The wind had barely calmed from the dragon's departure, and yet the air still carried his weight—as though his presence hadn't quite left. The sky was quiet, save for the rustle of trees and the distant crackle of mana threads hanging faint in the atmosphere. We stood in silence, each of us gripping the enormity of what had just been revealed.
Feroshi. The dragon of glass. A warning made flesh.
I stared at the fading shimmer where he once stood, trying to steady my breathing. War. Another dragon war. A forgotten age clawing its way back into the present. The taste of dread was bitter on my tongue.
The Queen finally broke the silence.
"A declaration of war…" she murmured, her eyes lost to the horizon. "So be it. If the flames are to rise again, then we must prepare the pyres to meet them."
Makunishita stepped beside her. "Your Majesty… should the Circle of Elders be summoned?"
She nodded once. "At dawn. And double the border patrols. Not just the mountain passes—send word to the outer isles. Nothing comes through without my seal."
I hesitated, then spoke. "Even if we reinforce the borders, it won't be enough. Not against dragonkind… not if what he said is true."
The Queen turned her gaze toward me, her expression unreadable. "Which is why we won't rely on borders alone."
I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"
"The Temple of Threads," she said softly. "We'll go there. Tonight."
My pulse skipped. "To seek the Celestial Order?"
"They will not intervene," Makunishita interjected sharply. "The Loomwardens remain silent unless—"
"Unless fate itself begins to unravel," I finished for him.
The Queen looked back toward the balcony where moonlight spilled across marble. "Fate is already bleeding through its seams. Feroshi's warning was not merely a whisper—it was a crack. And the Order must see it before it becomes a chasm."
She turned to me, and there was something sharp and certain in her voice.
"You'll come with me."
I blinked, unsure I'd heard correctly. "Me?"
"The Loomwardens are ancient, stubborn, and slow to move. But they listen more closely to those untouched by kingdom loyalties. A vampire heir wandering far from her broken bloodline… You may be the only one they cannot dismiss."
For a moment, I didn't respond. My fingers curled at my sides. What did they see when they looked at me? An outsider? A remnant of a dying house? Or simply a pawn without a place to anchor herself?
Still, I answered with what strength I could gather. "If it will help… if it will stop another war… then I'll speak whatever truth I must."
The Queen gave me the faintest nod—approval, perhaps, or sympathy. Or something colder.
Makunishita stepped forward, a crease in his brow. "Your Majesty, the road to the Temple is not simple. And if the Loomwardens see your approach as interference—"
"They'll test us," the Queen said. "I'm prepared for that. We must all be."
I swallowed down my unease. The Loomwardens. Guardians of the Threads. Those ancient beings didn't just test strength. They tested intent. Soul. Purpose. Would I be enough?
"We leave by silver caravan," the Queen declared. "At first light. No formal procession. No announcement. Just those necessary for the journey."
Then she looked at me one last time. "Rest if you can. We won't return the same."
I nodded, though I knew rest would not come. My thoughts were a storm now—dragons resurrecting forgotten wars, cursed runes etched into younglings, and the ghost of a child whose bones were found in a place it never should've been.
The world was unraveling.
And I—I was walking straight into the heart of the loom.
The sun had just begun its descent, casting long shadows through the golden canopies of the elven forest. The village was alive with murmurs—elders arguing beneath hanging lanterns, guardians sharpening blades under moonlit canopies, and couriers running from tree to tree with messages bearing the Queen's seal.
The Queen stood firm amidst the noise, regal even without a throne beneath her. She addressed the assembly of elven elders one final time, her voice echoing clear beneath the woven roots of the council hall.
"We cannot afford to wait for the storm to reach our walls. We move ahead—to the Temple of Threads. Let the Loomwardens see what has begun."
Her words rippled through the gathering like a cold wind.
After the final bow and dismissal, the Queen turned to prepare.
