The winds of the Valley of Dragons howled like a warning.

  High above jagged cliffs, two ancient rulers stood facing the outcast who had dared to return.

  Queen Penny—Dragon Queen of the Valley—stood like a verdict given flesh.

  Beside her, her sister Kimpy watched with gold eyes that didn’t blink.

  Between them knelt the one they had cast out long ago.

  Queen (codename).

  Her wings folded tight against her back. Her head bowed low in submission, throat bared the way dragons only did when they meant it.

  Kimpy’s voice cut first.

  “So,” she said coldly, “the outcast returns.”

  Penny’s was colder.

  “Speak carefully. You stand in the nest you betrayed.”

  Queen swallowed.

  “I… I miss everyone,” she said quietly. “Vespera told me I should come back… that maybe I could try to make things right.”

  The two sisters exchanged a glance.

  Kimpy arched an eyebrow.

  Penny didn’t look amused.

  “You think this is about missing family?” Penny’s voice rose, thunder behind it. “You and Ace shattered the world when you opened the chamber seven centuries ago.”

  Her claws clenched.

  “You unleashed the Seven Calamity Books.”

  Kimpy stepped forward, gaze burning.

  “And worst of all,” she said, “you released the one that belongs to our kind.”

  The name landed like a curse.

  Celica’s Embers.

  “The book that drives its user insane with power,” Kimpy continued. “The book that bends reality until reality stops arguing back.”

  Penny’s voice dropped—dangerous, certain.

  “If that calamity ever returns to this realm… it will tug on the old threads. The Sister-Series will stir.”

  Kimpy finished grimly.

  “And that starts a war.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “A war that wakes the evil dragon god Lunara.”

  Silence fell—heavy, absolute.

  Then Penny turned sharply.

  “Walk.”

  They forced Queen to follow them deeper into the valley—past the Dragon Council chambers, past ancient pillars carved with bloodline symbols, until they reached a massive sealed gate.

  The Chamber.

  The one Queen and Ace had opened centuries ago.

  As they approached, the shadows moved.

  A black chain shot out like a striking serpent.

  It wrapped tight around Queen’s body and yanked her backward.

  She slammed into stone hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs—dragged across the ground until she hit the feet of something tall.

  Something old.

  The shadows parted.

  Drakorya stepped forward.

  Rings of ancient authority floated above her horns and wings, glowing with council power. Black lightning crawled along her body, and shadow chains drifted around her like living extensions of her will.

  Queen’s breath hitched.

  “…Mother.”

  Tears filled her eyes instantly.

  She tried to crawl forward, trembling.

  “I missed you…”

  Penny and Kimpy surged—claws igniting, instincts screaming.

  Kimpy growled low.

  “Do not interfere, Drakorya.”

  Penny’s eyes burned.

  “Your daughters are outcasts. Their crimes shattered the world.”

  Drakorya’s gaze hardened.

  “I am fully aware of their sins.”

  Her voice rolled like thunder.

  “But they are still my hatchlings.”

  Kimpy scoffed.

  “You’ve always been too soft on them.”

  Drakorya’s chains rattled sharply.

  “And you’ve always ruled without ever knowing what it means to love a child.”

  The insult struck deep.

  Penny’s jaw tightened.

  Queen collapsed to her knees between them, forehead pressed to the ground.

  “I accept any judgment,” she begged. “Please… don’t fight because of me.”

  The Dragon Council emerged then—six ancient dragons, silent as stone.

  One spoke calmly.

  “She returned willingly.”

  Another added:

  “She submits to judgment.”

  Penny’s eyes flashed.

  “Then I will deliver it.”

  She lunged.

  But Drakorya moved faster.

  Not to protect Queen from pain—

  to protect her from death.

  In a single brutal motion—

  Drakorya seized Queen’s wings and tore.

  The chamber echoed with Queen’s scream.

  Blood spilled across the stone like a seal being written.

  Drakorya’s hands trembled as she held the torn wings.

  Tears streamed down her face.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You may hate me for this…”

  Her throat tightened.

  “…but no one else will judge my child.”

  Penny growled, furious.

  “That punishment was mine to deliver.”

  Drakorya shook her head slowly.

  “No.”

  Her voice softened—painfully.

  “This was not a queen’s judgment.”

  A pause.

  “This was a mother’s.”

  Queen lay shaking in her own blood, wings gone, breath ragged.

  Not dead.

  Not free.

  Just… returned to the nest as something that could no longer fly away.

  Elsewhere—inside the Elven Empire throne room—

  Derpy walked slowly across the chamber floor.

  Behind him, Queen Vaeloria refused to move.

  “Stop this immediately,” she ordered.

  Derpy didn’t turn.

  “No,” he said quietly.

  “Follow.”

  Vaeloria’s jaw tightened.

  She tried to resist.

  Then pain detonated through her body—burning command magic, the same kind she had used on him.

  Only now it felt… reflected.

  Magnified.

  She screamed.

  Collapsed.

  And the palace watched a queen learn what it meant to be made to obey.

  Vaeloria rose—shaking, furious, humiliated—

  and followed.

  Derpy stopped before Queen Seraphine.

  “You didn’t harm me,” he said calmly. “But your knights took something from someone important to me.”

  Seraphine didn’t flinch.

  “I did,” she admitted.

  Derpy’s eyes narrowed.

  “How many calamity users do you control?”

  “One,” she answered.

  “Summon them.”

  “I cannot,” she said. “Orcial Vash is unconscious.”

  Derpy nodded once.

  “When he wakes, bring the user to me.”

  Seraphine’s voice stayed even.

  “I will.”

  Then she added, measured as a blade:

  “You are making enemies of both the Elven Empire and the Faydurn Kingdom.”

  Derpy laughed.

  A broken, unstable laugh that didn’t belong in a throne room.

  “That’s fine.”

  His hoodie shifted from red to black.

  His pants reversed from black to red.

  Mia and Sphinx growled beside him—low, warning, ready.

  Derpy knelt and touched them gently, like he was reminding himself what “care” felt like.

  “It’s time we make a stand,” he said softly.

  “Calamity bearers are not tools.”

  “We are people.”

  He lifted his hand.

  The collars on Seraphine vanished—

  but a crest formed in their place: a skull with red tears, stamped onto the back of her neck like a brand.

  “You’re free,” Derpy told her, voice calm as a verdict. “But if you go against what I asked you to do…”

  His eyes dimmed a fraction.

  “…the collar comes back. And the pain will intensify.”

  Seraphine’s expression didn’t change.

  But her throat moved as she swallowed.

  Derpy’s gaze sharpened.

  “And control your daughter. What she did was unacceptable.”

  Seraphine nodded once.

  Solemn.

  “Yes.”

  Back in the mess hall—

  Ace sat at a long stone table that didn’t belong to any castle.

  It belonged to the Valley.

  Across from her sat Drakorya.

  “You must choose a mate,” her mother said coldly.

  “Everything in this valley follows hierarchy and control.”

  “If we want something—we take it.”

  “If we desire someone—we claim them.”

  “That is dragon law.”

  Ace hesitated.

  “But what if we don’t want to—”

  SMACK.

  Drakorya struck her.

  Shadow chains shot out, binding Ace to her chair.

  Her mother’s voice hardened.

  “You will remember your place.”

  The chains tightened.

  And Ace remembered.

  The rules.

  The law.

  The cage she had escaped.

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