Everything changed when they finally entered Primara as themselves, rather than as outsiders, prisoners, or messengers. The world opened up. The streets were alive. Laughter spilled from open windows, merchants called out with cheerful voices, and the rich scent of spices, baked goods, and fresh herbs drifted through the air like an invisible invitation. Color seemed to exist everywhere—woven into fabrics, painted across stalls, reflected in the scales of dragons that walked freely among the people. Starfania slowed her steps. Taking it all in. Really taking it in. This wasn't just a nation. It was a feeling.
" Look at those!" She gasped suddenly, her eyes lighting up as she pointed toward a stall overflowing with vibrant fabrics—deep purple, gold-threaded silks, flowing blues that shimmered like water. Violet didn't hesitate.
" We have to check that out!" she laughed, already grabbing Starfania's sleeves. " Come on! Let's get lost in the colors!"
Aeron shook his head with a grin, already walking ahead.
" Try not to buy the entire stall," he called over his shoulder.
" No promises!" Vi shot back instantly.
They moved deeper into the market. And the deeper they went, the more alive everything felt. A street performer tossed glowing orbs in the air, drawing cheers from a crowd of children. Unafraid. Starfania felt it in her chest. That lightness. That freedom. And beyond that market—Primara stretched into something even more breathtaking. Rolling green fields danced in the wind, dotted with bursts of wildflowers in every color imaginable. The sky above was a vast cerulean canvas, endless and open, while distant mountains stood tall like silent guardians of the land.
The dragon soared overhead. Not as weapons. Not as tools. But as companions. As equals. Living. Thriving. Belonging. Starfania slowed again. Her steps softened. Her gaze drifted. Because beneath all that beauty...something stirred. A quiet ache. For a moment, Primara blurred. And in its place. VulcanFire. Not as it was now. But as it used to be. Her hand instinctively moved to her side. To her sword—Cosmry. It pulsed faintly. Soft. Steady. Like a heartbeat. Like it was her. Her chest tightened. Because she knew the feeling. This wasn't just admiration. This was a memory. She saw it—her home. Filled with life. With color. With laughter.
Festivals that stretched across streets, music echoing through the air, people dancing beneath banners that fluttered in the wind. Dragons flying freely above. Not feared. Not controlled. Celebrated. And him. Her father. Cesar. Not the man he had become...But the one he used to be. She could almost feel it—Being lifted onto his shoulders. His laughter. Warm. Unburdened. The way he would greet people like they were family, his smile genuine, his presence larger than life. She remembered how safe it felt. How whole everything felt. And her mother. And her brother. All of them together. A family. Then—it shifted. Like a crack forming in glass.
The laughter faded. Colors dimmed. The warmth...disappeared. She saw him again. But not the same. Colder. Distant. Eyes hardened by grief and something darker. A man who built walls instead of connections. Who turned dragons into something...less? Starfania stopped walking. Completely. Her gaze drifted toward a distant mountain peak where sunlight painted the stone in gold. Beautiful. Untouchable. Her chest ached. Because she missed him. Even now. Even after everything.
" I wish you were here..." she whispered softly, barely audible. Not the king. Not the man he became. But her father. Her fingers tightened slightly at her side. Each step she had taken in Primara only made the contrast sharper. Brighter. Painfully clear. Around her, life continued. Villagers laughed. Dragons played.
A small hatchling chased a butterfly, stumbling clumsily before finally pounding—only for the butterfly to escape again. The child nearby giggled. The dragons chirped happily. And despite everything—a small smile found its way onto Starfania's face. Fragile but real. She took a slow breath. Filled her lungs with the scent of flowers and fresh air. Letting it ground her. Then—a memory surfaced. Clearer than the rest. Her father kneeling in front of her when she was younger. His hand rested gently on her head. His voice was softer than she had ever heard it.
" Remember this..."
" These are the words of our people when we face battles no one else can see."
She could almost feel his hand again. Warm. Steady.
" Keep your wings up..." A pause. A faint smile. " ...but your heart is steady."
Her eyes softened. The ache didn't disappear. But it changed. Shifted. Into something she could carry. Starfania straightened slightly. Taking another step forward. Then another. Because even if things had changed...even if he had changed...that part of him—that lesson—still lived in her. And maybe...just maybe...she could carry it forward. In a way, he no longer could.