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108

Penulis: Bella Fyre
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2026-01-06 12:17:47

108

Three days passed. Three long, unnatural days. No messages. No movement. No ritual preparations. Nothing from the Dawlya council.

Puc’s watchers reported the same each morning: “No activity. No meetings. No travel. No magic.”

Morgan said it best, “The Dawlya have never been silent. Not even in mourning.”

Which meant only one thing. They were planning something big enough that even their breath was hidden.

Avi felt the tension coiling under the surface like a taut wire, ready to snap. The Circle felt it too. It pulsed in her spine each night, uncomfortable, restless, listening for something it refused to name. But inside Ashbarrie’s boundaries, life pressed forward. Especially for the seven Dawlya defectors.

On the fourth morning, Chance found Avi in the training yard, practicing flight-land transitions with the Veilkeepers. He didn’t interrupt; he simply waited until she landed.

“Circle Keeper,” he greeted, already tense.

Avi wiped sweat from her forehead. “What happened?”
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  • Dawlya’s Dragon   111

    111 The hallway outside Cain’s infirmary room was never meant to hold six elite trainees yet the Veilkeepers filled every inch of it, silent and unmoving, like a wall of steel. No one had told them to stand guard. They simply… did. Because Cain was hers. Because anyone who tried to kill him was trying to destroy Avi as well. Commander Thomas arrived first, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and stopped dead when he saw them. “Why,” he asked slowly, “are you all here?” Kael arms crossed, posture rigid, answered without looking at him. “Because the next person who tries to hurt Avi’s mate is going to have to go through us first.” Joren, sitting on a bench sharpening a small practice blade, didn’t even glance up. “Besides,” he muttered, “I’ve never seen Avi that shaken. If something happens to him, she’ll tear the capital apart.” Mira sat with her knees drawn up, tracing a calming sigil on the floor. “She didn’t sleep last night,” she murmured. “The Circle kept trying to surge toward

  • Dawlya’s Dragon   110

    110 The Dawlya sanctum was silent. Too silent. Then the floor sigils burned black. Seven robed Elders stepped into the ritual circle, their hands bound by shadow-thread, their voices unified. “By decree of the High Mother… By law of blood… Let the Obsidian Weapon awake.” A bowl carved from volcanic glass rose into the air. It pulsed once like a heartbeat. Then darkness exploded outward, racing across the astral plane like lightning seeking a target. Not Avi. Cain. The Dawlya Elders raised their hands, pushing more power into the weapon. “Strike the mate-bond. Shatter the sentinel. Break the Keeper through the one she loves.” The chamber trembled as the weapon shot across the magical lattice that connected worlds. A Dawlya apprentice screamed and collapsed from the recoil. The Elders didn’t stop. “It begins.” Cain’s head snapped up so fast the wind cracked around him. His pupils narrowed into predator slits. “…Avi.” He reached for her instinctively but she was already t

  • Dawlya’s Dragon   109

    109 The Hall of Stone was dim, lit only by the red glow of the Dawlya crest etched into the volcanic rock. The seven remaining Keepers stood in a circle, their tattoos flickering with unstable magic. High Mother Velyn paced before them, robes whispering like a blade dragged over sand. “Report.” Keeper Thale swallowed hard. She had been shaking since the ritual surge from the Draynor system. “High Mother… the surge has stopped. The lines have stabilized. The girl Avi is not expanding further. The Circle merging did not create destructive output. It only strengthened her bond.” Another Keeper added, “She absorbed them safely. There were no ripples of collapse or backlash in the magic field.” For a moment, silence hung. Then the High Mother snarled. “No backlash means she is in control. Worse, she is in harmony with the defectors.” A murmur rippled through the council. Thale hesitated. “High Mother… respectfully… nothing about what we felt implies aggression. It was simply…” “PO

  • Dawlya’s Dragon   108

    108 Three days passed. Three long, unnatural days. No messages. No movement. No ritual preparations. Nothing from the Dawlya council. Puc’s watchers reported the same each morning: “No activity. No meetings. No travel. No magic.” Morgan said it best, “The Dawlya have never been silent. Not even in mourning.” Which meant only one thing. They were planning something big enough that even their breath was hidden. Avi felt the tension coiling under the surface like a taut wire, ready to snap. The Circle felt it too. It pulsed in her spine each night, uncomfortable, restless, listening for something it refused to name. But inside Ashbarrie’s boundaries, life pressed forward. Especially for the seven Dawlya defectors. On the fourth morning, Chance found Avi in the training yard, practicing flight-land transitions with the Veilkeepers. He didn’t interrupt; he simply waited until she landed. “Circle Keeper,” he greeted, already tense. Avi wiped sweat from her forehead. “What happened?”

  • Dawlya’s Dragon   107

    107 The war room in Ashbarrie had never felt so quiet. Avi stood in the center of the chamber, the glow of late afternoon sunlight scattering across the polished stone. Her tattoo pulsed softly seven bright lines threading up her cheek, each one a reminder of what the Circle had become. Brie and Trace stood together. Mikan in guarding posture beside them. Cain hovered near Avi, close enough to catch her, far enough not to interfere. Morgan and Chance waited at her sides, forming a stabilizing triangle. Avi exhaled. “I want to send them a message,” she said. “Not an attack. Not a spell. Just… a warning. If they’re going to keep coming after me, after my family, after my people then I want them to hear it from me, not the Circle acting on instinct.” Chance glanced at Mikan. Mikan looked at Brie. Brie nodded once. “You have permission,” the Queen said. “But do not start a war with this alone. You are sending a warning, not a declaration.” Avi swallowed hard. “That’s all I want.”

  • Dawlya’s Dragon   106

    106 The Ashbarrie palace war room was already crowded when Puc and his Ghosts stepped through the teleport gate. Mikan, Brie, Trace, Morgan, Cain, Daxen, and Captain Garrik were waiting. But the moment the Ghost squad materialized, the temperature in the room shifted. Puc looked like he’d brought the graveyard with him. His mask was off rare and ash streaks still clung to the creases of his armor. His team was silent, standing in formation behind him, each one visibly on edge. Mikan was the first to speak. “What did you find?” Puc didn’t answer immediately. He reached into a sealed containment pack and set a crystalline recorder on the table. It pulsed with flickering red static. Morgan stiffened. “Residual Dawlya magic,” he muttered. “Unstable. That’s not good.” Brie folded her hands atop the table. “Puc. Report.” Puc inhaled once, steadying himself. “High Queen, Kings… the Dawlya council attempted a ritual to seize the Circle either to claim it or to stop Avi from keeping it

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