The sun pierced the horizon with reluctant fingers, casting an amber glow over the estate gates as three figures stepped into the world beyond their sanctuary. Ethan, Elijah, and Jonathan moved like shadows reborn from fire and lightning, the crisp morning breeze brushing against their clothes, carrying with it a strange quiet that didn't sit right. Not today.
Jonathan's eyes gleamed with new light—his irises slightly brighter than before, tinged faintly with golden streaks invisible to most mortals. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the world, still processing the memory of King Michael's presence, the pain of his awakening, and the strength he now felt coursing through him. Though not yet a dragon, Mana had began to stir inside him. His footsteps felt lighter, the world slower.
"Feel weird?" Ethan asked quietly, eyes forward as they walked toward the car.
Jonathan gave a tight nod. "It's like… everything's louder. Sharper. I can feel the grass brushing my shoes."
"That's the mana," Elijah said in his calm, cold voice. Your soul has started waking up. Be thankful. It could've gone worse."
"I was slammed into the floor and force-fed dragon magic by a monarch," Jonathan muttered. His lips twisted into a bitter smile.
Ethan chuckled. "You landed on your feet, didn't you?" Besides at least he didn't eat you. He could have definitely eaten you, Ethan's voice a mocking tone.
Jonathan shuddered at the thought of being devoured by a dragon. Ethan's terrible form coming to mind.
They reached the sleek obsidian vehicle parked at the edge of the estate. King Michael stood beside it, arms crossed, eyes narrowed beneath a curtain of silver-black hair. His presence wasn't hot like Ethan's or electric like Elijah's—it was suffocating. Quiet. Like a singularity of force pressed into human form.
"You have your note," Michael asked, not looking at them. As he got into the car.
"Yes, sir," all three said in unison. Even Jonathan.
They climbed into the car. It glided from the estate grounds like a shadow on wheels, moving toward Wyrmwood High. The ride was silent, save for the hum of magic-infused tech buried in the dashboard. Jonathan clutched the note in his hand—elegant, crisp parchment sealed with the royal dragon crest. The words inside excused their absence with one line: please excuse the absence of, Ethan Sinn,Elijah Sinn and Jonathan Vagu, sincerely,Michael Sinn
At the school office, the three boys stepped in, slightly late. The secretary Carolyn looked up with narrowed eyes and perfectly trimmed bangs. "Gentlemen," she said flatly.
"Sorry we're late," Ethan said politely. "We have a note."
She opened it. Her eyes flicked across the paper once. Twice. She blinked and smiled,
"You're excused," she said immediately. "Go on."
As they walked out of the office, Jonathan exhaled. "That woman terrifies me."
"Everyone has someone," Ethan muttered.
As they turned the corner, a new presence approached. Saraphina.
She wore tight black athletic pants and a navy-blue cropped hoodie, hair up in a fierce ponytail. Her eyes—dark crimson, lined with a smirk—met Elijah's. Then Jonathan's. Her glance lingered… and narrowed.
"Elijah," she said, stepping beside them without asking. "Jonathan." Her tone was thick with unspoken challenge.
Elijah raised a brow. "Stalking us now?"
"Just walking with friends," she said innocently, though the curve of her lip said otherwise. "Besides, I thought we'd catch up. We have a lot to talk about."
Jonathan glanced between them, sensing something charged. But before he could speak, the bell rang, and the halls thinned.
Martial Arts Class – 3rd Period
Sweat clung to skin. The sounds of sparring shoes scraping the mat echoed through the gym. Ethan was partnered with a mortal, his movements lazy but graceful. He didn't want to break anyone today.
Elijah, meanwhile, was holding a conversation with his fists. Saraphina, his partner, cracked a smirk with each blocked punch and dodge.
"You're holding back," she whispered, ducking a spinning elbow.
"I don't want to break your jaw," he replied coolly, launching a leg sweep she leapt over.
She landed, hands low. "Coward."
He snapped a jab to her collarbone, stopping an inch short. "Say it again."
She laughed.
Their movements blurred, rapid exchanges of kicks, feints, and clinches. It was like watching a language unfold—violent and graceful. A spark flickered between their blows.
After class, Saraphina towel-dried her arms and stepped closer. Her tone lowered.
"We had a visitor last week," she said. "A Lich."
Elijah didn't move.
"Alexander Dread-Rot," she continued. "He offered my clan an alliance. Promised immortality. Power. A new world where mortals serve or die."
"What did your father say?"
"He told him to crawl back to whatever crypt he came from."
Elijah's jaw flexed slightly. "So the Blood Fang Clan values honor."
"We don't feed on unwilling mortals," she said firmly. "We never have. And we're open to negotiations—with dragons."
His gaze finally met hers. "You'll come with me to the palace. My father needs to hear this. This Lich… he's playing games he doesn't understand."
She nodded. "Of course."
"You've earned my respect, Serafi." He said it without ceremony, but it hit like a bell through steel. "You're under my protection now. Not that you need it. But if anyone touches you… I'll end them."
Thunder cracked faintly outside.
She blinked once. Then smiled. "I'll remember that."
Art Class – 5th Period
Jonathan sat beside Moka, who as always, was drawing in near-silence. Her hair cascaded like white silk, and her eyes—icy blue and impossibly deep—rarely left her paper.
But today, she didn't draw.
She stared at him.
Jonathan finally glanced sideways. "Do I have paint on my face?"
"No," she said quietly. "You're glowing."
"…I what?"
"Your mana," she said. "It's everywhere. Your aura's leaking like an open faucet."
Jonathan looked down at his hands. "Seriously?"
"You're awakened," she said. "I can feel it."
He hesitated. "I… can't talk about it."
"I figured," she said with a small smile. "Your loyalty speaks louder than words. I won't pry."
He blinked. "You're not mad?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm impressed. Most mortals wouldn't keep that kind of secret."
A quiet pause settled between them.
Then she leaned closer. "But you do need to get that under control. I can help."
Jonathan tilted his head. "How?"
She gently pressed her fingers to his temple. "Memory transfer spell. It won't hurt. You'll know a basic mana circulation technique. It'll stop the leaks."
He nodded. "Okay."
She whispered a word. Light glowed beneath her fingers, then vanished. Jonathan blinked hard. The knowledge was there—like muscle memory imprinted into his soul.
"Try it," she whispered.
He focused. Breathed. And suddenly… silence. His aura dimmed. Contained.
"Holy crap," he muttered. "That's amazing."
"You're welcome," she said softly.
Lunch – The Courtyard
Sophie sat at a bench, poking her salad without appetite. Her eyes drifted toward the center of the courtyard where Ethan, Elijah, Jonathan, Saraphina, and Moka sat together—laughing, heads bent in private talk.
Something stung.
They were closer now. The girls she once dismissed as too quiet or too wild were now part of the inner circle. And Ethan… looked so natural among them. So right.
She didn't approach. Not yet. But her heart leaned forward. Watching. Yearning. She made a silent vow to approach him tomorrow.
After School the Sunset was already Falling.
The group stood near the school gates.
Jonathan called his mom. "Hey, yeah. I'm heading back to Ethan's for a study thing. Yeah. I'll call you later."
Saraphina texted her father: Going to the Dragon Estate. Will return later.
Moka wrote one word to her contact: Safe.
Then, together, the five of them walked—quiet and bonded by new threads of fate—toward the estate where dragons dream and wars are remembered. Where thunder waits, and fire breathes softly behind ancient walls.
The veil between worlds thinned just a little more.
And the storm behind the stars… began to whisper.