Previously ~
Sophie knelt beside them both, brushing Hazel's hair back from her face. "…Foolish boy," she whispered. "But maybe you're your father's son after all." Leon smiled faintly, hugging his little sister close. And as the wind picked up, Orrenys lifted her gaze toward the skies. "They're coming," she said. "We need to move. Now."
—---------------------------------------------------------
Scene: Skies Above Duskrane County – Near the Veilspire Mountains
The dragons flew low now, mist clinging to their wings like ghostly shrouds. Below them, the land twisted into unnatural shapes—dark forests, jagged cliffs, and valleys that swallowed light. It felt as though they were gliding over the spine of some ancient beast, coiled and waiting.
Amelia's armor gleamed dully in the faint light filtering through the fog. She narrowed her eyes, surveying the land below. Beside her, Vincent guided Vyrrhala with a calm focus, though the dragon's wings beat more cautiously than before.
"We're nearing Duskrane's borders," Amelia said. "Where's the stone gate?"
"There." Vincent pointed toward a narrow cleft at the foot of the mountain—barely visible through the veil of fog. A stone arch loomed ahead, ancient and moss-covered, like the mouth of a sleeping god.
"That's the only entrance," he said. "But no one passes through it without facing the fog... or worse."
Behind them, Caelvyrn let out a low growl. Ilyra and the Wolf Squad had drawn weapons instinctively.
Then they saw it.
Another light—glinting steel on the ground. Rows of armor. Helmets. Crimson tabards.
The Templars.
"They're already here," Ilyra hissed.
Amelia's jaw tightened. "How did they get past the gate?"
"They didn't," Vincent said grimly. "They're trying to carve their own way through."
He gestured toward Grimhowl Ridge, where the fog churned unnaturally. Makeshift camps dotted the slope, their torches flickering weakly in the gloom. Templars hammered holy wards into the soil. A priest stood chanting, his voice muffled by the mist.
Then came the howls.
From the shadows of Daggerpine Hollow, dozens of glowing eyes opened.
"I warned them," Vincent whispered.
Monsters began to stir—slithering between trees, scaling the cliffs. Twisted wolves, long-limbed horrors, and ghostly shades crept toward the light, drawn like moths to flame.
Screams rang out.
The Templars broke formation as the first wave struck. Steel clashed. Flames erupted. But the fog only thickened, swallowing the chaos whole.
"They've awakened the monsters," Amelia said, her voice low with dread.
Vincent nodded. "Duskrane was never defended by walls or soldiers. The land is the defense."
Amelia turned to Ilyra. "We need to reach the gate. Entering properly is the only way. Anything else is suicide."
"But the Templars…" Ilyra hesitated, eyes on the carnage below. "Do we help them?"
Amelia's hand hovered over her sword. "We protect the land. That means not letting it fully awaken. If these creatures spill beyond the mountains…"
Vincent's expression darkened. "Then all of Leonhart and Tigranclaw will burn."
The dragons veered toward the true entrance—the stone gate. As they passed through, the mist parted only briefly to let them in.
BAM.
The massive stone doors slammed shut behind them. Ancient runes lit up across the gate's surface:
ᚠᚢᚦᚨ ᛒᚨᚾ ᛊᚺᚱ ᛚᛟᚾᚷᛖ ᚠᚱᛖᛖ
Only one among them knew the meaning:
"Gate of Chains shall not open again."
At the training grounds, Vyrrhala and Caelvyrn landed with force—
WHAM.
Their descent sent tremors through the ancient stone. Dust scattered.
CREAK.
The great doors of the castle opened, groaning under their own weight. Mist spilled into the hall like breath from a long-forgotten tomb.
Amelia stepped forward, heart pounding.
"How is everyone? Are they safe?"
The Wolf Squad remained behind, securing supplies and sorting crates.
The heavy doors creaked open, and Amelia rushed into the hall.
"Mother! Father!" she cried, pulling Olivia into a tight embrace.
Olivia wrapped her arms around her, relief softening her eyes.
Thomas stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Amelia's head.
"Thank you… daughter."
Amelia nodded, but her gaze was already searching.
"Sister?"
She turned toward the corner of the room, where Orianne sat curled in on herself—her expression a storm of sorrow, betrayal, and guilt.
Amelia approached slowly. Orianne looked up—then broke.
