Drakorya’s rings dimmed as the glowing illusions faded from the chamber.

  The weight of her words still hung thick in the air.

  She exhaled slowly, her storm-like presence easing just slightly.

  “That is enough for today,” she said at last.

  Her chains loosened.

  “Go play.”

  Ace blinked in surprise.

  Queen immediately lit up.

  “Yes, Mother!”

  Before Ace could even stand properly, Queen had already grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the exit.

  Vespera remained seated, silent as always, watching them leave.

  The corridors of the Valley were vast—alive with distant roars, echoes, and heat rising from volcanic vents far below.

  Queen skipped ahead happily, her tail swaying wildly behind her.

  “I’m hungry,” she said casually. “Let’s find something to eat.”

  Ace stared at her in disbelief.

  “That’s all you think about?” she asked. “After everything Mother just said?”

  Queen shrugged.

  “As long as I get to eat and don’t get yelled at, I don’t care how things work.”

  She grinned.

  “Life’s easier that way.”

  Ace couldn’t understand it.

  How could Queen be so carefree?

  So unconcerned?

  But she didn’t push further.

  Not yet.

  They had almost reached the outer halls when they heard it.

  A voice.

  Soft.

  Gentle.

  Almost… comforting.

  “Release us…”

  Ace froze.

  Queen tilted her head.

  The voice called again—closer, clearer, like it knew their names.

  “We need to be free…”

  It came from deeper within the Valley—past the chambers where hatchlings were forbidden to go.

  Without thinking, they followed it.

  They passed the council halls.

  Massive pillars carved with ancient dragon sigils loomed above them.

  No guards stopped them.

  No alarms sounded.

  Even the ward-runes carved into the stone didn’t flare the way they were supposed to.

  As if the Valley itself had decided to look away.

  At last they reached a sealed chamber.

  A colossal stone door stood before them, covered in glowing runes.

  The whisper pulsed through the air.

  “Open… the seal…”

  Ace stepped forward slowly.

  Her hand trembled.

  She reached toward the door—

  A massive shadow fell over them.

  A powerful claw yanked both girls back.

  “What are you doing?”

  They turned to see him.

  Their father.

  Scorched.

  A towering red-and-black elder dragon, his scales cracked with glowing embers like dying fire.

  He was powerful.

  Ancient.

  But there was something worn in his eyes.

  Something… defeated.

  He had once challenged Drakorya.

  And lost.

  He grabbed them both firmly, pulling them away from the chamber.

  “That place is forbidden,” he said sternly.

  Ace looked up at him.

  “Father… what’s behind that door?”

  Scorched hesitated.

  His expression darkened.

  “Ancient dragon deities,” he said quietly.

  “Beings who left this world… but whose power remains.”

  His voice lowered further.

  “In dragon terms, they are called the Dragons of Destruction.”

  Ace’s throat tightened.

  “And to outsiders,” Scorched added, like the words tasted wrong, “their remnants are known by another name.”

  He looked at the sealed door.

  “The Calamity Books.”

  His voice dropped into something like prayer—something like fear.

  “Ignivar — the Flame-Stride.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Raikoryn — the Storm-Sinner.”

  “Mirrathys — the Dream-Forger.”

  “Puppheryx — the String-Tyrant.”

  “Ecoryn — the Far-Seer.”

  “Miasdrake — the Plague-Heart.”

  His claws tightened slightly.

  Then he turned toward the largest carving on the chamber door—older than the rest, deeper cut, like the stone itself had resisted.

  “And last…”

  His voice fell to a whisper.

  “Celica.”

  “The Dragon Deity herself.”

  Ace listened wide-eyed.

  “These seven gave their lives to keep peace,” Scorched continued. “Or tried to.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “But Celica was… too much.”

  “Too hungry.”

  “Too alive.”

  “So the others sealed her away—because if she ever returns to the world…”

  He swallowed.

  “…she doesn’t just burn what’s in front of her.”

  “She pulls the world into her war.”

  Ace spoke before she could stop herself.

  “Father… was Celica really that dangerous?”

  She flinched immediately afterward, bracing for punishment.

  But none came.

  Instead, Scorched gently patted her head.

  “You are my children,” he said softly.

  “I would never harm you.”

  His voice carried a sadness she didn’t yet understand.

  “Others… may not have been so fortunate.”

  Queen walked toward the door.

  Curious.

  Unafraid.

  She placed her hands against the glowing seal.

  The runes flared.

  The chamber trembled.

  Scorched moved instantly—snatching her back like she weighed nothing.

  “Never touch that again!”

  Queen blinked in confusion.

  “But why?”

  Scorched’s voice grew grave.

  “Celica is unpredictable.”

  “If she falls into the wrong hands… she will use her holder to awaken what answers her.”

  His eyes darkened.

  “The Dark Dragon God.”

  “Lunara.”

  The name itself felt heavy.

  Like something the world feared.

  “There are other forces tied to the Calamities,” Scorched added quietly, as if even saying it risked being overheard.

  “The Sister-Series.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “But that… is a lesson for another day.”

  Before he could say more—

  a sharp hiss cut through the chamber.

  Kimpy landed heavily behind them.

  Without hesitation, she struck Scorched across the face.

  “You dare hold dragon children without permission?” she snarled.

  Scorched immediately bowed low.

  “I am sorry,” he said quickly. “They were near the chamber. I stopped them from opening it.”

  Penny stepped forward next.

  Her gaze fell on Queen.

  “Is this true?”

  Queen nodded slowly.

  “Yes…”

  Penny exhaled.

  “Return home,” she ordered. “We will discuss this later.”

  Then she looked at Scorched.

  “For now… you have prevented a disaster.”

  Ace and Queen walked back toward their mother’s chambers.

  Neither spoke.

  But Ace couldn’t shake the feeling—

  the whisper.

  the power.

  the fear in her father’s eyes.

  Even then…

  she knew.

  That door would one day open.

  And when it did—

  the world would never be the same.