The stars slid past the observation deck in a slow, silent river of light.
From here, with the noise of the hangars sealed off behind layered bulkheads, B.U.D.D.I.E.S. Headquarters almost felt peaceful. Almost. If you ignored the flickering red alerts crawling along the edge of the panoramic glass. If you ignored the data-feed showing the WhistleDawn and the Arrowheads blazing out into the dark.
Jimmy ignored none of it.
He stood with one hand resting on the railing, a half-eaten waffle in the other, eyes tracking the icons representing Alpha and Bravo Teams as they slipped out of local space.
"Danny, Swift, Jake…" he murmured. "Try not to break reality on the first lap."
"Reality has never required their help to crack," Eryndor Vaelric said quietly.
Sedge Hat—Eryndor now, mask discarded—stood a few paces away, long coat hanging straight, hands folded behind his back. The glow from the display screens painted sharp lines across his gaunt features, catching the age in his eyes that his body refused to show.
"They just… speed it along," Jimmy finished for him.
He sighed and took another bite of waffle.
The display shifted, tracking vectors as the two teams diverged. One sigil-streaked line curved toward the fractured sigil shrine. The other plunged into a dark corridor of unknown geometry.
Jimmy's gaze followed the darker line.
"Shadeclaw and Jade," he said. "Two maniacs with something to prove."
Eryndor's tone held the hint of a smile. "Shadeclaw will do more than prove something. He will survive, or he will die very loudly trying."
Jimmy snorted. "You sound almost proud."
"I understand him," Eryndor said. "He has lost much. He clings hard to what he has left."
He didn't say Mira's name.
He didn't have to.
Jimmy's datapad buzzed.
He flicked it open.
A grainy holocapture flickered to life—a brief, blurry clip from a cockpit feed: Jake yelling something about "NO, BUMBLE, DON'T LICK THE CONSOLE," followed by the little bot's cheerful beep and a brief cascade of sparks.
Jimmy closed the feed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"He'll be fine," Eryndor said.
"He is a bronze dragon child with a malfunctioning builder bot as his co-pilot," Jimmy replied. "Nothing about that sentence says 'fine' to me."
"You assigned them together," Eryndor pointed out.
"I am aware," Jimmy muttered.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the icons shrink as the ships crossed the boundary lines of HQ's long-range sensors.
The universe seemed to grow larger with every passing second.
"They will not be enough," Eryndor said finally.
Jimmy didn't ask who he meant. He knew.
"Alpha. Bravo." Eryndor's voice was calm. "They are powerful, yes. But they are not the only ones moving on the board."
Jimmy's expression tightened.
"You're thinking of the Wolf King," he said.
Eryndor nodded once. "He will have felt the shift. The storms in the Elemental Domain. The absence of Shadeclaw from his territory. But he does not yet know the shape of the threat."
"And if we wait for the news to trickle through normal channels," Jimmy said, "it will be too late to matter."
He stared at the dark beyond the glass.
"Alright," he murmured. "Fine."
He set the waffle on the railing with exaggerated care, as if that act alone marked the seriousness of the decision.
"Let's go see a king."
Eryndor inclined his head. "I will prepare the courier."
"Make it the fast one," Jimmy said. "Not the one with the polite inertial dampeners. I don't have time to hold on to my lunch."
"You already discarded your lunch," Eryndor observed, glancing at the abandoned waffle.
Jimmy picked it up and took another bite on principle.
"Symbolism," he said around the mouthful. "Very important."
He cast one last look at the tiny icons representing the kids—their kids now, whether he'd meant to adopt them or not—streaking into danger.
"Try not to do anything irreversible until I get back," he whispered.
Then he turned, coat swirling, and strode for the exit.
HQ's heart pulsed on behind him, vast and humming, as two more pieces left the board.
—
The B.U.D.D.I.E.S. diplomatic courier sliced through hyperspace like a needle through cloth, its streamlined hull glowing faintly with folded starlight. Inside, everything thrummed with a constant, low vibration that made the deck hum faintly underfoot.
Jimmy sat with his boots propped on the edge of the holotable, flipping through pages of paperwork that re-rendered themselves into glowing panels as he swiped. Eryndor stood near the forward viewport, watching the elongated smear of stars curve around them.
"Remind me," Jimmy said, "why I haven't outsourced this entire job to a small army of bureaucratic demigods."
"Because you do not trust anyone else to do it correctly," Eryndor replied.
Jimmy sighed. "I hate when you're right."
