John and Kael were standing atop the tower and three dragons were flying in front of them.

  Without hesitation, Kael leapt onto his sister Kira’s shimmering draconic back, settling with practiced ease. John remained standing for a moment, unsure, until a gentle yet invisible force lifted him from the ground and delicately placed him upon Draco’s massive back. The weight of the ancient dragon beneath him was both humbling and strangely reassuring.

  In an instant, they were soaring at speeds John had never before imagined possible. Yet, despite the rapid flight, the massive dragons moved cautiously, slowly for their taste, pacing themselves to match Kira’s smaller form’s speed limit. The air around them was eerily still; the dragon-witch wove a protective aura, controlling the wind to shield Kael and John from the fierce gusts that might have scarred their skin or blown them away.

  Below, the buildings of Celestor blurred into a rapid procession, rushing past like shadows, while overhead, the air remained unnaturally calm, as if time itself bent to the dragon-witch’s will—no wind lashed their faces, no turbulence disturbed their flight. It was an unnatural and wondrous sensation, one that filled John with awe and a fierce hope for what lay ahead.

  John turned to Kael as they soared above the city, curiosity piercing through the momentary calm. “I thought dragons did not participate in the Inter-Race Tournament.”

  Kael’s gaze darkened, a bitter smile curling his lips. “Had I known what would happen, I would never have participated. But I wanted to help.”

  Before John could respond, the dragon-witch’s voice cut in, calm and sharp. “We had been investigating the movements of the black dragons in Celestor, and young Kael thought it would be wise to observe from within the ranks of the participants. It was foolish. Dragons aren’t allowed to enter the tournament, although if they maintain their humanoid form and are very young, it is sometimes tolerated. It is unfair, though—a dragon would always win against elves, werebeings, or other races.”

  A low, amused rumble came from Draco. “I had never seen a dragon lose to a human until now.”

  Kael cast his eyes downward, silence falling — until Kira’s voice rose softly but firmly. “But he would have won if he hadn’t been disqualified for transforming into a dragon.”

  The dragon-witch interjected once more, her tone tinged with both amusement and respect. “Nonsense. Being forced to reveal our true form by a human is humbling. But John is no ordinary human, and Kael is still young.”

  The candid discussion mingled with the rush of wind and the flight of ancient power, reminding John of the strange, entangled fates and the extraordinary beings who now traveled beside him.

  After some silent flight time, John turned toward Kael again, gratitude in his voice. “I used your vial. Thank you.”

  Kael looked at him, surprise flashing in his burning red eyes. “I had almost forgotten I gave it to you. Did it show you something interesting?”

  John’s gaze grew distant as he reflected on the visions. “Memories of my past. Do you know anything about black lizardmen?”

  Kael’s expression hardened. “They are the pawns of the black dragons.”

  The words hung heavy between them, a stark reminder of the dangers shadowing their journey and the lurking darkness they still had to face.

  Their journey pressed onward, the grand dragons carving through the sky as a living force above the landscapes below. All at once, sprawling forests unfurled beneath them, ancient green canopies shifting like waves in the wind, with winding rivers glinting silver between the trees. They raced past sprawling grasslands and crossed deserts, the air shimmering with heat above golden dunes and dry ravines. Sometimes, clouds drifted beneath their wings, softening the world in mist as they passed over rugged cliffs and valleys painted with the wild colors of sunset.

  Ahead, the horizon changed dramatically. In the far distance, the Ashenhaunt Peaks rose like blades stabbing toward the heavens—mountains impossibly high and needle-sharp, their snowy summits gleaming under the afternoon sun. As the dragons maneuvered around the mountains, John stared down at sheer faces and jagged ridges; some peaks soared above them, making flight seem the only way through such a daunting realm.

  Finally, their path led them to a massive, round crater carved into the heart of the mountain chain—a giant crevasse several kilometers in diameter, encircled by the landscape in a ring of ancient stone. Far below, etched into the cliffs and sheltered from the wind, stretched a city unlike any John had ever seen: a sprawling beehive of stone chambers and caverns, with countless tunnels and halls cut into the rock. Shadows swept through the air as dragons of all shapes and sizes circled in flight or dove into colossal cave mouths below the rim, their vibrant scales flashing in the sun—a living world hidden within the bones of the mountains.

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  Their descent into the gargantuan crevasse was breathtaking. The dragons circled gracefully, spiraling downward as sheer cliff walls and cavernous ledges rose around them. Huge balcony-platforms jutted from the stone, some carved with ornate arches, others rough and utilitarian, but all suspended in the dizzying expanse—in front of openings that led deep into the mountain’s heart.

