The elven mess hall buzzed with uneasy noise—plates clinking, distant laughter that felt forced, guards pretending not to listen.

  Ace and Vespera sat across from each other at a long table.

  Not with warmth.

  With the stillness of two storms trying to decide which one would strike first.

  Ace leaned back in her chair, hammer resting against her shoulder like it belonged there. Pink sparks crawled lazily along her fingertips—habit, not threat.

  Vespera’s rings floated beside her hand, black flame licking the edges like they were breathing.

  Lenora and Lewd were elsewhere in the castle—out of this room, out of this tension, carrying their own worry like a weight they couldn’t set down.

  Ace couldn’t stop thinking about them.

  Vespera noticed.

  Of course she did.

  “So,” Vespera said, voice smooth and sharp. “You’ve been wandering around with them again.”

  Ace didn’t deny it.

  Vespera’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’ve been acting like you’re not Sinister Seven.”

  Ace’s jaw flexed.

  “I’m tired,” she said.

  Vespera’s rings shifted, offended.

  “Tired?” Vespera repeated. “You think I crossed borders and swallowed my pride because you’re tired?”

  Ace’s pink electricity sparked once—brighter.

  “You didn’t come for me,” Ace said, quietly cruel. “You came because Dragon Kingdom law told you to.”

  Vespera’s black flames flared at her mouth, then she forced them down.

  “…Don’t,” she warned.

  Ace leaned forward slightly.

  “I’m leaving,” Ace said.

  The words hit the table like a dropped blade.

  Vespera went still.

  Even her rings paused.

  “You’re not leaving,” Vespera said.

  Ace smiled like she’d already decided.

  “I am.”

  Vespera’s black flame crawled up her forearm.

  “You want to abandon the Seven,” she hissed, “in the middle of enemy territory, with the World Tree capital watching everything we do?”

  Ace’s sparks brightened.

  “I’m not abandoning anything,” Ace snapped. “I’m choosing.”

  Vespera’s eyes hardened.

  “Choosing what.”

  Ace exhaled.

  Then, quieter—like she hated herself for saying it—

  “Choosing to learn why they follow him.”

  Vespera blinked once.

  “What.”

  Ace’s gaze drifted past Vespera, toward the far windows, toward the distant glow of the capital.

  “Lenora and Lewd…” Ace said. “They look at Derpy like he’s… something worth bleeding for.”

  Vespera’s jaw tightened.

  Ace continued anyway.

  “They’re not dragons. They’re not bound by our laws. They don’t claim people. They don’t chain them. They don’t treat loyalty like ownership.”

  Ace’s voice sharpened.

  “And they still choose to stand beside him.”

  Vespera scoffed, cold.

  “You think that’s noble?”

  Ace’s electricity flickered—uncertain.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Ace admitted. “That’s the point.”

  She looked at Vespera directly.

  “I want to see what they see.”

  Vespera’s rings tightened their orbit, like they wanted to cut the air.

  “And what,” Vespera said slowly, “do you think you’ll find.”

  Ace’s smile vanished.

  “A reason,” she said.

  Her voice dropped.

  “A reason I’m still here.”

  Silence pulled tight between them.

  Then Vespera leaned back slightly.

  And her tone changed.

  Not softer.

  Just… older.

  “You’re not the only one who got dragged into his gravity,” Vespera said.

  Ace’s eyes narrowed.

  “You made a contract with him,” Ace said. “Why.”

  Vespera didn’t answer right away.

  Her gaze drifted off the table.

  Off the room.

  Into a memory she hadn’t meant to share.

  “…Because of the forest,” Vespera said.

  Ace frowned. “Forest.”

  Vespera’s rings slowed.

  And she began.

  “They didn’t make it far,” Vespera said quietly.

  Ace’s eyes stayed locked on her.

  “Derpy. Lenora. The pets.”

  Vespera’s voice went distant.

  “The forest went quiet first—birds cutting off mid-song, wind dying like someone shut a door.”

  A pause.

  “Derpy’s bracelets warmed,” she continued. “Not gentle warmth. A sharp heat.”

  Ace’s brow twitched.

  Vespera’s eyes narrowed as if she could still see it.

  “Lenora told him ‘Down’—and he listened.”