"You often hate when I am right," Eryndor said.
"That's because you're right about the annoying things," Jimmy muttered.
He flicked a document away, bringing up a tactical projection of the Elemental Domain. Proxy models rotated in the air—stormwreaths, ringed fortresses, sigil nodes fading from bright gold to dull gray.
"You said it before," Jimmy murmured. "Bones used you. Used your son. Used your planet. And now he's using them."
He tapped the projection where Danny's estimated position glowed.
"I will not let that cycle repeat," Eryndor said quietly.
"Good," Jimmy said. "Because I am very tired of running the same script."
The courier shuddered as it dropped into realspace, stars snapping back into points.
Ahead of them, an entire solar system spread out like a tapestry.
At its center burned a red-white sun, surrounded by a halo of asteroid debris shaped into precise, orbiting rings. Four major planets circled in wide arcs. One of them burned green with massive forests, glittering oceans, and chains of mountains that gleamed silver in the light.
"That one," Eryndor said.
Jimmy whistled. "Wolf King's been busy."
The ship angled down, cutting through the system toward the lush world.
As they approached, the scale of the Wolf King's dominion became clear: orbital fortresses shaped like snarling wolf heads, shipyards built into asteroids, patrol craft streaking in formation with lupine insignias etched into their hulls.
"Impressive," Eryndor said.
"Overcompensation," Jimmy countered. "But tasteful."
The courier transmitted its codes.
B.U.D.D.I.E.S. clearance flashed across a dozen scanners, and the defensive arrays powered down, allowing them to pass.
Jimmy watched as they descended through clouds into the sky of the Wolf King's throneworld.
It was beautiful.
Jagged mountain ranges spread like teeth across the horizon, their peaks capped with snow that glowed faintly blue under twin moons. Vast forests of black-barked, silver-leafed trees swayed below. Massive stone cities rose from the earth—fortresses and palaces and training grounds—connected by glowing pathways that pulsed with pack-signature energy.
Wings flashed overhead.
Wolf riders soared through the air on drake-beasts whose scales shimmered like oil slicks, eyes burning with fire. They banked around the courier, escorting it toward a mountain whose face had been sculpted into the ancient visage of a wolf skull.
A fortress-palace had been carved out of that mountainous maw.
The courier set down on a landing platform of dark stone, etched with runes that thrummed under Jimmy's boots as he walked down the ramp.
Wolf warriors in crimson and steel armor lined the path, spears planted, heads bowed in unison as he approached.
Jimmy muttered out of the side of his mouth, "I always forget I outrank death cults and wolf empires. Very weird."
Eryndor's lips quirked. "You are the Head of B.U.D.D.I.E.S. and a cosmic constant. Respect is… expected."
"Still weird," Jimmy repeated.
They passed under towering arches carved with battle scenes—wolves locked with dragons, with shadows, with things that had too many teeth and not enough eyes. The air smelled of smoke, metal, and the faint, wild tang of fur and blood.
At the end of the long hall, two enormous doors loomed, carved with scenes of a crowned wolf standing atop a mountain of broken weapons.
They swung open on silent hinges.
The throne room was massive.
Columns of blackstone and bone rose to a vaulted ceiling, where banners hung—a tapestry of the Wolf King's victories. Torches burned with blue-white flames along the walls, casting rippling light across armor and fur.
On a raised dais of carved stone sat the Wolf King.
He was as huge as Jimmy remembered. Broader than a B.E.A.R. suit, taller than most of the pillars, draped in a cloak of thick, silver-shot fur that shimmered like moonlit water. His armor was forged from dark metal etched with runes that pulsed faintly with fiery red light.
Old scars crisscrossed his arms and neck. Newer ones—still faintly glowing from recent healing—traced along his ribs and left shoulder.
Tournament souvenirs.
His eyes locked onto Jimmy as they approached, molten amber burning under heavy brows.
"Jimmy," he rumbled. "You look worse than I did after your golden whelp threw me through my own arena."
Jimmy stopped at the base of the stairs and sketched a little half-bow, half-shrug.
"I've had," he said, "a long week."
The Wolf King's gaze shifted to Eryndor.
"Sedge Hat," he said. "Or shall I say… Eryndor Vaelric."
Eryndor bowed deeply this time, fist to chest. "Your Majesty."
The Wolf King snorted. "You've shed your hat. Good. It made you look like a drunk storyteller."
"I was a drunk storyteller," Eryndor said.
