I hadn’t slept. Even after I hid Zepharyx’s horn beneath my cloak and returned to bed, my mind kept spinning.
Therethil... is not my enemy.
That sentence gnawed at my reason. What did it mean? Why would a legendary dragon deliver that message with his dying breath?
"Summons from the Council of Magic, immediately," Lieutenant Ryel’s voice came from outside. Weariness still clung to his tone.
In the main chamber, six senior mages and two military officers sat around a long stone table. At its center hovered a sphere of light replaying yesterday’s assault.
Captain Elsin stood tall, like a hero out of a painting.
"Target eliminated. The Aether Lance proved effective."
One of the mages, old and silver-bearded, nodded. “Therethil is in your debt.”
I raised my hand. “May I ask... was there truly no formal communication with the dragons before this conflict escalated?”
Several faces glanced at each other. Elsin looked annoyed. But a female mage at the far end of the table exhaled deeply.
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“Six weeks ago,” she said quietly, “three Elven envoys from the Council of Environments were sent west. They met with four ancient dragons—one of them was Zepharyx.”
The room froze.
“Their mission,” she continued, “was to ask the dragons to limit their hunting. The continent’s fauna was dwindling. We feared imbalance might bring ecological collapse.”
But the envoys didn’t stop there.
They offered help. They said—and this was recorded in the initial report—that the Elves could assist in solving the crisis by ‘easing ecological pressure through predator population control.’ They subtly proposed... reducing the number of dragons.
Silence blanketed the room. Ryel stared at me, eyes wide.
“They wanted... to kill some of the dragons?” he asked in disbelief.
“Not in those words,” the female mage replied. “But that’s how the dragons interpreted it. They saw it as a threat. An insult to their right to exist.”
“An arrogance that cannot be tolerated,” sighed another mage.
“Three dragons were enraged. Only Zepharyx tried to calm them.”
“I didn’t know this,” Ryel murmured.
“Of course not,” Elsin cut in coldly. “Because the meeting failed. Completely.”
“Failed?” I asked.
“They insulted the dragons,” the female mage answered. “Proposing to ancient beings who’ve lived millennia before us, that they submit to Elven morality.”
“They... attacked?”
“Not all. But three of the four were furious. Only Zepharyx sought peace.”
I stared at the stone table. “And the Elven envoys?”
“One survived. He fled. Still on his way back to Therethil. We lost contact two days ago.”
My head throbbed. “So Zepharyx came to warn us.”
Elsin glared. “Or he posed as a messenger, trying to cripple our defenses first.”
“He came alone,” I insisted. “No signs of offensive magic near any settlement.”
“You forget who we’re dealing with. Dragons don’t think like us.”
But I knew. I had seen his eyes. And now it all made sense.
Zepharyx knew the dragons were coming. He tried to reach us first.
As night fell, I stood atop the outer wall of the watch post. The wind carried the scent of rain from the far west. In the twilight sky, three black specks approached the horizon.
Three dragons.
And this time, they weren’t coming to talk.