Cantina didn't answer right away. Instead—she turned her gaze back toward Cesar. Watching him. Carefully. For a moment, there was no distance in her eyes. No detachment. Only understanding.
" He is fueled by grief," Cantina said at last, her voice calm—but heavier now. Starfania followed her gaze. Her chest tightening again.
" His emotions are…unbalanced," Cantina continued. " Raw. Unresolved. And because of that…"
A pause. " He is not thinking clearly."
Starfania swallowed. Her fingers curled slightly.
" He doesn't want power for the sake of conquest," Cantina added. " He wants to numb the pain."
Those words hit differently.
" But pain," Cantina said softly, " when left unchecked…spreads."
Her eyes shifted. From Cesar—to Starfania. " And now…it is harming Avalon."
Before Starfania could respond—Cantina lifted her hand. The world shifted again. Not a memory this time. Something else. Something broader. Starfania gasped softly as the ground beneath her seemed to dissolve into fragments of moving images—scenes unfolding all at once. VulcanFire camps. Not just one. Many. Dragons chained. Forced into submission. Some resisted—only to be struck down. Others…too weak to fight. Smoke rising into the sky. Villages displaced. Forests burned to make room for expansion.
People arguing. Fear is a state for some. Some are loyal. Some…unsure. And at the center of it all—Cesar. Issuing orders. Driving everything forward. Not out of cruelty alone—but out of something deeper. Something broken. Starfania's breath hitched. Her chest was tightening painfully as she watched.
" This…" Cantina said quietly, her voice echoing through the visions, " is what he tried to shield you from."
Starfania shook her head slightly. " No…no, he wouldn't—"
But the images didn't stop.
" They always try to protect the ones they love," Cantina continued. " Even when they are the ones causing the damage."
The visions slowed. Fading slightly.
" You wanted to know why another Dragon Savior was chosen after so many years," Cantina said. Everything is still. " This…is why."
Silence. Heavy. Final. " Here is the honesty you asked for."
Starfania's chest rose and fell unevenly. Her eyes fixed on the fading remnants of what she had seen. " The one your father tried to hide from you."
Cantina's gaze softened—just slightly. " The sword you carry…Cosmry…"
Starfania instinctively touched it.
" It is not just a weapon," Cantina continued. " It was the first blade forged for the Dragon Savior."
Her voice lowered. Almost reverent. " The first time Avalon stood on the edge of collapse…it was not war that nearly destroyed it."
A pause. " It was an emotion."
Starfania's breath caught.
" Grief. Rage Loss." Cantina looked back toward where Cesar had stood. " Powerful emotions…left unchecked…nearly consumed everything."
Her eyes returned to Starfania. " And now…"
A quiet, undeniable truth. " History is repeating itself."
The silence that followed stretched long. Unbroken. Starfania didn't move at first. Didn't speak. Then—slowly—she took a breath. Deep. Unsteady. " I'm sorry…"
Her voice was soft. Fragile. " I shouldn't have raised my voice."
Cantina didn't interrupt. Didn't move.
" The truth is…" Starfania continued, her fingers tightening slightly, " I've been struggling with all of this."
Her gaze dropped.
" The title…being the Dragon Savior…" A small, shaky exhale. " It's more than I ever imagined."
She swallowed. " I keep thinking about everything that could go wrong. About making the wrong choices…about failing the dragons…"
Her voice faltered. " …about not being enough."
Then—quieter. More vulnerable. " And the thought of facing my father one day…"
Her chest tightened again. " It makes it worse."
She couldn't stand anymore. Her legs gave slightly as she moved toward a nearby pillar, lowering herself to the ground. She pulled her knees close, arms wrapping around them as if trying to hold herself together. And then—she stopped holding back. The tears came. Freely. All at once. Everything she had been carrying—the fear. The pressure. The guilt. It broke through; the loneliness did. And she let it. Cantina said nothing. She simply stepped closer…and knelt beside her. Silent. Steady. Not trying to fix it. Not trying to explain it away. Just…there. And somehow—that was enough.
Starfania's breathing slowly steadied. Her tears easing, though not fully gone. After a moment, she lifted her head slightly. Her eyes met Cantina's.
" How did you handle it?" she asked quietly. " Being the Dragon Savior…"
Cantina didn't answer right away. For the first time, she looked away. And something shifted.
" I…can't remember," she admitted softly. Starfania blinked. " What?"
Cantina exhaled slowly.
" My time as the Dragon Savior…" she said. " It's…fragmented."
Her voice was distant. " Everything was a blur."
She ran a hand through her hair absentmindedly. " There was always something happening. Someone needing help. A decision that had to be made."
Her expression tightened slightly. " It was overwhelming."
Starfania listened carefully.
" I feel like I was living a life that wasn't mine," Cantina continued. " Like I was being shaped into something I didn't choose."
A faint, bittersweet smile crossed her face. " Every day was a test."
Starfania hesitated. Then asked quietly, " Did you ever think about walking away?"
Cantina let out a breath. " Every minute."
A pause. " But then I remembered…the people who believed in me."
Her gaze softened. " The lives I could protect…if I didn't give up."
She looked back at Starfania. " It was a burden."
Then—gently — " And a reason to keep going."
Starfania's grip on her knees loosened slightly.
" In the end…" Cantina said, her voice steadier now, " it was never about me."
Something settled deep within Starfania.
" How did you keep going?" she asked softly. Cantina's answer came without hesitation this time. " I remembered who I was…before the title."
A slight pause. " In the quiet moments. In the people who stayed beside me."
Her eyes held Starfania's. " They remind me I was still me."
Not just a role. Not just a responsibility. " I'm allowed to feel. To fail. To grow."
A beat. " And so are you."
The words landed gently. But firmly. " You don't have to carry this alone, Starfania."
For the first time, in what felt like forever—the tightness in Starfania's chest eased. Just a little. A small warmth flickered.
" Thank you…" she whispered. Almost shyly. Because she meant it. More than she could fully put into words.