Sunlight filtered through the canopy, weaving shifting glimmers across the sanctuary floor. The air was calm, humid, heavy with presence. Every leaf seemed to hold its breath.

  Garlan trained alone, torso slightly bent, breath deep. From a distance, Virellia watched in silence. He had learned to contain his fire, to bend it without smothering it. Today, he sought more.

  He closed his eyes, slowly shifting into draconic form: shoulders swelling, arms sheathed in dark scales, red eyes glowing. An inner pulse answered. He summoned his armor of wind.

  Then, in a muffled whisper, he called upon fire—not to release it, but to shape it.

  A reddish haze formed around him, unstable, like a cloak of stirred embers. He struggled to smooth it, flatten it. To turn it into a second skin. After long minutes, a fluid armor of fire coiled around him. Dense. Controlled. Alive.

  He held.

  Meanwhile, Marenna had slipped away in silence. Since the previous day, she had felt a soft pressure in her belly, her arms, as if something sought to grow.

  She found a hollow between two massive roots, carpeted in thick moss. She sat, closed her eyes.

  She did not meditate. She listened. She felt the flow of nature around her. Mana gathered. First like a breeze. Then like sap.

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  Her body responded. A gentle warmth—almost emotional—rose in her hands, then along her arms. She trembled, but without pain. Opening her eyes, she saw her skin faintly paling, shifting to a tender green.

  Fine scales began to bloom along the inside of her forearms, creeping slowly up toward her shoulders. She felt no fear.

  Back with Garlan, he still held. His dual armor made the air vibrate. But his muscles shook. Virellia said nothing, letting him push.

  He took one step. Another. Each step a test. The fire must not spill. Must not burn.

  Then he felt it. Not within. In the link.

  Marenna.

  He turned his head, heavy, and saw her in the distance, standing with arms slightly open. Trails of green mana rose around her. Her face calm. Serene.

  He faltered. His fire-armor cracked, then unraveled. He fell to his knees, gasping.

  — You held it for ten minutes, Virellia murmured. Far more than I expected.

  Garlan raised his eyes, fighting to stand.

  — She…

  — Yes, said Virellia.

  She walked toward Marenna.

  Marenna felt both weightless… and full. She lifted her gaze to Virellia.

  — I didn’t force it.

  — That’s why it is stable, the dragoness answered softly.

  She touched two fingers to Marenna’s arm.

  — These scales are natural. Not magical. Not imposed. They came from you. From the earth. You are changing.

  Marenna lowered her gaze to her arms. A quiet tear slid down her cheek.

  — Am I becoming a monster?

  — You are becoming alive.

  Garlan joined them, exhausted but standing. He slipped his fingers into hers without a word. She looked at him.

  — I think I understand what you feel, he whispered.

  She smiled.

  — No. You feel what I’m becoming.

  And the earth beneath their feet seemed to breathe with them.