High above the clouds, Ali sat astride Abeloth, the dragon's massive wings carving through the air like blades. The wind tore past him, cold and fierce, but instead of helping, it dried the blood on his skin, making it harder to clean. He wiped at it with a cloth, grumbling under his breath. It clung to him like tar.
To his left, riding a few wingspans away on Eldora, was Seraphina. Her hood was drawn low and strapped tightly to the dragon's scales, protecting her from the rays of the sun above. Even in the skies, the ancient vampire knew how to survive. Her posture was regal, composed—but Ali could tell from the way she kept glancing at the coffin slung beneath Abeloth that her mind was elsewhere.
Abeloth's powerful forelimbs gripped the golden coffin tightly as they flew. Once her resting place for centuries, it now held something far more valuable than Seraphina's slumber—wealth. Mountains of silver coins spilled to the lid, gleaming faintly through the gaps. Loot taken from the bandits, enough to make a common merchant lord green with envy.
Ali leaned forward slightly, taking in the endless expanse of clouds and mountains below.
'I'm very rich now,' he thought, the realisation grounding him more than the wind. 'One silver is a week's wage for a commoner. Ten copper to a silver, a hundred silver to a gold. I've got three full chests of silver—and my gold bag's already heavy. This changes everything.'
From a minor baron with a ruined fort… to a rising force.
Back at Fort Stork…
The scent of over-steeped tea drifted through the air as two noblewomen faced each other across a makeshift wooden table. The air was warm, still, but the tension between them could've frozen the cups in their hands.
"Lady Fiona," began Lady Nolan, voice smooth as silk, "I'm sure you're now aware of the horrific acts House Cinder has committed against our innocent villagers. Such barbarism cannot be forgiven."
She paused delicately to sip her tea, the only civilised luxury left in the fort. "My husband, Lord Nolan, has already sent word to the viscount's advisor. It is only a matter of time before steel meets steel."
Fiona sat poised, her perfect posture unmoving. "Yes, of course. It was Lord Ali who saved your people, was it not?" Her tone was calm, razor-sharp. "Frankly, your house's lack of defence for its own villagers was… surprising."
Lady Nolan's eye twitched—barely—but Fiona saw it. Another point to her.
"We simply did not expect such savagery from supposedly civilised lords," Lady Nolan replied. "But now we've learned that even those of noble blood can descend into uncivilised acts."
Another sip. Another manoeuvre. This wasn't a conversation—it was war by etiquette.
"Lady Fiona," Lady Nolan continued, placing her cup down gently, "before I take my leave, I wanted to ask—did Lord Ali share his thoughts on the matter? Might he… perhaps… be interested in joining forces with House Nolan, in our righteous cause against House Cinder?"
Her eyes gleamed with careful curiosity, but Fiona remained unreadable. A still lake hiding a deep current.
"We only assumed control of this territory a few days ago," Fiona replied coolly. "Our focus is on rebuilding. Stabilising. Not rushing into a war between neighbours. Lord Ali has no current interest in joining the fight."
Lady Nolan's smile didn't falter, but something shifted in her posture. A subtle stiffening.
"Well," she said, rising from her seat, "I'm glad to hear that. It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Fiona. As neighbours, I do hope we can speak more often—perhaps you'll visit my estate next time?"
She turned to leave, but—
SLIP.
Fiona's teacup fell from her hand. It clattered to the table, tea spilling over the surface and onto her hand. She flinched slightly, feigning surprise.
Lady Nolan reacted instantly. "Allow me," she said, offering her embroidered handkerchief.
Fiona accepted it with a grateful nod and dabbed the tea from her skin. "Thank you."
Just as Lady Nolan reached the door, Fiona called out softly, "My lady…"
Lady Nolan turned.
Fiona held out a fresh handkerchief, smiling gently. "Please. So you're not without one."
Lady Nolan took it with a practiced smile and a faint nod, then exited the office.
But as she stepped into her carriage, her face shifted. The polite smile was gone. Replaced by cold calculation.
On the road…
Lady Nolan's carriage rumbled along the dirt trail, flanked by her knights on horseback. The mountains loomed ahead, casting long shadows across the path.
That's when both knights suddenly stiffened in their saddles. Their eyes darted to the skies above.
They reached for their swords instinctively, expressions frozen in disbelief.
Above the clouds, the dragons were descending.
ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR
The sound thundered across the valley like the sky itself had been split in two.
Abeloth, the crimson leviathan, screamed his return with a jet of fire that blasted skyward and erupted into a plume of thick black smoke. He dove through it seconds later, wings tucked, body streaking like a falling star. The clouds parted as his immense form descended, scales shimmering like molten armour.
Below, the villagers of Fort Stork stopped in their tracks. Tools were dropped, baskets forgotten, conversations cut short. They looked up, eyes wide, mouths agape.
Then—
Cheering.
Waving.
They raised their arms and hailed the skies. Their lord had returned.
Lady Nolan stared from her carriage window, jaw clenched in a rare moment of awe.
"Dragons…" she whispered.
Her heart skipped. This was no trained beast from the king's stables. This was a force of nature. Unleashed. Terrifying. Divine.
'Dragons are near-myth in most lands—only the Empire breeds them in numbers. Could he be… from there? From the Empire?' Her thoughts spiralled.
Behind her, both knights stayed tense in their saddles, hands twitching near sword hilts. The arrival of a second dragon made them visibly flinch.
Eldora, elegant and green like an emerald carved from the heart of the world, soared down behind Abeloth. Where he was brute power, she was grace incarnate. She touched down at the fortress's edge without even stirring dust.
Her head dipped low, obedient and serene.
From her back, Seraphina stepped down, hidden under a dark hood bound tightly to protect her from sunlight.
