Shifting back to the Dragon Valleys—
The Queen sat in her mother’s chambers, perched on the edge of a bed that didn’t feel like it belonged to royalty anymore.
The living quarters had been downgraded since the Queen was a child. The room still carried the bones of what it used to be—old carvings, faded banners, a cracked gold inlay that never got repaired—but the comfort was gone. The Valley had taken it back. Piece by piece.
The door opened.
Drakorya walked in.
Her chains floated behind her—low, lazy, not the proud, high, ceremonial arc they used to keep. She didn’t enter like a sovereign.
She entered like someone the dragon colony had chewed up and decided to keep alive out of spite.
“Mother,” the Queen said.
Drakorya ignored her.
She grabbed a bottle of dragon ale, drank straight from it, and dropped into the chair at the table like she owned the room and hated it at the same time.
Drakorya hiccuped.
Then, without looking up, she answered like the word tasted bitter.
“Yes, Queen,” Drakorya said, and downed another bottle.
The Queen’s throat tightened. “What happened to you?”
Drakorya’s eyes sharpened—just for a moment.
“You and Ace,” she said. “You are what happened.”
The Queen flinched.
“Releasing the seven calamity books into the world,” Drakorya continued, voice rough. “After that, I was treated like scum.”
She laughed once—flat, humorless.
“Your father,” she added, “was scorched and thrown into the bottom chambers. Punished for helping you leave the nest.”
Drakorya’s fingers tightened around the bottle.
“He’s been paying for it for many centuries.”
The Queen’s face drained. “Mother… I had no idea. I’m so—so sorry. I had no idea.”
Drakorya’s chain snapped forward.
Fast.
It stopped just short of the Queen’s face—close enough to make the air sting.
Though you are my daughter, the chain said without words.
Drakorya’s voice followed it, steadier than her hands.
“I can’t hold you responsible,” she said. “But you need to take care of that carefree attitude of yours.”
The chain withdrew.
Drakorya drank again.
And the Queen sat there, realizing for the first time that the Valley had been punishing her family the entire time she was gone.
Shifting to the dragon throne room—
Penny paced back and forth, claws clicking against stone.
Her sister walked in and watched her for half a breath.
“What’s got you all worked up?” Kempy asked.
Penny didn’t stop pacing. “I feel it,” she said. “The seven calamity books are awakened. I can feel their presence.”
Her jaw clenched.
“But I don’t know where.”
One of the council dragons entered—male, armored, formal, nervous.
“Um… hello, Queen Penny—”
A red-and-pink bolt struck him mid-sentence.
He hit the floor already dead.
The room didn’t even have time to react.
Another council member came in, slower this time, like he already knew what he was walking into.
“How many times are you going to do that, my Queen?” he asked.
Penny and Kempy both struck at him—
Nothing happened.
Because the council member was inside an iron spiked ball, rolling forward like a fortress.
Penny’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Keflax?”
Keflax’s voice came from behind the iron shell, calm in a way that suggested he’d practiced.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said. “But I feel you should see this.”
Penny’s pacing slowed.
Keflax continued. “The chamber that sealed the seven calamity books… a hole has appeared where they were.”
Kempy’s ears twitched. “A hole?”
“A big tunnel,” Keflax corrected. “I think you two should check it out.”
Penny’s gaze sharpened, hungry now.
Keflax lowered his voice, like he was speaking a heresy.
“There may be a true ruler of the Dragon Valley.”
Penny and Kempy looked at one another and laughed.
Penny dashed forward and grabbed Keflax—yanking him up so he dangled off the floor. Her fingers closed around his throat.
“You haven’t forgotten the rules, have you?” Penny hissed. “Has that slow brain of yours gone soft over these years?”
“N-no,” Keflax gagged out, clawing at her wrist, trying to breathe.
A black chain snapped through the air.
It struck between Penny and Kempy like a whip made of command.
“That’s enough.”
Penny’s head turned.
The chain tightened—forcing Kempy back into the wall, pinning her there by the throat like a warning that didn’t care who it embarrassed.
Kempy’s eyes widened.
Penny dropped Keflax.
He hit the floor coughing, sucking air like it was the first time he’d ever been allowed to have it.
Drakorya walked in.
She didn’t stride.
She slumped in, chains dragging low behind her, and leaned against the wall with a hiccup like the room itself was tilting.
Penny’s eyes narrowed. “Drop my sister, Drakorya,” Penny said.
“No,” Drakorya answered.
Penny’s lip curled.
Drakorya’s voice came out rough, scraped raw by centuries of being ignored.
“You keep my mate locked up,” she said. “You stripped me of my title. And you expect me to just obey you and pretend it’s all okay?”
Drakorya stumbled forward, sat down hard on the floor, hiccuped again—
Then threw up lava onto the stone.
It hissed. It spat heat. It left a glowing smear like the Valley itself was bleeding.
Penny sighed when she saw it.
The chain loosened.
Kempy dropped her shoulders, coughing as the pressure released.
“I’ve been loyal to this nest ever since I was born,” Drakorya muttered, voice wobbling between rage and exhaustion. “Yet I feel like I’ve been given the short straw because of what my children did.”
Black electricity discharged from Drakorya—an ugly crackle that made the air taste like metal.
“When I see my other child,” Drakorya said, voice rising, “I will— I will—”
Her words broke.
Drakorya’s head tipped.
And she fell asleep right there on the floor, mid-threat, mid-curse, mid-mother.
Penny looked past Drakorya.
Behind her, Penny’s daughter—the Queen—stood in the doorway, watching with a nervous stillness.
Penny floated over and touched the Queen’s face, almost gentle.
“You can relax,” Penny said. “Your judgment was given by your mother. I won’t give you another.”
Her fingers slid away.
Penny’s eyes sharpened again. “Tell me what made you want to come back to the nest,” Queen Penny asked.
The Queen swallowed. “Well… my other sister, Vespera, and I got into a fight.”
Penny’s brow lifted.
“It was because of the one boy who holds a calamity book,” the Queen continued. “He had gold bracelets—from what I saw—when he was taken to the Elven Empire.”
“Whhhhaaaat?” Penny roared.
The sound snapped through the chamber.
It woke Drakorya with a jolt.
It made Kempy flinch so hard her claws scraped stone.
Penny’s gaze burned into her daughter.
“Don’t you think,” Penny snarled, “out of all the things you could have said when arriving here, you could have started with that?”
The heat in the room began to rise.
Penny’s breathing intensified until the air felt like boiling water.
She touched the wall.
The stone softened. Melted under her palm.
Then Penny forced a deep breath.
The temperature dropped back to normal like she’d grabbed the room by the throat and told it to behave.
Penny’s voice came out controlled—too controlled.
“Do you know what those gold bands mean?”
No—Queen said, “I don’t. Could you explain to me?” Queen asked, looking very confused.
Penny’s eyes narrowed, then sharpened with something that wasn’t patience.
“Those bracelets,” Penny said, voice low, “are dragon authority ones. Ancient.”
She stepped closer, heat still coiled under her skin like it was waiting for permission.
“They’re from the old deities—the ones who gave up their physical forms to stop Lunara, the evil dragon god, from going on a rampage.”
Penny’s jaw tightened.
“She was sealed away.”
Kempy’s breathing went shallow.
Even Drakorya, half-slumped and sour with ale, went still enough to listen.
Penny continued, each word landing heavier.
“Apparently, she was the only dragon god to produce an heir to the true dragon kingdom… since everyone else was made from the Great Dragon Mother.”
Penny’s gaze locked on Queen.
“If those bands are in this world,” Penny said, “Lunara won’t be far from awaking.”
Chapter ends.