  Vespera’s mouth tightened.

  “That alone… was wrong. Humans don’t listen like that unless they’re afraid or trained.”

  She exhaled through her nose.

  “Then the sky screamed.”

  Her rings trembled faintly.

  “Something crashed into the clearing behind them.”

  Ace leaned forward without realizing.

  Vespera continued, voice sharpening.

  “Mia transformed first.”

  Her words painted it like a scar.

  “Three heads. Heat. Frost. Crushing bite. A contract-made beast.”

  Ace’s eyes narrowed. “And Sphinx.”

  Vespera nodded.

  “He became a monster too. Lantern eyes. Silent intent.”

  She swallowed, then spat the word like it tasted bitter.

  “Contracts,” Vespera said. “Of course.”

  Her gaze hardened.

  “Lenora tried to talk. She always does.”

  Vespera’s lips curled.

  “I didn’t.”

  Ace watched her carefully now.

  Vespera continued.

  “I went for Derpy.”

  She didn’t dress it up.

  “I grabbed him and pinned him against my chest. He froze.”

  Ace’s eyes widened slightly.

  Vespera’s jaw tightened, annoyed at her own memory.

  “And he didn’t fight,” Vespera said. “He didn’t threaten. He didn’t even curse.”

  Her rings slowed.

  “He just looked… startled.”

  A beat.

  Then Vespera’s expression sharpened.

  “And then the bracelets burned me.”

  Ace went still.

  Vespera held up her palm like she could still feel it.

  “Not a warning,” she said. “A rejection.”

  Her voice lowered.

  “Like dragon authority deciding I didn’t have the right to claim him.”

  Ace’s electricity dimmed unconsciously.

  Vespera’s eyes narrowed.

  “And after that,” Vespera said, “I watched.”

  She looked at Ace.

  “I watched Lenora stand between me and him even when she had no reason to.”

  Ace’s jaw tightened.

  “I watched the pets protect him like he mattered.”

  A pause.

  “And I watched him—confused, afraid, carrying power he didn’t want—still choosing not to become cruel.”

  Vespera leaned back.

  “That is why I followed.”

  Ace stared at her, silent.

  Vespera’s rings tightened slightly.

  “He carries dragon authority,” she said. “But he acts like a person. Not a king. Not a beast. Not a weapon.”

  Her eyes sharpened into something dangerous again.

  “And if someone like that is holding a Calamity…”

  Vespera’s voice dropped.

  “…then I need to know what the Calamity wants from him before the world decides for him.”

  Ace stared at the table.

  Then muttered, almost bitter:

  “So you’re curious.”

  Vespera’s eyes flicked up.

  “No,” she corrected. “I’m careful.”

  Ace huffed a laugh, but it didn’t sound amused.

  Then Vespera added—casually, like she didn’t understand the size of the grenade she was holding:

  “And Queen (codename) went to the Valley of Dragons.”

  Ace froze.

  Her electricity died.

  “…She did what,” Ace said.

  Vespera’s rings hovered calmly, as if she hadn’t just cracked the world.

  “She went,” Vespera repeated. “To speak to them. To visit them—she misses everyone.”

  Her mouth tightened.

  “To negotiate. To repair what you two broke.”

  Ace’s face tightened.

  Shock first.

  Then anger.

  Then something that looked like grief she refused to admit.

  “She went without me,” Ace whispered.

  Vespera watched her.

  “Your queen sent you on a rescue mission for Derpy,” Vespera said. “You don’t get to be surprised when the world moves without you.”

  Ace’s pink lightning snapped alive again, sharp and painful.

  “Don’t,” Ace warned.

  Vespera’s black flames rose in answer.

  “Then stop acting like you’re the only one bleeding,” Vespera hissed.

  The air between them tightened.

  A spark.

  A flame.

  Two sisters—claws out, hearts exposed.

  And neither of them noticed at first…

  that they weren’t alone anymore.

  At the entrance of the mess hall—

  Hina had appeared.

  Not with a jester roll this time.

  Not with giggling noise.

  She simply stood there.

  Watching.

  The lantern flames seemed to dip when she breathed.

  Her 4'9 frame looked small in the doorway, but the feeling she carried made the room colder.

