LOGINAvin returns home during the royal celebration, bringing chaos with her. She falls in love with someone unexpected, but her past catches up with her and threatens to tear them apart.
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The sun shone brightly over the city of Drayhoone, and King Mikan thought to himself that it was going to be a good day. He had promised his cousin Rodic that he would be present for his second transition into dragon form. The first transformation was always private, and Mikan had not been allowed to attend. Because of the bond they shared, his presence could have interfered with Rodic’s choice of trainer. But he had sworn to be there for the boy’s second change. King Trace met Mikan at the shuttle bay rather than the palace. Raje, the lead trainer, had insisted that Mikan stay away from the training arena until Rodic chose his trainer, so there would be no outside influence. Once a youngling made that choice, the trainer became the only dragon they would respond to in dragon form until they fully merged with their other half. The choice was mostly a formality 99% of younglings chose Raje. Still, tradition required the ceremony for the rare exceptions. With their bodyguards in tow, the two kings began walking toward the palace, catching up after their last meeting. Their talk was not only of Rodic’s transformation. The Queen’s egg was due to hatch, and preparations for her thousand-year reign celebration were already underway. As the Queen’s cousin, Mikan was looking forward to the festivities. Then, without warning, an explosion thundered from the south side of the city. The ground trembled. Both kings turned toward the commotion and saw three full-sized dragons hovering over the city facing down a black-and-red youngling. Mikan’s slayer commlink blared an emergency alert: “Prince Rodic has escaped the training arena. He has not chosen a trainer. Approach with caution. Repeat: youngling loose in the city.” Neither Mikan nor Trace hesitated. They shifted into their dragon forms, the black-and-blue dragon and the feared white dragon filling the streets, sending civilians scattering for cover. “How in the hell did he escape?” Trace growled. “I think the bigger question is how is he flying?” Mikan answered grimly. Rodic darted through the air, using his smaller size and speed to outmaneuver the slayers. But he hadn’t accounted for the Queen’s sentinel. Captain Kyle, small and blisteringly fast, shot into the sky and intercepted him. Moments later, the Queen herself, her great red dragon joined, trying desperately to reach her son. But Rodic, driven purely by instinct, ignored her attempts. “I can tell Brie is trying to reach him, but he’s not responding,” Trace said, his agitation rising. “I don’t want anyone hurting my son.” “He’ll only respond to a trainer,” Mikan replied. Then he released a thunderous roar that silenced the chaos below. His voice boomed through the dragon mind-link: “Remember, this youngling is the Prince. Do not harm him.” Rodic heard. He turned, vanished from the slayers’ sight, and reappeared directly before Mikan. The two dragons roared at one another. Mikan groaned. “Oh, hell. Land and transform, you little demon.” Rodic obeyed, swooping down and shifting back into his Draynor form. Trace and Mikan followed. Straider, Trace’s sentinel, stripped off his shirt to cover the boy’s nakedness while the kings wove their skin into the appearance of clothes. Through the mind-link, Trace broadcasted that Rodic was safe and ordered the trainers to meet them in the throne room. Inside the throne room, Queen Brieanika and the three trainers awaited, their faces grim. Rodic, however, looked delighted. “Who got him to change form?” Raje demanded. “I did,” Mikan admitted, raising his hand. “I specifically told you not to interfere.” “Don’t blame me. You let a youngling escape, and the slayers were about to harm him. I merely reminded them who he was. How did I know Rodic was eavesdropping?” Mikan countered. Raje’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Then his training is now your responsibility, King Mikan.” Mikan scowled. “I don’t have time to train anyone.” Queen Brie chuckled softly. “We could always suspend your slayer duties until he is trained.” “Don’t you dare,” Mikan growled. He turned back to Raje. “Answer me this, why was he flying?” “That is the mystery,” Raje admitted. “He transformed, grew nervous at our presence, and perhaps sensing you nearby he panicked. He blasted a fireball into the arena wall, tore through it, and fled. If not for Captain Kyle’s speed, the city might be in ruins.” Trace narrowed his eyes. “You seem strangely calm about this. None of this is normal.” “Neither are his parents,” Raje replied. At Trace’s glare, he bowed his head in respect. “No disrespect, my King, nor to our Queen but the boy’s bloodline is unlike any other. Two Torch parents. Two of the strongest dragons. His speed nearly matches Kyle’s. Nothing about him is ordinary.” “I really like flying,” Rodic said at last, grinning. Mikan crouched before the boy, peering into his eyes. He reached into Rodic’s mind and froze. “It can’t be.” He rose sharply. “What is it, cousin?” Brie asked, sensing his unease. “Rodic has already merged with his dragon.”The words stunned the chamber. Raje checked the boy himself, then fell silent in shock. “Well?” Trace pressed. “Has he?” “Yes,” Raje confirmed quietly. “I have never seen this before. But with the royal line… the unexpected is inevitable.” Mikan frowned. “The only other female of the royal line to wed a Draynor was my mother.” “And you can shift into any form you please,” Raje reminded him. “And your brother Daxen can conjure ice storms that could freeze this city for a solar year. Unique