For a long moment after the armored figure disappeared, none of them spoke. The silence pressed in, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the faint drip of water somewhere beyond the cell walls. Aeron finally exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
" So," he muttered, " we're just going to ignore the fact that we might've been captured by the very guy we're looking for?"
Starfania leaned back against the cold stone, her mind replaying every word the man had said. Territory. Consequences. He hadn't denied it. That alone gnawed at her. Violet hugged her knees to her chest. " He didn't say his name…but he knew too much."
" Yeah," Aeron said grimly. " And the armor. The dragon. The timing. If that wasn't Lyam, I'll eat my boots."
A heavy pause followed—fear creeping in where humor had no room. Starfania forced a crooked smile, lifting her hands slightly.
" Well," she said lightly, though her chest still ached with worry, " that's one way to greet someone."
Violet snorted despite herself, and even Aeron let out a quiet huff of laughter.
" Next time," Aeron added dryly, " I'd prefer a handshake. Or at least fewer bars."
The moment passed, but the worry didn't. Starfania's gaze drifted upward, her thoughts racing toward the sky. Atlas…please be alright. Far from the cell, beyond winding stone corridors and torch-lit halls, Lyam stood on a raised overlook carved into the mountain itself. The night wind tugged at his cloak as he stared down into the depths where their prisoners were held. Beside him stood an older man—broad-shouldered, battle-worn, with silver threading through his dark hair. His armor bore the same scaled motif, though dulled by age and countless campaigns. The general shifted uneasily.
" Why are we locking young ones now?" he asked, his voice low but firm. " This doesn't feel right."
Lyam didn't answer at first. His eyes remained fixed on the distant cells, his jaw tight. For a moment, the weight of the decision pressed heavily on his shoulders—heavier than any blade. Then he turned to the general, his expression unreadable.
" They're not prisoners," Lyam said quietly. " Not really."
The general frowned. " Then what are they?"
Lyam looked back toward the darkness, toward the girl with midnight eyes and the weight of the world in her voice.
" A complication," he said. " And possibly…a turning point."
After a pause, he added, his tone firm and final, " Make sure our guests are fed. And see that they're taken care of."
The general hesitated, then nodded. " As you wish."
As he walked away, Lyam remained where he was, the wind carrying faint echoes of the world beyond the mountain. Dragon Savior, he thought. So that's who you are. And for the first time since the war began, Lyam wasn't certain whether fate had brought him an enemy—or an answer. Time dragged on in the cell, stretching thin and shapeless until it felt like it might snap. At some point, Violet started counting the cracks in the stone wall. She got to seventy-three before deciding two of them looked suspiciously like a lopsided dragon and arguing about it with Aeron for a solid five minutes. Aeron tried tapping out rhythms against the bars, insisting it helped him think—until Starfania threatened to knock his fingers if he didn't stop.
" Prison does wonders for morale," Starfania muttered, sliding down to sit against the wall.
Eventually, footsteps echoed down the corridor. All three of them snapped to attention as a guard approached—tall, broad, his armor dark but polished. Etched clearly into his chest plate was a sigil: a phoenix rising, wings spread wide, encircled by delicate flowers carved with surprising care. Life and rebirth entwined with something fierce. Starfania's eyes lingered on it longer than she meant to. The guard said nothing as he set a tray down just inside the bars—bread, dried meat, water. Simple. Clean.
" Get comfortable," he said at last, his voice neutral. Not cruel. Not kind. " You'll be here a while."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving the echo of his boots behind. Violet stared at the food. " Well…at least they're not starving us?"
Aeron crouched, inspecting the tray. " Which somehow makes this more unsettling."
Starfania barely heard them. Her gaze had locked onto the far side of the room—where a simple wooden table stood just outside the cell. On it lay Cosmry. Her sword. Resting calmly, almost mockingly, just out of reach. Her fingers curled into her palms. They know, she realized. Or at least…they suspect. With no other options, they ate, rested, and waited—minds spinning, nerves stretched thin.
Morning came quietly. Too quietly. Starfania woke with the distinct sensation of being watched. She sat up—and froze. A young man leaned casually against the stone wall outside their cell, as if he'd been there for hours. He was dressed in deep emerald; the fabric fitted and deliberate, his cloak draping down his back in a way that almost resembled a tail. His gloves and boots were embedded with sharp, claw-like extensions at the fingertips and toes, subtle but unmistakable. Dark brown hair framed his face, complementing the green of his attire, while his posture radiated an effortless confidence.
Unbothered. Unrushed. Waiting. His eyes—a striking yellow—lifted to meet theirs, sharp and assessing, as though he were already three steps ahead. Violet sucked in a breath. " Uh…how long has he been there?"
The man didn't answer. Starfania stepped forward, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
" Who are you," she demanded, " and why have you brought us here?"
For a few heartbeats, he said nothing. Then one corner of his mouth twitched.
" You ask a lot of questions for someone behind bars," he said smoothly. Aeron grabbed the bars. " Don't play games. If you know what's going on, say it."
The man sighed, pushing off the wall and stretching like someone mildly inconvenienced. The tail-like drape of his cloak swayed with the movement.
" Fine," he said. " Let's start simple."
His eyes flicked—not to their faces—but to the table. To Cosmry.
" That sword," he whispered. " Why do you have it?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Starfania felt Aeron tense beside her. Violet went still. Starfania swallowed—but didn't lie.
" Because I was chosen," she said. " Cantina sent us. And I'm the new Dragon Savior."
Silence. Then—he laughed. Not cruelly. Not loudly. Just a short, disbelieving breath.
" You?" he said, yellow eyes narrowing. " You're eighteen at best."
His gaze sharpened, peeling her apart layer by layer.
" The Dragon Savior is forged by time, war, and sacrifice. Not—" his eyes flickered briefly to Violet, " —children."
Starfania's jaw tightened. " I didn't ask for it."
Then, at least, made him pause. He studied her again—longer this time.
" And yet," he murmured, " you carry Cosmry. And you live."
His expression darkened slightly. " Interesting."
He paced slowly in front of the cell. " So tell me—if Cantina sent you…why hide who you really are?"
Aeron's heart skipped. Starfania held firm. " Because not everyone needs to know where we come from."
His eyes snapped back to hers.
" Primara has eyes everywhere," he whispered. " Especially when VulcanFire is involved."
The name hung heavy in the air. Starfania didn't flinch. Didn't confirm. Didn't deny. A slow smile curved his lips—sharp, knowing.
" Smart," he admitted. " Dangerous. But smart."
He stopped pacing and faced them fully.
" My turn," he said. " I've questioned you long enough."
With a mocking half-bow, he finally spoke the words plainly.
" My name is Lyam," he said. " Leader of the Primara Nation."
Violet's breath caught. Aeron's grip tightened on the bars. And Starfania met his gaze steadily, her heart pounding—not with fear alone, but with the certainty that everything from this moment on was about to change.