  Her uneven horns caught the light—one thick with a faint pink sheen, the other tinted jade green.

  Her hair—dark at the core, green near the roots, pink at the ends—shifted when she moved like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.

  Her black jester dress flashed pink and green stripes when she inhaled.

  And her grin—

  not wide.

  not playful.

  Just… waiting.

  Like a knife deciding where to cut.

  Vespera’s eyes flicked to her.

  A tiny frown.

  Ace didn’t notice right away.

  She was too busy staring at Vespera like the next sentence might shatter her.

  Hina watched.

  And in her head, memories spilled like poison.

  Ace’s hand on her shoulder—tight, controlling.

  Ace training her until her legs shook.

  Ace saying: “Again. Again. Again.”

  Ace snapping: “If you lose control, I’ll put you back in that cell myself.”

  And Queen (codename)—Ace’s younger dragon sister—standing beside Ace, colder, quieter, scarier.

  “Behave,” Queen would say.

  Not angry.

  Worse.

  Disappointed.

  Hina remembered dragon milk.

  Remembered being called “princess” like it was a leash.

  Remembered being treated like a thing that needed to be managed.

  And now—

  now Ace was looking at Vespera with something dangerously close to respect.

  With care.

  With pain.

  With softness.

  Hina’s grin twitched.

  Almost broke.

  Then rebuilt itself into something worse.

  She walked over.

  Sat down beside Ace.

  And said nothing.

  Just stared.

  Crazed.

  Bright-eyed.

  Smiling too still.

  Vespera’s skin prickled.

  “…Princess Hina,” Vespera said cautiously. “What is wrong with you.”

  Hina’s head tilted.

  She didn’t answer.

  She just kept staring at Ace.

  Ace finally noticed her.

  Her posture stiffened.

  “Hina,” Ace said, careful. “Why are you here.”

  Hina’s eyes widened slightly.

  Then she smiled.

  Slow.

  Demented.

  And spoke, sweet as poison.

  “Why are you treating your sister differently than you treated me.”

  The air went cold.

  Ace’s electricity snapped once—nervous.

  Vespera’s black flame curled up her fingers.

  Hina leaned closer.

  “When you trained me,” she said softly, “you called me unstable.”

  Her smile widened.

  “When I cried,” Hina continued, “you said I was weak.”

  She leaned her chin into her palm, eyes never leaving Ace.

  “But when she yells…” Hina whispered, eyes shining, “…you listen.”

  Ace’s jaw tightened.

  “Hina—”

  Hina cut her off instantly.

  “Did you ever sit with me like this,” she asked, voice sweet, “and talk about your feelings.”

  Ace’s electricity stuttered.

  Hina’s grin sharpened.

  “No,” she answered for herself.

  “You trained me. You threatened me. You taught me to obey.”

  Her cow tail flicked once.

  “And now you’re sitting here like a normal sister.”

  Her voice dropped into something raw.

  “Why does she get your heart…”

  A beat.

  “…when I only got your leash.”

  Vespera’s eyes narrowed.

  Ace’s voice came out tight.

  “Hina, you were dangerous.”

  Hina giggled.

  A high sound that didn’t belong in a mess hall.

  “I still am,” she said brightly.

  Then her smile vanished for half a second—just a crack.

  “And you still left.”

  The room felt like it stopped breathing.

  Behind Hina, Sir Reginal had arrived.

  His face was tight with warning.

  He lifted both hands—jester-like, mocking the motion on purpose as if telling Ace: this is a performance now, choose your words.

  “Lady Ace,” Sir Reginal said quietly, tone polite but sharp, “I advise you choose your wording very carefully.”

  Hina’s eyes flicked to him.

  Disgust.

  Then back to Ace.

  Waiting.

  Like a match held over oil.

  Ace swallowed.

  Her electricity dimmed.

  Not because she was weak.

  Because she knew one wrong word could turn Hina into a disaster.

  And Vespera—

  Vespera watched Ace carefully now too.

  Because suddenly, Vespera understood something new:

  Ace didn’t just want to leave the Sinister Seven.

  Ace was trying to escape the monster she helped raise.

  And Hina—

  Hina wasn’t asking.

  She was accusing.

  And she wasn’t done