A Few Days Later

  Isaac leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the bed. Freya lay there, her breathing finally steady and deep. Yu sat beside her, wiping a faint, glowing residue from Freya’s wounds with her thumb.

  “I think that does it,” Yu said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her purple eyes glowed faintly in the dim room. “My saliva speeds up regeneration. It doesn’t just close the wound—it strengthens the tissue underneath. Give her one more day, and she’ll be as good as new.”

  “Good…” Isaac let out a heavy sigh. The exhaustion of the last few days finally settled on his shoulders like a soaked coat.

  “And you?” Yu asked, her voice dropping lower. She turned to him, her vertical pupils narrowing into slits. “You need rest, Isaac.”

  “Maybe later,” Isaac muttered.

  He turned and walked toward the kitchen, his boots scuffing softly against the floorboards. Yu watched him go… then followed without a word.

  In the kitchen, the lights were off, lit only by moonlight spilling through the window. Isaac grabbed a bottle from the counter, poured himself a glass of amber liquor, and downed it in one gulp. It burned his throat, but it didn’t touch the tiredness.

  “Wait…” Yu’s voice came from right behind him. “Maybe I can help you too.”

  Isaac didn’t turn. He poured another glass, the liquid splashing softly. “And how would you do that?”

  Arms slid around his waist. Yu pressed her body to his back. She was hot—too hot—radiating heat through his clothes like a living furnace.

  “I’m a dragon, Isaac…” she whispered by his ear.

  Before he could react, she spun him around and pushed. Isaac stumbled back, sliding down until he was sitting against the kitchen cabinets. Yu didn’t hesitate. She straddled his lap, pinning him there with startling strength.

  She leaned in, her nose brushing his neck as she inhaled slowly. She smelled like sulfur and sweet flowers. Isaac grabbed her waist on instinct, half to stop her, half to steady her, but her presence hit him like pressure.

  “No, Yu… stop,” Isaac said, though his voice didn’t carry much force.

  “I’m here to help you,” she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. “Stay still… and let me take care of you.”

  She pulled back just enough to look at him. The purple in her eyes swirled faintly, like ink in water.

  “I’m yours,” Yu said, fierce and possessive. “Only yours. So why won’t you let me take care of my King?”

  “It’s all happening too fast, Yu… I need—”

  “Shhh.”

  She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. Her skin felt a little rougher than it should have. Then she replaced her finger with her mouth.

  It wasn’t a deep kiss—just a soft press of lips—but the effect was instant. A clean jolt ran through Isaac’s veins. Dragon Nectar. Her saliva didn’t just heal; it felt like pure vitality, warm and sharp all at once.

  Yu pulled back, licking her lips, then moved to his neck. She licked a spot on the right side—slow, deliberate—her tongue rough like a cat’s. Then she paused and sniffed, louder this time. Her eyes narrowed.

  “She marked you,” Yu said, the words edged with a low growl.

  “Marked me?” Isaac blinked, confused, feeling strength seep back into his arms and chest.

  “Nothing,” Yu snapped, then forced a smile that didn’t quite land. “Forget it.”

  She didn’t explain. She simply claimed the spot. Her mouth sealed over the skin of his neck—kissing, sucking harder than before—overriding the scent with her own. Heat spread through Isaac’s body, and the fatigue began to loosen, like it was finally being peeled off him.

  Yu pulled back with a mischievous smile, nipped his chin, and kissed him again. This time it wasn’t gentle.

  They kissed deeper. Isaac groaned, his hands sliding up to cup her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. Yu made a low, needy sound in her throat.

  Something inside her stirred.

  Her canines lengthened into fangs. Her skin grew hotter—rougher. Fine purple scales crept along her cheekbones. Her pupils widened until the purple nearly vanished, her eyes turning dark and hungry.

  “Isaac…” she breathed, his name breaking like a plea against his lips.

  She trailed her kisses down, pushing his shirt aside, mouth warm against his chest. Yu’s pleasure was obvious—affection tangled with something predatory she didn’t fully control. Her eyes squeezed shut as she lost herself in it.

  Her nails lengthened.

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  Obsidian-black claws.

  “Ngh—”

  Isaac tensed as her grip tightened. The claws dug into his shoulders, piercing fabric, biting skin. It wasn’t malicious. It was instinct—dragon strength slipping free.

  “Yu!” Isaac shouted, wincing.

  Yu’s eyes snapped open. She saw the blood staining his shirt. She saw his face. The scales faded instantly, her eyes returning to their normal purple. She scrambled back, covering her mouth with both hands.

  “Isaac— I’m sorry!” Her hands trembled as she stared at them. “Forgive me… I lost control. Are you okay?”

  Isaac glanced down. The cuts were already closing. Thin wisps of steam rose as the skin knit itself together, fueled by the same energy she’d poured into him.

  He looked back up and smiled—a real, tired smile.

  “I’m fine,” he said softly, rolling his shoulder once to prove it. “Thanks for the boost, Yu.”

  He reached out and pulled her closer again, gentler this time. Yu hesitated, then leaned in, resting her forehead against his. They breathed together in the quiet kitchen, rain tapping the window, the air faintly charged with her heat.

  “You idiot,” Yu whispered, her voice thick.

  Then she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, careful now—keeping her hands flat, holding him like she was afraid to break him.

  And in the silence of the night, they just stayed like that.

  A Little Later

  The lake was quiet. Yu floated on her back, hair tied up, eyes half-closed, smiling like she’d stolen a rare moment of peace.

  On the porch, Isaac read an old book with the patience of someone trying not to think.

