Feralium — Dust Road Outside Bonebreaker Tavern

  The wagon tore down the road, wheels screaming over stones. Hooded figures laughed, slapping hands like idiots who already spent the money.

  “We did it. We actually did it.”

  “Hideout. Now.”

  Isaac dropped from the sky like a knife.

  One thief heard the air shift and started to rise—

  “Wait—there’s someone on t—”

  Too late.

  Isaac grabbed him by the chest piece and hurled him off the wagon like he weighed nothing. The man hit the dirt and rolled out of sight.

  Isaac sat down beside the driver like this was a normal ride.

  The second thief froze, eyes wide. One hand tightened on the reins, the other snapped a knife up.

  Isaac caught the knife wrist.

  The thief tried to jerk free.

  He drove a fist into the thief’s face.

  The man went limp instantly—dead weight.

  But his hand yanked the reins as he dropped.

  The wagon snapped sideways.

  “Damn—”

  The wheels lifted.

  The whole thing started to flip.

  Isaac lunged, planting his feet hard, shoulder into the wood. His arms locked around the frame as it tipped—muscles shaking, boots carving trenches in the dirt.

  The wagon groaned like it was about to split.

  Isaac forced it back down.

  Wood cracked.

  Iron screamed.

  Then it slammed upright again, barely.

  The beasts pulling it—strange, lean creatures—panicked the moment the wagon went light. Harnesses snapped loose and they bolted into the open fields, fast and low like they’d been waiting for an excuse.

  Isaac stood there, breathing through his nose, dust on his lashes.

  He watched them vanish into the horizon.

  “…Seriously?” he muttered. “Now I have to chase you too?”

  He started walking.

  Two steps.

  Then he stopped.

  Because the trees around the road weren’t quiet anymore.

  A soft scrape. A heavy breath. Leaves shifting where there shouldn’t be wind.

  Isaac’s eyes lifted.

  A shadow dropped from above.

  It hit the ground standing.

  The impact kicked up a thick cloud of dust. Isaac raised an arm to shield his face, squinting through the haze.

  Big.

  Too big.

  A hulking figure in a hood—built like a wall—with a blunt horn shape pushing the fabric forward.

  A humanoid rhinoceros.

  It rolled its shoulders once, slow, like it had all the time in the world.

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  A heavy chain slid off its arm and crashed to the dirt with a metallic thud.

  The beast wrapped it around its fist, links tightening until it became a weapon.

  Its voice came out rough and pleased.

  “We’ll fix the trash that thinks he’s a hero.”

  Isaac stared at the chain, then at the horned hood.

  His expression didn’t change.

  He only shifted his stance—one foot back, shoulders loose, ready.

  “…Alright.” He nodded once. “Let’s do this.”

  Paradise — Calindra’s Palace — Grand Hall

  Calindra’s guards slammed into Yae’s formation before the invaders could regroup. Steel rang so loud it swallowed the screams.

  A Paradise guard ducked a wild slash and drove his blade up under a visor—one clean thrust. A Yae soldier stiffened, gurgled, then dropped.

  Two more tried to surround him. He didn’t back up. He stepped in instead, shoulder-checking the first, then cutting across the second’s throat. Blood sprayed the marble and the body slid down the pillar like it was suddenly too heavy to exist.

  Across the hall, a pair of Calindra’s guards fought back-to-back—short, tight strikes, disciplined footwork. One of Yae’s men lunged with a spear.

  The Paradise guard caught the spear shaft with his left hand, yanked, and buried a sword into the man’s ribs. The spear clattered. The invader collapsed, choking on air.

  Yae’s soldiers started falling fast—one by one, not in heroic duels, but in ugly, final mistakes.

  A guard from Paradise got his arm split open and still kept moving. He used the pain as momentum, headbutting an invader in the faceplate, then finishing him with a stab through the gap at the neck.

  Within seconds, the floor was littered with bodies and broken weapons. The few invaders still standing hesitated—eyes flicking to Yae like they were waiting for permission to keep breathing.

  And Calindra walked through the chaos toward Yae like the noise didn’t matter.

  Their blades met.

  The sound was different—cleaner, heavier.