"I-It's all my fault!" she sobbed, collapsing into Amelia's arms.
Amelia held her close, patting her back as tears streamed freely.
"I never… I never imagined my brother would do this…"
Her voice cracked.
"I'm sorry, Amelia. I'm sorry, Mother… Father… I—I don't know what to do…"
Olivia knelt beside her and gently cupped Orianne's cheeks.
"Shh… it's not your fault, dear," she whispered, drawing her into a quiet, maternal embrace.
Thomas spoke up, hesitant, his voice low.
"We all know your brother… the emperor… isn't himself. The Church has its claws deep."
Amelia's eyes swept the room.
"Where's Henry?"
Silence.
The warmth in the room vanished, replaced by a suffocating tension.
Olivia turned to her husband, her voice tight.
"Thomas… where is Henry?"
He stepped back, the color draining from his face. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
"H-He… well—"
"He's headed to the capital."
The voice came from behind—Vincent. Calm. Final.
The words hit like thunder.
Orianne froze. Her tears stopped, but her hands began to tremble violently.
"H-He's… in the capital?" she asked, barely audible. Her lips quivered.
No one answered.
"No… please. Someone—stop him…" Her voice cracked again, fragile as glass. "Please…"
Olivia brushed her cheeks again, voice gentle.
"I understand, my dear."
Thomas stepped forward, choosing each word with care.
"Trust him. Henry loves you. That's why he's going there."
"N-No…" she stammered, shaking her head. "He doesn't understand… I can't lose him too…"
Orianne—once cheerful, bright, always the calmest among them—was now unraveling before their eyes. Betrayed by her own blood, now watching her husband walk willingly into the heart of danger.
CLANG!
A steel blade dropped to the stone floor. All heads turned.
Sophie stood in the doorway, with Leon and Hazel flanking her. Behind them, silent and veiled in shadow, was Orrenys.
The quiet was broken as Orrenys stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a ticking clock. She bowed with grace.
"Master, Lady Sophie has been escorted," she said, then glanced briefly at Leon and Hazel. "Though I must apologize for a few… minor disruptions."
Vincent let out a weary sigh.
"Understood."
Orrenys straightened, then met his gaze.
"Shall I summon Vaelgoryn?"
Vincent exhaled sharply through his nose. "Do it."
CRACK!
The air split. Space itself fractured like glass, and a rift opened midair, birthing a silent void. A presence stirred beyond its veil.
CLANG!
Thomas drew his sword without hesitation.
"Please, sheath your sword, Grandpa," Vincent said calmly. "He's a friend."
Reluctantly, Thomas stepped back and lowered his blade.
STEP. STEP.
From the rift emerged a man. His black hair shimmered like polished obsidian, his skin pale against the candlelight. As he casually swept his hair back, a pair of crimson eyes gleamed—red as twin shards of ruby.
He leaned against the stone wall with practiced ease, dressed in sleek black trousers and a dark, fitted shirt adorned with muted floral patterns. He looked like a portrait half-finished—refined, yet with a deliberate disregard for convention.
"Vincent!" he called out, waving casually. His gaze shifted to Orrenys.
He straightened his clothes, brushing his hair.
"Ah, Orrenys. Fancy meeting you here. What a delightful coincidence."
Orrenys tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush.
"I am well, Lord Vaelgoryn."
Vaelgoryn chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"So… what's happened here, exactly?"
He finally turned to the others in the hall—family members still frozen, clearly unsure what to make of his sudden appearance.
Thomas narrowed his eyes.
"Vincent, what is that?"
Vaelgoryn threw up his hands in mock offense.
"Excuse me! I'm not that. I'm a person. A very charming one, I might add."
Everyone stared at Vaelgoryn, then turned to Vincent in disbelief.
Vincent cleared his throat, completely unfazed.
"Ehem… he's my friend. Prince of Dragons, Vaelgoryn."
He said it casually—like announcing an old classmate had come over for tea. Which, in truth, wasn't far from the mark.
Vaelgoryn gave a mock bow as he sauntered over.
"Correction. I'm the King of Dragons now."
Vincent raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Since when?"
Vaelgoryn gave a smug little snort.
"Just at breakfast."
A beat of stunned silence passed through the room.
Olivia blinked twice, voice uncertain.
"Vincent… what are you calling the prince—King of Dragons—for?"
