Silence falls over the desert.
The figure descends the dune with slow, deliberate steps, the children following in their wake. As they draw closer, I get my first clear look at them.
Male. Tall—easily seven feet. Muscular build, with bronze skin and dark hair that falls to his shoulders. He's dressed in simple, practical clothing—leather and cloth designed for desert travel—but it's his eyes that catch my attention.
Golden. Serpentine. With slitted pupils that gleam in the fading light.
Snake or perhaps Dragon eyes.
But not like mine. Not like Ghatak's.
These are different. Older. Stranger.
He stops a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over our group before settling on me. For a long moment, we just stare at each other, and I feel the weight of his power pressing against mine.
He's strong. Incredibly strong.
But so am I.
"You're dragons," he says finally, his voice deep and resonant. It's not a question.
"We are," I reply, keeping my tone neutral. "And you are?"
His lips quirk into a faint smile. "Arsenal Striker. And these"—he gestures to the children—"are my sons and daughters. Ruben, Rosie, Jasper, Jet, Lily, Onyx, Willow, Malachi, Jasmine, and Zircon."
I glance at the children. They're young, ranging in age from maybe eight to fifteen, but they all have the same golden eyes as their father. And they all radiate power.
Dragon children.
"You're looking for Thronkaville," Arsenal says, his gaze flicking to Kael and his companions. "The hidden settlement."
"We are," Ghatak says, stepping up beside me. "Do you know where it is?"
Arsenal's expression darkens. "I do. But that's not where you need to go. Not yet."
"Then where?" I ask.
"Concord," he says. "It's an outpost settlement. Hidden. Protected. There are... people there. People who need help."
"What kind of people?"
His jaw tightens. "Slaves. Refugees. People who've escaped from Aerox's system and are hiding in the desert. Thousands of them."
Thousands.
I exchange a glance with Ghatak. His expression is carefully neutral, but I can feel his interest through our bond.
"Why are you telling us this?" I ask.
Arsenal's golden eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see something raw in them. Desperation. Hope.
"Because I've been searching for someone," he says quietly. "My mate. And our eggs. She escaped from... from a place. A terrible place. And I've been looking for her ever since."
His mate.
My mind races. Silver hair. Amnesia. Eggs.
Could it be...?
"Your mate," I say slowly. "What can you tell us about her?"
Arsenal's jaw tightens, and I see pain flash across his face. "I don't know her name. She... she couldn't tell me. When she fell through the corrupted veil into the pit where I was trapped, she was unconscious. I kept her alive for three months while..." He pauses, his voice breaking slightly. "While one hundred and twenty-five eggs developed between us. Our bond... it was immediate. Powerful. But when she woke, she had no memory. Nothing. She didn't know who she was, where she came from, or even her own name."
No name.
The realization sends a chill through me.
"What did she look like?" I ask, my voice carefully controlled.
"Silver hair with red tinting," he says, his golden eyes distant with memory. "Platinum eyes. Iridescent skin that seemed to shimmer in the light. She was... beautiful. Terrified. And when she realized what had happened—that she was carrying eggs, that months had passed—she fled. Took the eggs and ran before I could stop her."
Silver hair with red tinting. Platinum eyes. Iridescent skin.
That could be either Eira, Bia or Astria.
But which one? And why can't I be certain?
"You've been searching for her ever since," I say.
"Yes." His voice is raw with emotion. "I escaped the pit not long after she did. I've been tracking her, following rumors, trying to find her. But she's hidden herself well. And without a name..." He trails off, helpless.
"We've heard stories," I say carefully. "Legends of a silver-haired woman who appeared two thousand years ago with no memory of who she was."
Arsenal's entire body goes rigid. "You've heard of her?"
"Only rumors," I admit. "But we think she might be in Thronkaville."
His expression crumbles with a mixture of hope and despair. "Thronkaville. Yes. I've suspected as much. But the settlement is... protected. Hidden. They don't trust outsiders, and I haven't been able to reach her."
"But you think they'll trust us?"
"I think they'll trust you," he says, his gaze intense. "You're a dragon. A powerful dragon. You look similar to her. They'll recognize that."
He's right. But first...
"Take us to Concord," I say. "Show us these people you're protecting."
Arsenal's expression shifts—surprise, then gratitude. "You'll help them?"
"I'll see what I can do."
It's not a promise. But it's enough.
We travel through the night, following Arsenal and his children across the dunes. The landscape shifts around us, the sand giving way to rocky outcroppings and sparse vegetation.
Arsenal's children are quiet, disciplined. They move with the kind of precision that speaks to rigorous training, and they watch their father with a devotion that borders on worship.
He's a good father. I can see it in the way he checks on them, the way he adjusts his pace to match theirs, the way he speaks to them with patience and respect.
He loves them.
And they love him.
It makes something in my chest ache.