  As John looked closer, he realized those platforms were not only arenas for dragons. There, in the shadows just beyond the reach of soaring wings, he could make out the shapes of dwarves—small figures compared to their draconic neighbors, more or less the same height as himself, though diminished by distance and the overwhelming scale of the dragons nearby. The dwarves bustled about, tending to glowing forges, hauling great stone tools, or chatting in tight clusters. Their presence gave the massive place a sense of community and ancient tradition, hidden in plain sight within the beehive city carved beneath the Ashenhaunt Peaks.

  John watched in wonder, sensing that this was a place unlike any he had imagined. From his readings, dwarves and dragons were not reputed to be best friends—stories often spoke of rivalry and suspicion between the two although dragons were vastly superior to dwarves. Yet here, high in the Ashenhaunt Peaks, they seemed to coexist in a remarkable harmony, each community moving around the other with practiced ease and respect.

  Also, dwarves were known to live underground, below mountains, but these dwarves were something in between, not really surface dwellers but so much light reached the new city through the crevasse that it could not be called underground. The city, carved along the towering walls and vast ledges of the crevasse, basked in an abundance of sunlight streaming through the wide opening, painting the stone structures in gold and pale blue. The light suffused the beehive city, giving it a feel both subterranean and open—an unusual balance that made it clear this was a place apart, shaped by the meeting of remarkable peoples.

  The dragons glided down in wide, sweeping arcs and landed atop a grand platform that seemed to crown the city. This balcony dwarfed the others in both size and splendor—its surface fashioned from gleaming white marble, veined with gold that snaked across the stone in intricate patterns. Tall marble columns stood in pairs along the edge, polished until they caught the sunlight and flung it in dazzling patterns across the ground. Ornate steps led down to the city below, flanked by golden railings shaped like the curling tails of dragons.

  John and Kael dismounted, feeling the cold luxury of the marble beneath their feet. Behind them, the three great dragons shimmered and began to shrink, their scales and wings melting away in a storm of shifting light. In moments, they stood tall and poised in their humanoid forms, the echoes of their draconic might still apparent in their bearing and the faint glow of power in their eyes. Their arrival upon this elaborate dais was a silent signal—this platform was a place of importance, a meeting ground for the mighty.

  The dragon-witch turned to John, Kael and the others, her expression even more inscrutable than usual. “Wait here for a moment.” With that, she strode gracefully toward an enormous door set into the marble and gold, its surface emblazoned with ancient runes and reliefs of dragons in flight. The door swung open with barely a sound, and she disappeared within.

  While they waited, the platform’s air shifted, and a shadow fell across the marble. From above, a grey dragon as massive as Draco in his full draconic glory descended with a low, earth-rumbling thud. The newcomer’s scales were mottled like storm clouds, his eyes razor-bright and gleaming with a cunning hunger. He regarded the group with a predatory interest, fixating on John in particular.

  “Draco,” the grey dragon rumbled, voice thick with amusement and threat, “did you bring me a snack?” His gaze lingered on John, sharp and calculating, as if appraising the quality of a rare morsel.

  Draco shifted visibly, his form erupting into massive draconic scale and muscle as he placed himself decisively between John and the imposing grey dragon. With a thunderous roar that shook the marble beneath their feet, Draco declared, “Over my dead body.”

  The grey dragon drew back in surprise, sizing up Draco with a new-found wariness. “I would understand if you wanted to eat him,” he said with a tilt of his head, “but why would you protect a snack with your life?” His voice rumbled with confusion before, with a powerful beat of his wings, he swept away from the platform and vanished into the caverns.

  John stood frozen, fear and disbelief swirling in his mind. Was he truly seen as food by dragons?

  Draco returned to his humanoid shape, catching John’s puzzled expression. “Dragons are carnivorous,” he explained gently, “Some choose not to eat sentient beings, but others do not care that much about the feelings of their prey. Their ideals may lean closer to those of black dragons, but even a dragon like the grey one you just met wants to preserve life as a whole. The black dragons, though, make pacts with forces that corrupt and devour, risking everything until the world is left devoid of life.”

  The lessons stung with uncomfortable clarity, illuminating the stark differences in dragon-kind and the choices that shaped their destinies.

  As John absorbed Draco’s explanation, an unshakable truth settled in his mind. Here, in this city carved into colossal stone and guarded by ancient dragons, he would always be in danger. The collar around his neck not only sealed his powers but also marked him as vulnerable. Even without that crippling handicap, he was no match for the raw, overwhelming might of a dragon. The realization was sobering—powerful beings surrounded him, some of them seeing him as walking food, and caution would be his constant companion in this strange, majestic, and perilous place.