfect balance—creation and negation, existence and absence.
The shimmer intensifies, taking on a violet hue shot through with threads of absolute darkness.
I speak the words of binding, my voice resonating with power:
"Let distance collapse. Let separation end. Let Thronkaville and Draconis exist as one, connected by will and magic. Let those who bear the mark of my blessing pass freely between worlds."
The magic surges, and suddenly the air tears—not violently, but deliberately, like fabric being carefully cut along a seam. Through the opening, I can see Draconis. The restored palace. The gardens. The pristine streets of the capital city.
But this isn't a temporary portal. This is something more.
I weave additional layers of magic into the structure—wards that will prevent unauthorized passage, recognition spells that will identify those permitted to cross, stabilization enchantments that will keep the gateway open indefinitely.
And then, because I'm nothing if not thorough, I add a failsafe: a connection to my own life force. As long as I live, this gateway will remain stable. If I die... well. That's a problem for another day.
The magic settles, solidifying into a permanent structure. The gateway hovers above the platform, a shimmering oval of violet and black that shows Draconis on the other side.
I step back, breathing hard. Creating something this complex, this permanent, takes more energy than simply tearing open a temporary rift.
Ghatak's hand finds mine, steadying me. "It's beautiful," he murmurs.
The elderly woman approaches the gateway slowly, her expression awed. "We can... just walk through?"
"Anyone I've marked with my blessing," I confirm. "Which includes everyone currently living in Thronkaville. You're all connected to me now through the magic I used to break Bia's barrier. The gateway will recognize you."
She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing the shimmering surface. The magic ripples but doesn't resist. She could step through right now if she wanted.
"This is..." She trails off, shaking her head. "I don't have words."
"It's practical," I say. "Thronkaville has been isolated for two thousand years. That ends now. You're part of something larger. Part of my civilization."
Arsenal steps forward, his serpentine eyes fixed on the gateway. "You're giving them freedom."
"I'm giving them options," I correct. "They can stay here if they choose. Or they can relocate to Draconis. Or they can move between both worlds as they please. The choice is theirs."
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone more..." He searches for the word. "Tyrannical. You're a dragon princess. A being of immense power. I thought you'd simply command and expect obedience."
I smile slightly. "I'm pragmatic, Arsenal. Tyranny breeds rebellion. Freedom breeds loyalty. I'd rather have people choose to follow me than force them into submission."
"Even though you could force them?"
"Especially because I could force them," I say. "Power without restraint is just destruction. I've seen what that looks like. I won't repeat those mistakes."
He nods slowly, something like respect flickering in his eyes.
We spend the next hour explaining the gateway's function to the gathered crowd. The people of Thronkaville listen with rapt attention as I describe Draconis—the restored cities, the thriving ecosystems, the opportunities for those willing to relocate.
Some are eager. Others are hesitant. A few are openly skeptical.
Good, I think. Skepticism means they're thinking for themselves.
When the explanations are finished, I turn to Arsenal. "We need to talk. Privately."
He nods and gestures for his children to stay with the crowd. Then he follows Ghatak and me to a quieter corner of the plaza, away from the press of bodies.
"You're leaving," he says. It's not a question.
"To hunt for Bia," I confirm. "We have leads—locations where she's been seen, patterns in her movements. The longer we wait, the colder the trail gets."
"And you want me to stay here."
"I want you to make your own choice," I say. "But yes. Thronkaville needs leadership, especially now that they have access to Draconis. There will be questions, logistics to manage, people who need guidance as they decide whether to stay or go."
"You want me to be a steward."
"I want you to protect what your mate built," I say bluntly. "Even if she doesn't remember building it. These people are hers, Arsenal. Her legacy. And they're your children's home."
He's quiet, his gaze distant. "How long?"
"I don't know," I admit. "We'll track Bia as far as we need to. Days. Weeks. However long it takes."
"And after you find her?"
"We bring her back here. Help her understand what she created. And then..." I pause. "Then we figure out what comes next. Together."
He nods slowly. "I'll stay. For now. But I want regular updates. If you find her, if you learn anything about the missing children, I need to know immediately."
"Agreed," I say. "And Arsenal? When this is over—when we've found Bia and solved the mystery of your missing children—I'll need you on Draconis. You and your family. You're too valuable to leave isolated in a cavern."
His lips curve slightly. "Recruiting me already?"
"I recruit everyone worth recruiting," I say. "It's what I do."
Ghatak clears his throat. "We should leave soon. The northern forests are at least two days' travel from here, and we'll need to move quickly if we want to pick up Bia's trail."
Arsenal extends his hand. "Find her, Princess. Bring her home."
I clasp his hand firmly. "I will. I promise."
We return to our dwelling to gather our supplies. It doesn't take long—we travel light, carrying only what we need in dimensional pockets woven into our clothing.
As I'm checking my weapons, Ghatak moves behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders.
"You're tense," he murmurs.
"I'm focused," I counter.
"You're worried."
I turn to face him. "Of course I'm worried. Bia's been wandering Aerox for two thousand years with no memory of who she is. She's vulnerable. Alone. And we still don't know what danger she was trying to protect her children from when she sealed them away."
"We'll find her," he says firmly. "And we'll keep her safe."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise I'll die trying," he says. "Just like I know you will."
I lean into him, letting his warmth anchor me. "I can't lose her again, Ghatak. Not after just finding out she's alive."
"You won't," he says. "We won't."
For a moment, we just stand there, holding each other in the soft glow of bioluminescent light. Then I pull back, forcing myself to focus.
"We should go," I say. "The longer we wait, the farther she gets."
He nods and follows me out of the dwelling.
The people of Thronkaville gather to see us off. It's a smaller crowd than before—many have already begun exploring the gateway, stepping through to Draconis with wide-eyed wonder—but those who remain watch with solemn respect.
Arsenal stands at the front with his children. The youngest—a girl who can't be more than a few centuries old—waves shyly.
I wave back, then turn toward the cavern tunnels that lead to the surface.
"North," I say to Ghatak. "Toward the forests. That's where the elder said Bia was last seen."
"Spiral Grove," he confirms. "Where the trees grow in patterns and the eggs are hidden."
We walk in silence for a while, leaving the bioluminescent glow of Thronkaville behind. The tunnels grow darker, lit only by the faint magical light Ghatak conjures.
"What do you think we'll find?" he asks eventually.
"Eggs," I say. "Definitely eggs. Bia's obsessed with them, even if she doesn't understand why. And maybe... maybe people who've seen her. Who can tell us where she went next."
"It's a hope and a luxury."
We emerge from the tunnels into the harsh desert sunlight. I shield my eyes, letting them adjust, then turn north.
In the distance, I can see the dark line of forest on the horizon.
Spiral Grove.
Where Bia hides her eggs.
Where we'll find the next piece of this puzzle.
"Ready?" Ghatak asks.
I nod. "Let's go find my sister's eggs."
And together, we begin the long walk north, leaving Thronkaville and its mysteries behind.
For now.
But I'll be back. With Bia. With answers.
With the truth about what happened two thousand years ago and why eighty-five dragon children are still missing.