  Then the air shifted.

  Not a sound. Not wind.

  A pressure.

  Isaac’s eyes lifted from the page. He stood.

  Yu opened one eye. “Mm.”

  The portal flared.

  Mary came through first—fast, almost tripping—laughing and crying at the same time.

  “ISAAC!”

  He didn’t even answer. He was already moving.

  Elara stepped out behind Mary and stopped like she’d hit an invisible wall.

  For a second she just stared at him—too still, too pale, like her body hadn’t caught up.

  Then she broke.

  Elara ran into him and grabbed his shirt with both hands. Her whole body shook. She pressed her face into his chest and sobbed like she’d been holding it in for days.

  Isaac wrapped her up and held her tight.

  Elara tried to speak. Nothing came out.

  Her fingers dug into him harder.

  “The cave…” she whispered, voice shredded. “I—”

  She swallowed the rest. She couldn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

  Isaac lowered his head and rested his cheek against her hair.

  “I know,” he murmured. “I know.”

  Behind her, Ina stood in the doorway of the portal, frozen. Tears ran down her face anyway.

  Her system clicked on with a soft whirr, trying to wipe them away. It kept failing.

  Ina wiped her own face with the heel of her hand, annoyed at herself for crying, then stepped forward and hugged him too—careful, like she didn’t trust reality.

  Isaac’s arms widened for her without letting go of Elara.

  Ina pulled back first, eyes scanning him like she was checking for cracks.

  “You…” Ina’s voice trembled. “You’re really here.”

  Isaac gave a tired little smile.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m here.”

  Mary sniffed hard and laughed again, wiping her face with her sleeve. “He’s real. I told you.”

  Yu finally pushed herself up in the water, watching them from the shore. Calm. Protective. Her gaze lingered on Elara’s hands—raw knuckles, dirt still trapped under the nails.

  Ina took a breath, forcing herself to speak like she wasn’t falling apart.

  “I was going to see my mother,” she said, voice small. “I still am.”

  She hesitated, then added, quieter:

  “But I needed to see you with my own eyes.”

  Isaac nodded once.

  He didn’t explain. He didn’t give lore. Not now.

  He just lifted his chin toward the cabin.

  “Come inside,” he said. “All of you.”

  Elara didn’t let go.

  Not yet.

  Paradise — The Royal Throne

  The throne hall of Paradise was silent, vast, and cold in a way no mortal world could copy. Light poured down from nowhere, bathing everything in gold, yet the air felt heavier than stone.

  At the center sat Luminem.

  To the right stood Arian, calm and still, her presence sharp like a blade kept in its sheath. To the left was Orion, eyes bright with contained anger. Around them, rows of patron gods watched from their seats—some curious, some amused, some already hungry for blood.

  The doors opened.

  Lyra walked in like she belonged there.

  She stopped before the court and bowed only enough to be polite, not enough to be humble.

  “Lyra,” Luminem said, voice smooth and absolute. “Former patron of Olympia. I know what happened.”

  Lyra lifted her chin. “The human king is out of control. Paradise is threatened.”

  Murmurs rolled through the hall. Lyra let them rise. Then she spoke louder, cutting through them like a whip.

  “The Fallen King. The human.” Her eyes swept the room, making sure every god was listening. “He has allied himself with the Abyss. And he carries an aggressive blade—one that can kill a god.”

  The reaction was immediate. Shock. Fear. Excitement.

  Orion’s jaw tightened at the mention of a god’s death, memory flashing behind her eyes.

  Lyra continued, cold and precise. “His sins are extensive. Disrespect toward Paradise and toward the Triad. The death of Galadion.” She paused, letting that name land like a weight. “An attack on me—on a patron.”

  The hall erupted. Voices rose. Hands slammed against armrests. Some of the gods began clapping, not in honor, but in hunger.

  “Death!” someone shouted.

  “Condemn him!”

  Lyra spread her hands slightly, as if she was only presenting facts. “I ask the Mother and the Triad of Paradise to punish the king.”

  Luminem’s eyes didn’t change.

  “SILENCE.”

  The word wasn’t loud, but it crushed the room. Every voice died. Even the air seemed to freeze.

  Luminem stood. The light around the throne sharpened, turning almost blinding.

  “It is decided,” Luminem said. “King Isaac of Olympia… is condemned.”

  Luminem raised a hand.

  Orion raised hers as well, eager, almost smiling.

  All eyes turned to Arian.

  She didn’t lift her hand.

  Arian closed her eyes instead, her arm hanging at her side like she refused to touch the verdict.

  The pause was short, but it stabbed the room.

  Luminem’s gaze slid toward her—one long look, controlled, but not pleased. Orion’s expression tightened, irritation flickering like a spark.

  Arian stayed silent.

  Luminem faced forward again.

  “So be it.”

  Luminem turned his palm.

  The floor of Paradise split with a soft, sick sound—not stone breaking, but reality parting. Two golden figures rose from the opening, slow and obedient. Tall. Powerful. Faceless.

  They looked like armor shaped into people, but there was no warmth in them. No mercy. Only purpose.

  They dropped to one knee before the throne.

  The Reapers of Paradise.

  Luminem’s voice cut through the hall. “Bring me the king.”

  The Reapers didn’t move. They didn’t need to be told twice.

  “And anyone who interferes,” Luminem added, calm as a law of nature, “eliminate.”

  The Reapers vanished instantly—no flash, no sound. One moment they were kneeling. The next they were gone.

  Lyra’s lips curved.

  A small smile.

  Then she turned from the court, already tasting the punishment she’d asked for.