Ali followed her a moment later, landing beside her with casual confidence. The dragons flapped once more and soared upward, vanishing into the clouds to relieve the fragile fortress from their impossible weight.
Seraphina glanced at the ruined walls, crumbling stone, and scorched wood.
"So this is it?" she asked dryly. Her tone carried centuries of disdain, a vampire's aristocratic disappointment.
Ali didn't miss a beat. "I'm not thrilled either. But renovations are underway. You'll have to bear it for now. I assume it's still better than rotting in a coffin."
He looked back at the gold-plated coffin and crouched beside it, gripping it with one hand. His muscles tensed as he lifted it to his shoulder. The weight barely slowed him.
Seraphina followed behind, silent, until Ali added:
"Remember—you're just Seraphina. A human, like me. No feeding on anyone in this fort. I'll give you what you need to recover tonight."
She gave a nonchalant nod. "Don't worry. I won't eat your precious cattle."
Ali smirked. "Cattle, huh? That's funny."
She frowned. "What's funny about it?"
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. "I'm literally hauling my own livestock right now. One that reeks of blood and about four hundred years of not bathing."
Seraphina's jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed red for a moment—pure rage boiling beneath her disguise—but she inhaled slowly, exhaled, and regained control. Her irises returned to that unnatural but flawless human blue.
Together, they descended into the second level of the fort.
Waiting at the bottom were Fiona and Sarina, both of whom stopped mid-conversation as they saw the newcomers.
A stranger in black. Hooded. Silent. Following closely behind their blood-soaked lord.
Fiona narrowed her eyes. "Who is that?"
Ali didn't answer immediately. He looked around, exhaling. "What a warm welcome this is…"
He dropped the massive coffin onto the stone floor with a dull THUD. The sound echoed through the chamber. The lid was slightly ajar, and a glimpse of silver shimmered beneath it.
"Your lord returns from slaughtering a hundred bandits and not a single offer of a bath?" he said, half-mocking, half-serious. "And questions already?"
Fiona said nothing, but Sarina's eyes had locked onto the gold-trimmed coffin. Her breath caught.
Inside, nestled under the lid, was a mountain of silver. Gleaming. Clean. Heavy.
She couldn't stop staring.
That was more wealth than she'd ever seen in her life. Enough to buy land, a mansion, even a title. She could leave this cold stone prison behind and live the rest of her life as a noble lady.
She was practically trembling.
"I-I beg your pardon, my lord," Sarina stammered, eyes wide. "I will prepare your water immediately."
She turned to go, but—
Ali raised his hand. "Wait."
She froze.
Seraphina slowly reached up and pulled back the hood draped over her head.
The fabric fell away with a soft rustle, revealing her face in full for the first time.
Fiona and Sarina froze.
She was stunning—no, unreal. Her skin was pale but radiant, as if kissed by moonlight. Her eyes, an unnatural and seductive shade of blue, held a depth that made you want to look away but couldn't. Her features were symmetrical, refined, yet soft—cheekbones high, lips full.
She looked like a princess stolen from the heart of an empire. A woman sculpted by artists, bred for palaces, not war-torn forts.
Even Fiona, composed and elegant in her own right, couldn't help but feel a pang of… something. Not jealousy, not quite. Alertness.
Ali gestured toward her casually.
"This is Seraphina," he said. "She's my second advisor. She'll be staying with us from now on."
Seraphina gave a soft smile—uncharacteristically humble for a creature so prideful.
"Nice to meet you," she said, her tone softened to blend in. She spoke like a noblewoman visiting a lesser court—not as a queen, but not as a servant either.
"Likewise," Fiona replied, extending her hand with practiced grace. They shook. Fiona's gaze lingered—calculating. Then she turned to Ali, her look subtly asking, What is she really?
Ali ignored it.
"Let's head to my office while Sarina prepares the water," he said, already moving.
Sarina nodded and hurried away, practically sprinting down the steps to the lower levels.
The three of them walked in silence, the tension in the air thick but unspoken. Seraphina's presence disrupted the established order, even if no one said it outright. A beautiful stranger appearing overnight with a sealed past always did.
Ali pushed open the door to his office. The warm scent of wood, parchment, and oil greeted them. A soft breeze from the cracked window stirred the curtains slightly.
In the far corner, nestled in a hand-carved wooden crib, Fiona's daughter lay sleeping—peaceful, unaware of the powers gathering around her. The crib was simple but solid, one of Miles' recent crafts. The child stirred but did not wake.
"Lady Nolan just left before you arrived," Fiona said, closing the door behind her.
Ali tugged at the collar of his shirt, now dried stiff with old blood. His skin itched, the residue clinging like dried sap.
"Yeah, I saw her carriage heading out. What did she want?" he asked, voice tired but sharp.
"She was fishing. Trying to figure out who we really are, what we're planning. I gave her just enough ambition to think we might be trouble later, but not enough to think we're a threat right now." Fiona smiled faintly.
Ali gave a half-smirk. "Good job."
He reached into the inner pocket of his pants and tossed something her way.
Fiona caught it out of the air.
It glinted in her palm—a gold coin. But not just any gold. It had weight. It was thicker, smoother, and stamped with no royal insignia—pure, unmarked, and unmistakably foreign.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Empire mint? Merchant syndicates? Black markets?
"Gold? Foreign gold?" she asked, turning it over between her fingers.
"I'll reward you every time you impress me," Ali said simply, then turned away to face the wall. His eyes settled on a new addition to the room—something that hadn't been there before.
A mirror.
But not just any mirror.
Its edges were rimmed in a faint metallic casing. Too perfect. Too symmetrical. And at each corner, something like etched runes or maybe… circuitry?
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