The Dragon Kingdom never slept.

  Even at dawn, the entire slope-city shimmered with dripping water, sheets of it rolling down stone pathways and carved channels. The air tasted like mineral and mist. Every roof, wall, and bridge dripped like it breathed.

  The king’s words echoed in Pyrope’s head:

  “I will let you all stay for one month. No more.”

  It wasn’t a threat.

  It was law.

  Rhaikor Duskscale had found them a temporary barrack room—dry enough to sleep, close enough to the training yard to eliminate excuses.

  Tidewhisper stretched with a soft sigh.

  “I’ve stayed in many places. Never one that… leaks on purpose. Who would think the Dragon Kingdom isn’t actually a scary place.”

  “It’s not leaking,” Rhaikor corrected, his left eye on Tidewhisper and his right eye sweeping the corridor behind them.

  “It is direction. Flow. This kingdom is strongest in water.”

  Pyrope glanced outside.

  Reptile hybrids raced up vertical wet stone as if flat ground.

  Others swam through underground channels beneath glass floors.

  A lizard officer leapt three stories with wet claws gripping the wall.

  It was beautiful.

  And terrifying.

  A week ago, Pyrope couldn’t even stand straight on these floors.

  Now, he could run.

  Morning — The Hunt Begins

  Rhaikor led them out through the lower gate, where a river split into braided paths.

  Humidity thickened the air, carrying the sharp scent of algae.

  “Today you will hunt,” Rhaikor said. “A simple target.”

  “Simple for you, maybe,” Tidewhisper murmured.

  Rhaikor ignored him.

  The water trembled.

  A faint, sharp clicking rose from beneath the surface.

  Pyrope stiffened.

  He recognized that sound from old wetlands near Havenroot…

  Giant Water Bugs.

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  Dozens of them surfaced at once—flat, brown, oval bodies floating like fallen leaves.

  Then came the others:

  Dragonfly nymphs, armored and alien-looking, lurking just under the waterline.

  Whirligig beetles, spinning wildly across the surface in frantic circular patterns.

  Tidewhisper’s eyes widened.

  “These species don’t gather together like this. Not naturally.”

  Rhaikor’s expression tightened.

  “Something is disturbing the region.”

  He didn’t say what.

  But Pyrope felt the truth pressing against his ribs.

  Something, somewhere, was pushing nature into imbalance.

  And he knew the name of that something—

  even if no one else did.

  The First Kill

  Rhaikor stepped back, arms folding.

  “Pyrope. You lead.”

  The waterbugs clicked loudly—a metallic, unnatural chorus.

  Pyrope inhaled.

  His instincts rose—

  the same instincts awakened during the raid,

  the same instinct Severus recognized.

  A Giant Water Bug darted toward him, forelegs snapping open like a mantis.

  Tidewhisper reached for his staff.

  Pyrope moved.

  Not with that unstable burst.

  Not with panic.

  Just trained movement—clean, efficient.

  His foot slid forward on the wet stone—

  instead of slipping, he used the water to pivot.

  His heel struck upward.

  Crack.

  The water bug flipped and floated lifelessly.

  Rhaikor nodded with genuine approval.

  “Good. Controlled. No oversurge.”

  Pyrope’s chest trembled with relief.

  Then the water erupted again.

  Whirligig beetles scattered in chaotic circles.

  Dragonfly nymphs shot upward, extendable jaws snapping.

  More water bugs lunged from below.

  Rhaikor unsheathed his spear.

  “Do not fear the creatures.

  Fear losing yourself.”

  The fight was a blur:

  Tidewhisper knocking beetles aside with careful, measured strikes

  Rhaikor spearing three water bugs with a single thrust

  Pyrope weaving, dodging, striking with rhythm and breath

  When the last nymph sank beneath the water, the surface went still again.

  Tidewhisper panted.

  “Is… is this normal?”

  “No,” Rhaikor said gently.

  “It is not.”

  Pyrope looked to the horizon.

  Something felt wrong.

  Not here.

  Far away.

  Like the world itself was cracking.

  Nightfall — Rumors from the Slope

  The kingdom tavern buzzed with low tension.

  Rowan spoke first, ears low.

  “Three caravans missing from the valley. Two towns in the north stopped sending messages.”

  Lira’s voice trembled.

  “Is it… the raiders?”

  Rowan didn’t answer.

  Tidewhisper did.

  “No. Something more organized.”

  Pyrope tightened his grip around his cup.

  He had overheard passing guards earlier:

  —Rat and Ox Kingdoms mobilizing early battalions

  —Snake and Goat Kingdoms reporting disappearances

  —Rooster patrols spotting movement in abandoned villages

  Unrest was spreading.

  Someone was doing this.

  Someone who hummed when he walked.

  A Quiet Realization

  Outside, the night was thick with mist.

  Rowan finally spoke.

  “If even the Dragon Kingdom is on edge… this is far beyond simple raids.”

  Tidewhisper nodded grimly.

  “The disturbances spread in a circle. Outward.”

  He paused.

  “As if something is expanding.”

  Pyrope’s heart clenched.

  He saw Severus’s face in his mind—

  the calm amber eye,

  the polite voice,

  the interest.

  The humming.

  “He’s moving,” Pyrope whispered.

  “And we’re running out of places that can stop him.”

  Rhaikor appeared behind them, silent as always.

  “One month,” he repeated.

  “Then you leave this kingdom.”

  His two independent eyes locked onto Pyrope.

  “Because whether you wish it or not…”

  A pause.

  “…you are already part of whatever comes next.”

  Pyrope felt cold.

  Not fear.

  Recognition.

  The creatures are wrong.

  The patterns are wrong.

  The silence after the fight? Even more wrong.

  Your support means more than you know.

  See you in the next chapter—

  and stay careful near the water. It’s watching.