Part 1: Council of Rising Storms
The Realm Castle's Hall of Flame shimmered with ancient light. Twelve obsidian braziers floated mid-air, casting shadows across a circular table etched with Iveryn runes. Magical scrolls hovered beside each seat, recording every word uttered within.
The war council had begun.
Seated with authority was Queen Ivera, her golden-brown braid tied with crimson thread—sign of wartime command. To her left sat Lysenne, calm but ever-watchful. Along the curve of the table sat the Minority Kingdom rulers—twelve in all, cloaked in silks, armor, or prayer robes. Behind them stood generals, mistresses of espionage, and scholars of war.
Queen Ivera stood.
"We face more than swords and flames," she said, her voice echoing with clarity. "We face an enemy who strikes from shadows, poisons alliances, and steals our people."
Gasps rippled through the hall.
"Dravaryn moves against us—not only by blade, but by fear. Queen Elara of Elaris has made her choice. She summons Dragon Hunters. Not to fight Varyn. But to unleash a hunt of her own."
Lord Tarn, King of the northern frost realm, leaned forward. "Is it true she offered gold to Mirevian scouts?"
"She did," Lysenne confirmed. "And what she seeks is not beasts. It is one girl."
Elysera.
Nyx.
Or both.
Queen Ivera continued, "We cannot waste time waiting. We must fortify the borderlands, train every soldier, and above all—protect our daughters. The flame of Iveryn will not die."
One by one, the Minority Kings rose.
King Dorin of Varethin: "We will send 300 fire-archers and our swiftest shipmages to defend the coast."
Queen Asha of Nelmorin: "My high priestesses will bless the lands with protective sigils."
Lord Huron of Ironreach: "Our steel miners are crafting reinforced armor. No dragon's claw shall pierce it."
And at last, King Saren of the Shadowmark Isles: "Give me the names of the spies. I'll erase them by dusk."
Queen Ivera nodded. "Then it begins."
But just as the meeting closed, a soft voice murmured behind her—
"Should I curtsy, Your Majesty? Or just begin serving?"
All eyes turned.
Standing in the doorway was Nirelle, the elven dragon-tamer. Her silver hair fluttered in the wind, armor shaped like feathers across her shoulders. Beside her stood a regal beast—Queen Ivera's personal dragon, breath steaming through its nostrils.
Ivera smiled. "You're right on time."
Part 2: The Fourth Flame
Later that evening, Nirelle stood awkwardly in the grand bathing hall, steam rising around marble columns. Lysenne motioned her in.
"You're Elysera's now. That means you serve as I served the Queen."
Nirelle blinked. "With respect… I tamed dragons, not towels."
Lysenne chuckled softly. "You'll do both."
She moved to the edge of the bath where Nyx, Elysera, and Lira were laughing, shoulders bare beneath the steaming water.
Lira spotted Nirelle. "And who's this feathered storm?"
Nyx smirked. "The dragon-girl, right?"
"I'm not a girl," Nirelle muttered. "I'm a knight."
Elysera swam over. "You're both. Come, your armor won't melt. But you might."
Moments later, laughter echoed. The four soaked under waterfalls and magic oils, Nirelle finally relaxing as Lysenne braided her damp hair with charm threads.
"You'll protect them," Lysenne said quietly. "Not just with sword. But voice. Presence. Grace."
Nirelle nodded. "I understand."
Lira grinned, raising an eyebrow. "And if she forgets, we'll dunk her."
Part 3: Soldiers of Tomorrow
The next day, the castle courtyard roared with life. Hundreds of soldiers trained under Elysera's commands—shield walls, elemental casting, beast-squad drills. Archers from Nelmorin formed moon-symbol formations. Sword dancers from Ironreach whirled in storm-like rhythm.
Near the gates, a boy no older than nine watched them.
A soldier noticed. "You're not supposed to be near the field."
"But… why are you here?" the boy asked, wide-eyed. "Are monsters coming?"
The soldier knelt, his face rough with scars. "Yes. But we'll stand between you and them. That's what soldiers do."
"Even if you get hurt?"
"Especially then."
The boy hugged him. "Then I'll be a soldier one day too."
Part 4: Blade of Memory, Blade of Flame
As dusk painted the skies violet, Queen Ivera summoned Nyx to the garden of twilight thorns.
"I've waited for this," she said.
She unsheathed a blade—silver and black, light dancing over butterfly-wing etchings.
"This was gifted to me by a friend long gone. When I became Queen, I infused it with starlight, with elderfire… and with blood. Butterfly blood."
Nyx gasped.
"This blade chooses not the strongest, but the one who carries pain like art."
She handed it to Nyx.
"I name it Nox Aella. And now it is yours."
Lira's voice chimed from behind: "Butterfly blade for a butterfly-cut girl. Fitting."
Lysenne smirked. "You two bicker like sisters."
"We are," Nyx and Elysera said at once.
Then all four—Nyx, Elysera, Lira, and Nirelle—stood in a circle. A new bond.
Final Part: Whispers of the Edge
That night, Ren stood before Queen Ivera, arms crossed.
"I have the map. And the key. But you must understand—if I go… I might not return."
Ivera placed her hand on his chest.
"You were born in shadows, Ren. But now… you walk for the light."
She gave him a scroll with a wax seal and whispered: "Find the firegate. Before Varyn does."
Meanwhile, in Elaris, Queen Elara held a scale the size of a tower tile. It shimmered with crimson memory.
"Dragon hunters were just the beginning," she said to the masked sorcerer at her side. "I don't want dragons. I want their gods."
The sorcerer bowed. "And if Iveryn stands in your way?"
"We burn it," Elara whispered. "One wing at a time."
To be continued ..