things happen in your bloodline.” Before Mikan could respond, Raje’s commlink buzzed. He read the message and smirked. “It is official. Prince Rodic has chosen you as his trainer, King Mikan. What’s done is done. I recommend you assemble a team of Captain Kyle, to counter the boy’s speed, and King Trace, to help manage his fireballs.” “I can handle fireballs,” Mikan huffed. “Not these flames,” Raje said gravely. “The residue at the arena proves it, it was a Torch’s flame.” Trace’s eyes widened. “What did you say?” “Prince Rodic is a Torch. He’ll need training to control that fire.” All eyes turned to the boy. Rodic blinked innocently. “Can I go flying again?” Mikan sighed, rummaged through his bag, and pulled out a restraint. He locked it around Rodic’s wrist. “No shifting or flying without my permission.” He gestured to Stryker, the boy’s sentinel. “Take the Prince to eat while we discuss his training.” When the boy was gone, Brie’s face hardened. “Mikan, I know that restraint. That was no training cuff, you put a slayer’s restraint on him. What was his first-level reading?” Mikan hesitated, then admitted, “Nine.” The Queen’s voice cracked. “Raje, what is happening to my son?” Raje stepped forward, his expression gentler now. “Your Majesty, he is fine. This is not a curse or an affliction it is simply the uniqueness of the royal line. Power always manifests differently when royalty and Draynor blood are joined. Rodic’s early merge, his speed, his flame… they are rare, yes, but not dangerous to him. He is strong. Stronger than most younglings his age. With proper guidance, he will thrive.” Brie’s hands trembled, but her shoulders eased as she met Raje’s eyes. “Then we guide him,” she whispered. “And we will,” Raje promised, his tone steady.75 The room they used for high-level spell assessments wasn’t large, but it felt that way now empty stone, runes carved into the floor, and a heavy pressure in the air that Avi knew wasn’t from the chamber itself. It was coming from her. Chance stood across from her, arms folded, expression unreadable. Beside him, Max monitored the runic seals. Brie and Trace watched from a high balcony above, far enough to be safe if something went wrong, close enough to intervene if they had to. Cain wasn’t permitted inside. He paced outside the sealed doors like a caged inferno. Chance exhaled slowly. “Avi… before we begin, I want you to understand something.” She nodded, her pulse loud enough that it drowned out everything else. “The Circle you accepted,” Chance continued, “is not like learned magic. It’s ancient, predatory, instinct-driven. It will always try to expand. It will always test your control. And today, we find out if you control it… or if it controls you.” Avi swallowed. “I’m
74 Far from Draynor space, in the shadowed cavern that served as the Dawlya High Circle’s chamber, twelve figures sat around a basin of pale, shimmering water. Their joined magic pulsed like a heartbeat irritable, strained, and thinning. They had been trying for hours to seize what Seppa left behind. They had failed. The surface of the basin rippled violently, then went black… Then blazed violet. “Impossible…” whispered Elder Maarith, fingers trembling above the water. “She claimed it?” another breathed. “No,” corrected the High Matron, her voice sharp with fear and fury. “We attempted to take the Circle. We pulled its threads, we tried to sever its anchor. But the Circle did not come to us.” The basin pulsed again this time with the unmistakable silhouette of wings. “It went to her.” The council recoiled. “That girl?” “That half-trained whelp?” “That soldier?” The High Mother slammed her palm to the table, cracking the stone. “She is no whelp. She is Seppa’s chosen h
73 Avi sat between Morgan and Mikan in the quiet conference room of the wing corp, her hands wrapped around a cup of untouched tea. The tattoo at her collarbone Seppa’s fractured Dawlya sigil throbbed faintly beneath her shirt, a reminder she could no longer ignore. Morgan had studied it for nearly an hour, his normally calm expression carved into something tight and troubled. Finally, Avi exhaled and asked the question she had avoided since the moment Morgan mentioned claiming the circle. “What does it actually cost?” Her voice came out thin, but steady. Morgan and Mikan exchanged a look one Avi recognized. We know, but don’t want to say it look. The one they used when discussing consequences that would destroy most people. Mikan sat forward first. “Avin… a Circle Keeper doesn’t just lead a Dawlya circle, they anchor it. The circle’s magic binds to their soul. Their emotions. Their life force.” Morgan added quietly, “If the circle becomes corrupted… The Keeper suffers. If the
72 Deep beneath the stone chambers of the Dawlya stronghold, the council gathered. Twelve robed sorceresses stood in a perfect ring, the air humming with old magic and the scent of burning resin. Their leader, High Mother Vekhira, lifted her chin as the circle’s carved glyphs began to glow around them. “Seppa’s circle stirs,” she announced, her voice echoing. “If we act now tonight we may reclaim it before the draynor dragon girl does.” A murmur rippled through the chamber. “She is untrained,” another argued. “She cannot bind a circle of Seppa’s level. If it bonds to her violently, she will die.” “Then let it kill her,” Vekhira hissed. “But the power must be ours.” They joined hands. Power surged between them, a pulse of violet energy that crackled across the floor and struck the unclaimed Dawlya sigil etched into the center of the room, the one that had belonged to Seppa. The glyph flickered once. Then twice. Then something pushed back. Hard. A shockwave blasted outward, sna
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