"My Majesty, is it truly wise to leave without the guardians?" asked Duke, voice tinged with concern. His silver hair shimmered with unease beneath the torchlight. "Should something befall you—"
"I will be fine on my journey," the Queen answered calmly, without pause. "Don't worry, Duke. I won't easily die."
It was said with the certainty of someone who had survived wars, betrayals, and the impossible. Even so, I noticed her gloved fingers linger at the hilt of her ceremonial dagger for a moment too long. She wasn't being fearless. She was being necessary.
I spent the hours before our departure among the villagers. The western quarter had suffered minor damage from the previous encounter with the wyverns—collapsed rooftops, cracked stones, and shattered glasswork enchanted with protective sigils that clearly failed.
So I helped.
I hauled the stone beams too heavy for the elders, lifted water barrels, and raised lantern poles back to their rightful place. At first, there was hesitance in their eyes. A vampire walking through an elven village, sleeves rolled up, hands dirtied by mortal labor—no titles, no airs. Just me. And a silent offering of help.
A young girl even passed me a small woven charm as thanks. A ward against "moon-touched spirits." I accepted it anyway. Superstition or not, it was kindness.
By twilight, the air felt less tense around me. Their eyes no longer flinched at my fangs. They began to speak to me by name.
Above, my companion soared silently—my winged wolf, cutting through the dusky sky like a streak of shadowed wind. Its wings shimmered with mana, and looped over the trees, vigilant. I had told the winged wolf earlier: Alert me the moment something feels out of place—scent, sound, movement.
The forest tonight felt... quieter. As if the woods themselves held their breath, listening to the shifting threads of fate.
When I returned to the Queen's side, we stood at the mouth of the forest trail—an ancient path carved with symbols only visible to spirit-touched eyes. The first stitch toward the Temple.
"Can we truly arrive tonight?" I asked, more to myself than anyone else.
The Queen met my gaze. "The Temple bends time in strange ways. If the Loomwardens wish us there... we will arrive."
And if they don't?
I didn't voice the question. I only clutched the charm the child gave me and followed into the waiting dark.
The moon was high.
The path had begun.
Before I could place my foot forward, before the wind could part the tall grass ahead of me, a voice pierced through the silence of our departure.
"W-Wait! Wait! Don't go yet!"
Popu.
Her tiny feet pounded against the wooden path as she rushed from the village gates, her hair undone, crown of wildflowers still perched unevenly on her head. She was out of breath, cheeks puffed, arms flailing as she stumbled toward us.
"Popu?" I blinked, surprised. "What are you doing out here—?"
Before I could say more, she threw herself into my arms with a force that nearly toppled me.
"You're leaving without saying goodbye again!" she huffed, squeezing tightly around my waist. "I was waiting... I wanted to see you before you go."
I glanced down. Her small fingers clutched the edge of my cloak like she thought I might dissolve if she let go.
The Queen knelt down beside us, her robes brushing the ground.
Popu turned to her next, wrapping her arms around the Queen's neck in a trembling embrace. "You too, Your Highness! You promised to teach me the star-song next full moon. You have to come back for it!"
"I will," the Queen said softly, her voice warmer than I'd heard it all day. "And I'll expect you to remember every note when I return."
Popu gave one final squeeze, then turned to me again.
"You'll come back too, right?" she asked, her eyes big and unsure, voice cracking. "You promised we'd play again. I even kept the stones from last time—so you have to come back. No being scary or dead or weird, okay?"
I crouched, meeting her at eye level, then touched my forehead lightly against hers.
"I'll come back," I whispered. "And next time... you can show me how to win the game for real."
Her smile cracked through the tears like sunlight through rain.
She stepped back slowly, finally letting go.
The winged wolf gave a low growl overhead, circling once.
It was time.
I rose once more, cloak brushing the wind behind me, and nodded to the Queen.
Popu waved with both arms as we turned. "Don't forget! You promised!"
Her voice echoed even as the woods began to shift around us—light distorting, shadows crawling toward a different world with every step.
I didn't look back.
But I held the memory like a thread.
—A promise I must return to.