MasukGILDEON
He watched the next scene unfold. Young Vergilius, now a vampire, stood in the old priest’s depraved chamber. The sick bastard had gathered another group of young women, some already naked on his bed.
The old man paused halfway through removing his robe and turned to the doorway. “Vergilius, is that you?” he exclaimed, narrowing his eyes. “Word reached me that you had escaped, you ingrate! Bold of you to show your face here after you nearly sent me to me
GILDEONHe shifted mid-descent, scales folding away as he took on his dragon-mortal form. By the time he hit the ground near his comrades—who were finishing off the remaining sylphs—he had already returned to his true mortal state.His eyes found Araheen immediately.He moved quickly, barely registering General Markaus nearby as he lifted her from the rubble and laid her on clear ground. His heart hammered as he dropped beside her, scanning for injuries.Nothing critical.Relief settled in, even with her unconscious.His head snapped up, searching for his lieutenants through the chaos.“What happened?” he demanded sharply, his gaze cutting toward Yadira and Eitan. “I told you to get her out of here.”“We tried, Captain,” Eitan said, raking his claws across the throat of a sylph he was engaged with. “But she ran back into the castle.”“I th
NARRATORIn the Crescent Tower…At the distant explosion, Garud snapped upright within her enclosure, and the chains binding her groaned under the sudden strain.She went still.Her amber eyes flared, then bled into a deep, luminous indigo.Something else had taken hold.Suddenly, she slammed her head into the nearest already-fragile column. A second impact followed, her body driving into the wall of the chamber. The sigils carved across its surface flared violently, their light surging as they fought to contain her.Garud shrieked, and she struck again.And again.Each impact sent more fractures racing through the stone. Chunks broke loose, crashing to the floor in a cascade of debris. The sigils flickered erratically, their glow stuttering as lines of power fractured and split. Some shattered entirely—symbols breaking apart and dimming to nothing, their magic extinguished.
NARRATORIn the Grand Castle…Looming over the castle, the Dragon parted its jaws. A torrent of fire surged forth, pouring straight into the open Great Hall. The blaze roared like a living force, swallowing the space in a violent flood of heat and light.The sigils carved into the walls ignited at once, flaring with a steady glow. Their magic held firm, shielding the structure and the sylphs within from the worst of the flames. But the inferno spilled downward, reaching the war command chamber below.The two scholars stationed there exchanged puzzled glances. The heat did not touch them, held at bay by the chamber’s protections, yet something else had stirred. Drawn by it, they stepped closer to the five Vulkar’s Rod relics.Thin cracks spidered across the hardened shells, leaking threads of molten light. The air around the fragments shimmered, as if reality itself were warping under the pressure building within.
ARAHEEN“Open the roof,” her father commanded.At once, the guards moved.Mechanisms groaned to life as hidden latches disengaged. The domed ceiling of the Great Hall split along its seams, metal segments sliding apart in smooth arcs. One by one, the panels folded outward like unfolding petals, until the ceiling gave way to the night.A vast, starless sky opened above them.While the structure shifted, Araheen descended from the stage—quick, but measured, careful not to draw attention.“Father—”But Lothair had already moved, drifting beyond her reach.Her focus snapped instead to Gildeon, who was watching the opening above.“You’re not seriously going to shift here, are you?” she said under her breath.He lowered his gaze to meet hers and gave a slight shrug. “I’m a prisoner,” he said. “I don&rsq
ARAHEENThe realizations came all at once.The tightened security across the citadel. The quiet sense that her father and the High Council had been withholding something. The unease she had glimpsed in the Warden’s eyes when Zephyr’s name was spoken.“Tell me,” she said, her gaze locking onto Theobald, “does the decision to spare surrendering salamanders have anything to do with this?”Theobald took a long drink before answering. His eyes dipped briefly before lifting to meet hers and Feviel’s.“Zephyr’s followers have grown significantly over the years,” he began. “Those who survived the hunts in the past continued to build their strength in secrecy.”He paused, briefly looking into the distance. “They call themselves the Zephyrists. A faction of rebels consisting of Fractured sylphs… and salamanders who have grown tired of dying for their creed.”Araheen and Feviel listened in silence.“If we choose to exterm
ARAHEENShe stared at her reflection in the tall mirror lining the wall of the Great Hall, her expression distant.Her curls were gathered into an elegant bun at the back of her head, pinned in place with her sigil needle, shaped like a delicate ornament among the strands. A few loose curls framed her face, softening her otherwise composed appearance.She wore silver-strapped heels and matching dangling earrings. Her emerald dress clung to her form, a long slit running up one side to reveal her smooth leg, and the fitted holster that secured her phoenix dagger.Since her father had given it to her, she had not parted with it once.In the mirror, she saw Feviel approaching from behind, carrying two glasses of sparkling wine—similar to the kind lower mortals often drank in celebration.He smiled as his gaze moved over her reflection.“You look beautiful, as always.” He handed her one of the glasses. “But you seem troubl
ARAHShe barely recognized Cora’s house. Penis-shaped balloons were scattered everywhere, and strobe lights flashed so intensely they nearly blinded her. The music was so loud it made her ears ring. Good thing Cora lived far enough from the neighbors that no one would care, even if the guests start
ARAHFear coiled around her ribs like a vice.“I-it’s me,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.Gildeon didn’t flinch. His lips remained curled back, exposing sharp teeth. His expression was predatory, enraged. In his eyes, she was someone else—an enemy.What had Drusden done to him?
GILDEONIn a blink, he was back in Drusden’s throne room. He dropped to his knees, palms flat on the cold floor, breath ragged. He hadn’t even realized he’d shifted back to his mortal form. His chest tightened, a storm of emotions threatening to tear free.His mysterious birth mother. His father’s
ARAHTo say this was a massive shock would be an understatement. The idea of a lower mortal becoming a higher mortal was probably the last thing she had ever expected to hear.How could that even be possible? Flying to Shamibar in Zylas’s dragon form was already mind-blowing. But the idea of alteri







