เข้าสู่ระบบElarionThe night before, I heard her.Not with ears.With blood.With bone.Her music carried through the thinning seam like silver thread drawn through torn silk. Each note vibrated against the barrier, not violently, not recklessly — but with intent she did not yet fully understand.She was not merely playing.She was aligning.I stood upon the crystalline ridge that marked one of the weakest points between our realms and watched the seam respond.For years, it had sagged and devoured magic like a starving thing. It consumed what crossed and gave nothing back. That was why we created the Madrigals. Why we sent them. Why we bled our own lines into humanity.To feed it.To sustain it.But when she bonded — truly bonded — the barrier did not sag.It tightened.It hummed.The seam drew inward, stabilizing in ways I had not witnessed in centuries.Pride swelled in my chest.My daughter.The last born of a first line.More fae than Madrigal.More bridge than sacrifice.Around me, the pat
MalrecKaerin returned at dawn, scorched at the edges and breathing hard, but alive.I knew the attempt had succeeded the moment I saw him.The seam does not leave survivors untouched.He shifted clumsily in the cavern mouth, scales rippling back into flesh. His eyes burned with something between triumph and dread.“It opened,” he said hoarsely.My pulse sharpened.“For how long?”“Long enough.”He handed me the reply — not parchment this time, but a shard of crystal etched with sigils only old bloodlines would recognize.House Vaereth had received my message.And they had answered.The seam is fragile but widening. A stabilization event has altered its structure. When the next surge occurs, we will send warriors. Be ready.Stabilization event.So they felt it too.Of course they did.I dismissed Kaerin to rest and returned to the inner chamber, where my remaining allies gathered in uneasy silence.The night before the gathering, the air shifted again.Not violently.But decisively.T
AurelionWhen we stepped into the great hall, I felt it immediately.The tension.It threaded through the air like a drawn bowstring.Outwardly, I smiled. I greeted nobles, commanders, elders. I inclined my head at appropriate intervals. I held Seraphina’s hand as though this were simply another gathering beneath the banners of Emberhold.But my dragon did not relax.He prowled beneath my skin, every instinct alert.Eyes followed us as we entered.Not subtle glances.Measured ones.We moved slowly through the hall. Music swelled from the musicians’ balcony. Lanternlight flickered against stone walls. The scent of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the space.Seraphina was radiant beside me.No disguise.No shadow.Just her.The sea-colored gown caught the light with every step. Her braids framed her face, soft but deliberate. She held herself with a composure that did not feel rehearsed — it felt earned.Some dragons bowed their heads slightly as we passed.Others studied her.A few
SeraphinaWhen Aurelion told me he intended to announce our bond publicly, I forgot how to breathe.Not because I didn’t want it.Because I understood exactly what it meant.We were standing on the western parapet when he said it. The wind had been steady, the sea calm in a way that felt deliberate. His voice was calm too — not impulsive, not romantic — but resolute.“I will announce it at the gathering.”Not I’m thinking about it. Not Perhaps we should.I will.I had nodded.Of course I had.What else was I going to do? Argue with a king in front of three commanders and a sky full of listening dragons?But later, alone in my chamber, the weight of it settled into my bones.Announcing a bond — even one not yet sealed fully — wasn’t just romantic.It was political.It was territorial.It was… final in a way.If he declared me publicly as his intended mate, the dragons of Emberhold would see me not as guest, not as Madrigal, not as curious anomaly —But as future queen.I stood in fro
AnonymousI felt it before any of them brought me the whispers.The stabilization.It struck like a hammer to the sternum.The storm raged — I had been standing on the western ridge watching it tear at the cliffs — and then it stopped.Not faded.Stopped.The sea does not obey so cleanly.Not without command.Not without alignment.I knew then that something had shifted at the seam.I returned to my study beneath the old quarry caverns and spread the maps across the stone table — parchment layered over parchment, lines etched in charcoal where the barrier thinned, marked in red where magic surged or drained.For months I have charted it.The fluctuations. The weak spots. The hungry places where the veil pulls thin as stretched skin.The stabilization rippled across every mark I had drawn.A line that once flickered jagged now ran smooth.A thinning seam near the western pines brightened faintly in response.The bridge has anchored.I knew it even before the messenger arrived.The knoc
AurelionI knew the moment she stepped into my private dining chamber that something in me had already shifted beyond recall.She wore no disguise.No shadowed hood. No layered concealment.Just low-slung dark pants and a fitted top the color of the sea at dusk. Her hair was braided in twin plaits over her shoulders, and sunlight from the tall arched windows caught in the copper threads woven through it.She sparkled.Not magically.Not overtly.But as if the light itself preferred her.I watched her cross the room toward the small table set near the hearth, and my dragon stretched lazily beneath my skin, pleased in a way that felt territorial and deeply satisfied.Mine.Already possessive.She smiled when she noticed me staring.“What?” she asked, sliding into the chair across from me.“Nothing,” I said. “You simply seem… lighter today.”Her lips curved. “The sea was lighter too.”I felt it again — that subtle alignment that had settled after last night’s storm.The barrier had not m