Thomas slowly turned his head toward Vincent, his jaw slack. Hazel's eyes were wide, Leon looked like he was trying not to choke on air, and Sophie just stared like someone watching history break reality.
Vincent simply shrugged, brushing past the weight of the moment.
STEP. STEP.
He walked over to Orianne and gently took her trembling hands in his.
"Don't worry, Mother," he said softly. "I'll make sure Father comes back safe."
Orianne's brows knitted.
"W-What? ... Vincent, what are you—"
Before she could finish, a soft hum of energy filled the air. Purple light began to swirl around Vincent's form, wrapping him like a cocoon.
Gasps filled the hall as his form shimmered and shifted—until an older version of him emerged. Eighteen, sharp-eyed, cloaked in Duskrane's spectral energy.
He glanced around at his stunned family.
"I am a Duskrane, Mother," he said firmly. "I won't hide anymore."
WHAM!
Vaelgoryn raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The heavy doors to the training grounds burst open. Dark mist coiled around him, thick and cold. His silhouette warped and twisted, expanding as shadows danced like flame.
Then—silence.
The mist vanished.
In his place stood a massive obsidian dragon. His scales shimmered like molten midnight, eyes blazing crimson. A wicked smirk tugged at his draconic lips.
Orrenys brought her hands to her chest, lips parted in awe.
Olivia and Thomas stood rooted in place. Even Leon's sword hand faltered slightly.
Then—
WHAM!
Two enormous shapes landed outside the hall. Caelvyrn and Vyrrhala had arrived, lowering their heads in reverence.
"We greet the Dragon Prince, Vaelgoryn," they intoned in unison, voices deep and rumbling.
Vaelgoryn snorted, his wings giving a lazy stretch.
"It's King now."
Without missing a beat, they bowed again.
"We greet the Dragon King."
Caelvyrn grinned, the corner of his snout curling in mischief.
"My lord, perhaps now you'll attend to your royal duties… since you're king and all."
Vaelgoryn blinked. A beat passed.
A faint wave of realization hit him like a rock to the skull.
"…Now that I think about it," he mumbled, "Dragon Prince does have a nice ring to it."
Everyone burst out laughing.
"Put me down!" a tiny voice squeaked from Caelvyrn's jaws.
All heads turned sharply.
The massive dragon gently opened his maw, and out tumbled Raphael, landing with a dramatic little stumble before puffing up his cheeks indignantly. "That's not how you carry a prince!"
There was a beat of silence… then muffled laughter broke out among the adults.
But before anyone could respond—
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.
The Wolf Squad burst into the hall, armor clinking, each of them holding a squirming child in their arms.
"Duchess!" one of them called out. "We—we found these two inside the supply crates!"
In the arms of the warriors were Delphine and Evangeline, giggling uncontrollably, their little faces flushed from excitement and mischief. One of them was still clutching a box of muffins.
"They smuggled themselves in with this," another soldier added, holding up the half-empty box.
The sisters squealed with laughter.
"We wanted to see the dragons!" Delphine beamed, crumbs on her dress.
"Yeah!" Evangeline kicked her legs. "And we brought snacks!"
Just then, Hazel toddled forward and waved excitedly. "I missed you!" she chirped.
The girls wiggled free from the arms holding them and sprinted across the hall.
At the same time, Leon ran to Raphael, his eyes shining. "How are you, Ralph? It's been forever!"
They bumped shoulders like tiny comrades reuniting after a long campaign.
Meanwhile, the adults stood frozen—utterly dumbfounded.
Then, in perfect unison, came the collective groan:
"How did this even happen?"
Amelia facepalmed. Olivia looked like she might faint. Thomas muttered something about hiring a new logistics officer.
Vincent just shook his head. "This is a disaster. A tiny, muffin-filled disaster."
At the heart of the chaos, Orianne had fallen to her knees, arms outstretched as the girls barreled into her.
She caught all three, cradling them close as emotion swept over her like a wave. Her laughter was mixed with tears as she whispered, "You reckless little stars…"
She kissed their foreheads, holding them as if letting go might scatter them again.
Off to the side, Vaelgoryn blinked at the scene, thoroughly baffled. He leaned toward Vincent with a sideways glance.
"You know… this might be the weirdest family gathering I've ever attended."
Vincent exhaled long and slow. "Welcome to Duskrane."