"How many eggs did she carry?" I ask quietly, falling into step beside Arsenal.
His jaw tightens. "One hundred and twenty-five."
One hundred and twenty-five.
The number is staggering. Impossible.
"How many have hatched?"
"I'm not sure," he says. "But I only have ten with me. The rest... they're scattered. Hidden. I've been trying to find them, but it's slow work."
His expression darkens. " The veil... it broke my mate. Took everything from her. Even her name."
The veil.
The same veil that brought me to Aerox. The same veil that could have corrupted one of my sisters, twisted her, left her with nothing but fear and confusion.
Sadie's doing.
The thought makes my blood boil.
"We'll find her," I say, and I mean it. "We'll bring her home."
Arsenal looks at me, his golden eyes searching mine, and then he nods. "Thank you."
Concord appears on the horizon just before dawn.
At first, I didn't see it. The settlement is hidden—camouflaged by magic and clever construction to blend seamlessly with the desert landscape. But as we draw closer, I begin to make out the details.
Entrances carved into rock formations. Underground passages. Tents and shelters tucked into crevices and shadows.
And people. So many people.
They emerge as we approach—men, women, children, elderly. Humans, elves, dwarves, even a few vampires. All of them thin, ragged, desperate.
But alive.
"This is Concord," Arsenal says quietly. "Home to five thousand souls. Maybe more. They've all escaped from different cities and towns on Aerox. From slavery, from abuse, from death."
Five thousand.
I scan the settlement, taking in the makeshift shelters, the communal cooking fires, the children playing in the sand. It's organized, but barely. These people are surviving, but only just.
"They need help," Arsenal says. "Food. Water. Medicine. Safety."
I can see that. But more than that, I can see the potential.
Five thousand people. Grateful. Loyal. Desperate for a leader who can offer them something better.
Five thousand people who would follow me without question.
It's a pragmatic calculation. Cold, maybe. But it's true.
And more than that... I can see their suffering. Can see the fear in their eyes, the exhaustion, the hopelessness.
They deserve better.
"I can help them," I say.
Arsenal's eyes widened. "How?"
I turn to face him fully, meeting his golden gaze with my own mismatched silver and green. "I have a world. A planet. Restored, thriving, empty. I can take them there. Give them safety. A home."
"You're serious."
"I don't joke about things like this."
He stares at me for a long moment, and then he nods. "Then let's do it."
It takes an hour to gather the community leaders and explain the situation. They're skeptical at first—who wouldn't be?—but when I show them a glimpse of my power, when I let them feel the weight of my magic, their skepticism turns to awe.
And when I tell them about Draconis—about the restored cities, the verdant forests, the safety I can offer—they don't hesitate.
"We'll go," one of the leaders says, a grizzled elf with scars covering half his face. "All of us."
I nod. "Then gather your people. We leave now."
I step into the center of the settlement, the crowd parting around me, and reach for my magic.
Chaos energy floods through me, wild and electric, and I shape it with careful precision. Reality bends. The air shimmers. And then, with a sound like thunder, a portal tears open in the middle of the desert.
It's massive—easily thirty feet tall and just as wide. Through it, I can see Draconis. The restored palace. The gardens. The forests stretch to the horizon.
Home.
The crowd gasps. Some fall to their knees. Others weep.
"Go," I say, my voice carrying across the settlement. "Go, and be free."
They don't need to be told twice.
Families rush forward, clutching their belongings, their children. The elderly are helped through by the young. The sick are carried.
One by one, they step through the portal and into a new life.
Arsenal stands beside me, his children gathered around him, and watches with an expression I can't quite read.
"You're giving them everything," he says quietly.
"I'm giving them a chance," I correct. "What they do with it is up to them."
He nods slowly. "And what do you want in return?"
I glance at him, my lips curving into a faint smile. "Loyalty. Service. A civilization built on mutual benefit."
"You're not a savior."
"No," I agree. "I'm not."
I'm a dragon. A queen. A villain who sees the world for what it is and takes what she needs.
But I'm also someone who can offer these people something real. Something better.
And that's enough.
The last person steps through the portal—a young mother clutching a baby to her chest—and I let the magic fade. The portal shimmers, wavers, and then collapses in on itself with a soft pop.
Silence falls over the empty settlement.
Ghatak steps up beside me, his hand finding mine, and I squeeze back.
"That was well done," he murmurs.
"It was necessary."
"It was both."
I glance at Arsenal. "Will you come with us? To Thronkaville?"
He nods. "I will. And when we find her... when we bring her home... I'll owe you a debt I can never repay."
"I don't want your debt," I say. "I want your loyalty."
His golden eyes meet mine, and he inclines his head. "You have it."
Good.
Together, we turn away from the empty settlement and begin the journey toward Thronkaville.
Toward the silver-haired woman.
Toward answers.
Toward the future.