The sky above Earth had changed.
Not just in color — though it shimmered now with faint aurora-like streaks of ambient mana — but in weight. The very atmosphere hummed with ancient power, the residue of a wish strong enough to bend the rules of reality.
Zavier stood atop what remained of the Grand Arena, looking down at a world both familiar and forever changed. His eyes reflected more than just the horizon — they reflected expectation, grief, wonder… and roots calling him home.
Not Earth.
Not anymore.
He turned toward the faint pulse in his blood. A call — ancient, maternal — guiding him to her.
To Seraphine Vel Drakaryn.
Far above the clouds, beyond the veil of visible stars, a lone peak floated — a crystalline mountain wrapped in amber winds and glowing embers. Here, fire did not burn destructively. It breathed. Living, aware, and warm like a mother's embrace.
Zavier landed softly, the winds parting for him.
She stood at the heart of it — not in human form, but as she truly was. A colossal dragon coiled with elegance, her ivory-gold scales pulsing like slow firelight. Her horns curved like halos, her wings folded with the serenity of a mother long separated from her child.
Seraphine Vel Drakaryn — the Mother of Summer's Heart.
"You've grown," her voice came, not from her mouth, but from everywhere at once. It was music and warmth, soft sorrow wrapped in pride.
Zavier lowered his head. "I kept the name."
She shrank in a slow shimmer of light until she stood before him in a regal, humanoid form — tall, draped in flame-woven robes, her golden eyes misted with tears she didn't let fall.
"And it kept me going."
They embraced — no grand speeches. No legends spoken aloud. Just a mother and son, finally whole again.
Later that day, deep in a pocket realm tethered to the mana-rich skies above Earth, the gathering took place.
A grand hall carved from obsidian and light, suspended over a sea of memory and flame. Pillars rose like spires of ancient dragonbone, and the air shimmered with ancestral pressure.
Only three thrones were lit.
Solmaria Vel Drakaryn, the Autumn Dragon, arrived first — drifting down like a falling leaf caught in a dream. Her eyes were half-lidded, her presence gentle and knowing. She gave Zavier a brief, silent hug, then whispered a single phrase:
"The roots remember, little ember."
Moments later, fire tore through the hall.
Kaelrix Vel Drakary , the Summer Dragon, erupted into the space like a sunflare — regal, loud, his wings unfurling with volcanic heat. He examined Zavier like a general judging a new soldier.
"I see fire in your eyes. But is it tempered… or wild?"
Zavier met his gaze, unflinching. Kaelrix's grin widened.
"Good."
No words were needed. That was acknowledgment.
One seat remained dim.
Aurielle Vel Drakaryn, the Winter Dragon, did not come.
Not a single word was spoken about her absence.
But Zavier could feel it. A cold somewhere beyond the veil, watching.
Not hatred. Not rejection.
Caution.
The air within the hall grew heavy — not with tension, but with expectation. Time here didn't pass normally. Each heartbeat felt stretched, elongated, as if even the cosmos paused to observe what was about to unfold.
Zavier stood before two of the oldest living beings in the multiverse. Dragons not just of power, but of seasonal law. Elders who had shaped history through their breath alone.
And yet they said nothing for a time. They only watched him.
Kaelrix was the first to break the silence.
"You killed a god-blooded kin in your first tournament week. Commanded primal fire without training. Awakened our sister's flame within your veins."
He leaned forward from his molten throne, red-gold armor shimmering with the fire of a dying star.
"Do you even know what you are, boy?"
Zavier's jaw tightened. He didn't flinch, but his silence was enough of an answer.
Solmaria spoke next — a soft, barely audible voice that echoed like falling leaves.
"He is not what… but when."
Kaelrix frowned. "Speak clearly, sister. He needs truth, not riddles."
Solmaria tilted her head toward Zavier. Her eyes — endless autumn brown — shimmered with past lives.
"Zavier… your evolution has no walls. No steps, no ceilings. That is not freedom. It is risk. It is disruption."
"You were not born into the cycle. You were made to test it."
Zavier took a breath, grounding himself. "So I'm a threat."
Kaelrix chuckled. "You're a fire still finding its direction. Unrefined fire destroys its own hearth."
He rose from his throne in one smooth motion, stepping down toward Zavier, each footstep echoing like thunder across time.
"I will train you. Not to protect others from you — but to protect you from what you will awaken."
Zavier looked up at him. "And if I refuse?"
Kaelrix's smile returned. It was not kind.
"Then I will kill you before you burn what we've spent eternity building."
Silence.
The tension in the room tightened for an instant, but before anything flared, Solmaria stood.
She raised one hand — and with it, a thousand whispers surged like wind through the obsidian hall. Fleeting memories, futures not yet written, and names never spoken brushed against Zavier's mind like falling leaves.
Then… peace.
Kaelrix turned away with a grunt, heat retracting from his shoulders like a calmed volcano.
Solmaria walked with Zavier through a quiet memory-garden nested behind the throne hall — a place where time fractured into suspended moments. The two strolled past frozen scenes like echoes caught in crystal.
"You will walk paths the rest of us are not permitted to tread," she said softly. "And you will lose yourself many times. That… is your fate."
Zavier turned to her. "Then why give me the Vel Drakaryn name?"
She paused, her hand brushing a crystalline leaf containing a vision of his mother, Seraphine, singing over a small ember wrapped in cloth.
"Because Seraphine knew. You are not our legacy. You are our hope."
"A dragon that cannot be contained by the cosmos is a danger to all… but also the only one who might break what must be broken."
Zavier stared at the frozen memory of Seraphine. She looked younger, tired, radiant.
He whispered, "What am I supposed to break?"
Solmaria smiled — but it was a sad smile.
"You'll know when you see it."
As Zavier returned to the main hall, Kaelrix was gone — vanished as suddenly as he'd arrived. Only ash remained on the throne.
Solmaria's voice drifted behind him:
"Aurielle is watching. Even if she does not speak."
Zavier looked toward the empty throne cloaked in silent frost.
"She fears I'll destroy the balance."
Solmaria didn't respond.
Zavier stood alone now in the middle of the ancient hall, the blood of dragons roaring within him, a destiny unraveling like the seasons themselves.
Above, the multiverse stirred.
The next test was coming.
And this time, it wouldn't be inside an arena.