The King's lips pulled back in a brief, sharp grin.
Then his expression hardened.
"Why are you here?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "You do not bring ships for pleasure visits, Jimmy. And you do not bring him without cause."
Jimmy's throat tightened.
He had faced down star-eaters, reality fractures, and Bones himself.
Somehow, this felt heavier.
"Where is my Shadeclaw?" the Wolf King growled.
The throne creaked under his grip.
Jimmy exhaled slowly.
"In trouble," he said. "Along with Jade. Along with Danny, Swift, Jake, Mira, and a good portion of my sanity."
The Wolf King rose.
The room seemed to shrink around him.
"Explain," he said.
So Jimmy did.
He laid it out in sharp, clean lines—no embellishments, no softening. Mira taken by Tempestron. The Elemental Lords' plan to use Danny as a living battery. The sigil stones drained. The split teams—Alpha pursuing sigil traces, Bravo following Mira's tether into the worst corner of the Elemental Domain.
Shadeclaw's name came up again and again.
The Wolf King's eyes narrowed to slits.
"They sent him into the storm realm," he growled, "as bait and blade."
"He volunteered," Jimmy said. "And you know as well as I do—you couldn't have stopped him."
The King's lip curled, exposing a line of fangs. "I could have tried."
"You did," Eryndor said softly. "In your own way. You raised him to stand, not cower."
The Wolf King's gaze flicked to him.
Eryndor held it steadily.
"They are not just children," Eryndor continued. "They are the hinge of the next age. The Elemental Lords would break them to control what comes next."
He looked up at the King's burning eyes.
"If they fall, Bones rises unchecked."
Silence stretched.
The Wolf King's claws dug into the stone of the dais, leaving grooves.
When he finally spoke, his voice had the weight of mountains.
"I fought your dragon child with everything I had," he said. "He beat me. He earned his path. But Shadeclaw…"
His gaze softened, just barely.
"I sent that cub to find his own teeth," the King said. "Not to be devoured by gods."
Jimmy stepped closer.
"Then help him," he said simply.
The Wolf King's head turned back toward him; the pressure of his aura pressed down on the entire chamber.
"You would ask a king to leave his throne," he said.
"I'm not asking," Jimmy replied. "I'm telling you what's coming. If they take Danny, if they twist the sigils, if they kill Shadeclaw and Mira and break the others… it won't stop with them. The storm will come for your worlds next."
He spread his hands.
"You know I don't lie about these things."
The Wolf King stared at him for a long, burning moment.
Then he laughed—a rumbling, harsh sound, full of teeth and fury.
"You assume I need fear for my worlds to act," he said.
The laughter vanished.
"I do not," he growled. "I have enough reason."
He stepped down from the throne.
Each footfall shook the floor.
"My people will hold this realm," he said. "My queen will keep the seat warm."
He smiled, and this time there was nothing friendly in it.
"I am going hunting."
—
The portal chamber lay deep beneath the palace—carved into the bedrock itself, reinforced with layers of rune-stone and old magic. A massive ring of metal and bone dominated the center of the room, suspended over a chasm that glowed with molten energy.
Wolf priests and engineers scurried around its base, tuning dials and muttering incantations in a low, ululating tongue.
They dropped to one knee as the Wolf King entered.
"My lord," one of them said, bowing low. "The arch is tuned to the coordinates provided by the B.U.D.D.I.E.S. navigators."
Jimmy checked his pad. "Should get you… close-ish. Space is a little squiggly in there right now."
The King stepped toward the ring.
His queen intercepted him.
She was tall, lean, with eyes like shards of amber ice. Her armor was lighter than his, designed for motion, not show. She grasped his arm, claws digging in.
"You go alone?" she demanded.
He nodded.
"This is madness," she said. "Take a pack. Take a legion. Take—"
"This is not a battle for the crown," he said gently. "This is a battle for the pack."
"Shadeclaw is not of our blood," she said.
He gave her a look.
"So?" he asked.
Her jaw clenched.
Then she bowed her head.
"Bring him home," she said quietly.
"If he wants to come," the King replied.
He squeezed her hand once, then stepped into the center of the arch.
The metal and bone ring began to spin, segments rotating in opposite directions, runes flaring bright. The molten glow from the chasm below surged upward, bathing the King in red-gold light.
Jimmy called out, "You're still recovering from the tournament, you know!"
The Wolf King threw back his head and laughed.
"Good," he shouted over the rising roar of the portal. "Let them hope that slows me down!"