  Calindra didn’t swing big. She cut angles. She forced Yae to move where she wanted.

  Yae answered with speed and pressure, trying to break rhythm, trying to bully her way through.

  Calindra slipped a slash that should’ve split her cheek and returned a strike that shaved hair off Yae’s shoulder.

  Yae’s eyes narrowed.

  Yae attacked low—Calindra jumped back. Yae followed immediately, blade rising—Calindra turned her wrist and parried so hard the impact vibrated into Yae’s elbow.

  Yae tried to shove in close.

  Calindra kicked the inside of her knee.

  Yae’s leg buckled for half a second—just enough.

  Calindra’s sword flashed.

  Yae twisted away, but the edge still caught her forearm, opening it. Blood ran down to her glove.

  Yae hissed through her teeth and swung again, angry now.

  Calindra met it.

  One more parry.

  A hard step.

  Then Calindra struck Yae’s sword hand with the flat of her blade like a hammer.

  Yae’s fingers went numb.

  Her sword slipped.

  Metal hit the floor.

  Yae dropped with it, landing on one knee, then the other—shock in her face as she looked down at her empty hand.

  Around them, what was left of Yae’s guards were getting butchered. A Paradise guard finished one with a cut to the hamstring, then a quiet thrust to the heart.

  Yae’s breathing turned rough.

  “No…” she muttered, staring at her soldiers dying like they were nothing.

  Calindra advanced, blade leveled at her throat.

  “Enough.” Calindra’s voice was sharp, controlled. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

  Yae didn’t answer right away.

  Her hair hung over her eyes, hiding her expression. Her shoulders shook once—not fear. Rage.

  She inhaled.

  “Fine.”

  Calindra didn’t move her sword away.

  Yae’s pupils brightened—blue flooding in like a storm rolling over the sea.

  Her lips pulled back. Teeth sharpened, lengthening into something wrong for a human mouth.

  Smoke seeped off her skin in thin trails, like heat bleeding through cracks.

  Then—sparks.

  A pressure hit the hall.

  Not wind. Not magic light.

  A raw electric shove that knocked nearby guards off their feet and sent loose weapons skittering across the floor.

  Calindra dropped into a lower stance, forearm raised to shield her face, boots sliding half an inch from the force.

  Her eyes widened.

  “A dragon…”

  Yae rose.

  Her body swelled, bones shifting with audible cracks. Her arms thickened, shoulders widening. Nails grew into black claws. The smoke thickened.

  Then the transformation finished like a door slamming.

  A full dragon stood where the queen had been—massive, towering, scales catching the palace light. The air turned hot around her head, heat building with every breath.

  The palace trembled under the weight of her roar.

  Far away, in the throne chamber, Arian jolted upright as the tremor reached him.

  Back in the hall, Calindra looked up at the dragon’s lowered head—trying to read the intent in those bright, cold eyes.

  Yae opened her jaws.

  The air in front of her mouth warped.

  A particle of energy sparked into existence—tiny at first—then grew, fed by heat and crackling power, condensing into a destructive sphere that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  Calindra snapped her head to her guards.

  “Move!”

  She grabbed one by the collar and shoved him hard.

  “Out! Now!”

  The guards sprinted. Some dragged the wounded. Others ran without looking back.

  Calindra stayed long enough to raise her hand toward Yae—light gathering fast, sharp and focused.

  “Don’t—”

  The sphere swelled again.

  Calindra’s magic flared.

  Space snapped.

  Yae vanished.

  Valoon — Open Ocean

  Yae reappeared midair over endless water—still holding that growing sphere in her mouth.

  For half a second, she didn’t understand where she was.

  Then the energy ball fired.

  It hit the ocean like a falling star.

  A blinding explosion ripped upward—violent, atomic in force—throwing a wall of water into the sky. The shockwave slammed into Yae’s chest and knocked her back through the air.

  She spread her wings to stabilize, huge wingbeats cutting the surface below and whipping the ocean into spirals.

  Her head snapped side to side, searching.

  Only sea.

  Then, far in the distance—land.

  Yae’s wings struck hard.

  She angled toward the coastline and flew, fast and furious, leaving the boiling water behind.