The ring screamed as reality bent.
A hole tore open in the air—a vortex of swirling colors and snapping lightning.
Without hesitation, the Wolf King stepped through.
The portal swallowed him, then snapped shut with a thunderclap that shook the foundations of the world.
The chamber fell silent.
Jimmy blew out a breath. "Well," he said. "That should give the Elemental Lords a fun surprise."
Eryndor's eyes were distant, already tracking the next implications.
"It will give them something," he murmured. "Whether they call it 'fun' is another matter."
—
The Elemental Domain did not welcome the Wolf King.
Huge slabs of stone bucked under his boots as he emerged from the portal, arcs of dimension-static crackling around his fur and armor. The sky overhead twisted in unnatural spirals, laden with stormfronts that screamed silently as they folded around unseen cores. Rivers of molten light flowed upward from chasms and hung, suspended in the air like glowing scars.
The King inhaled deeply.
The air tasted wrong.
Too much shadow. Too much elemental distortion. Too many hands meddling with forces that weren't theirs to command.
He curled his lip.
"Storm-thieves," he snarled.
His senses flared outward.
He smelled dragons.
He smelled sigil-resonance.
He smelled something like burnt sunlight and ancient stone.
He smelled Shadeclaw.
Under it all, faint but unmistakable—
the scent of his adopted cub, threaded with blood and shadow and stubborn fury.
He started walking.
The ground trembled under each step, but he walked as if he owned it, as if the realm had no right to object.
Far ahead, lightning stabbed at a distant horizon. Somewhere, mountains groaned as if being pushed from beneath. The King felt the tug of violence in that direction.
He grinned.
"Of course you found trouble," he said softly. "You never did anything quietly, little one."
He picked up his pace.
—
Time twisted in strange ways in the Elemental Domain.
Moments snagged on themselves. Distances folded and stretched. A path that should have taken days compressed into heartbeats, then unfolded again into a slow, steady march.
The Wolf King walked through it as though it were a forest path.
A spike of pain shot through his ribs – a reminder of golden claws and shimmering flame. Danny's final slam in the tournament still echoed in his bones. His body remembered the impact.
So did his pride.
"Good hit," he murmured to no one. "Waste if you die before I see what else you can do."
The air shivered.
A sound threaded through it.
At first, it was only a vibration—the faintest rumble under the constant storm-roar. Then it sharpened, drew together, became something focused, something bloody and desperate and still somehow defiant.
A wolf's roar.
Shadeclaw.
The King stopped dead on the edge of a cracked ravine.
The sound ripped through him, not just his ears but his chest, his claws, his teeth. It carried pain and power and a question that was older than language:
Is anyone there?
His lips peeled back from his fangs.
"Of course I am," he growled.
He lowered his head.
His lungs filled.
He let the enormity of himself coil into his core—not just flesh and bone, but crown and duty and the weight of every pack that ever howled under his sky.
Then he opened his jaws and roared.
His voice tore across the valley, up the broken cliffs, over the twisted sky. It ripped through stormfronts, shattered hanging rivers, drove lesser creatures to the ground. It echoed off unseen walls, bouncing through the Domain like a signal fire set to sound.
It was not a polite announcement.
It was a declaration.
A king had entered the hunt.
In the distance, he felt something falter—
then steady.
Shadeclaw's presence, ragged and wild, flared a little brighter.
The King's grin sharpened.
"That's it," he murmured. "Stand up."
He could almost hear the answering roar before it even reached him.
It came a heartbeat later—
fierce, scarred, but controlled.
Shadeclaw's voice.
Not a cub's yelp of panic.
A wolf's cry of defiance.
The King closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him, pride swelling like a second heart.
"Good," he said softly. "You're not gone yet."
Around him, the domain itself seemed to pause, as if listening to the conversation written in howls across its broken bones.
Somewhere beyond sight, something else roared back—a dragon's fury in the far distance, and he filed that away for later.
For now, this was enough.
He rolled his shoulders, flexed his claws, and turned toward the direction of Shadeclaw's voice.
The path was clearer now.
He was not running blind.
He was running home.
The Wolf King's boots struck the fractured ground in a steady, relentless rhythm as he began to move toward his pack—toward his son—toward the war that had been waiting for him.
Behind him, the echo of his roar lingered in the air like a promise.
Ahead of him, a wolf's answering roar faded into the dark.
And the Elemental Domain, for the first time in a very long while, remembered what it meant to fear the sound of a king.