Erandyl Telaryon and her Dragonborn moved as Lukas and his companions followed them down into the depths, leaving behind the sunlight and the wind of the surface. The descent was long, a winding passage that grew wider and more luminous the further they traveled, until at last the narrow corridors fell away into vast caverns that seemed to breathe with life itself.

And Lukas was introduced to a whole new world beneath the surface.

It was an underground city, ancient and meticulously crafted, stretching out as far as Lukas's eyes could reach. The underground floors of the Church in Easthaven did not even remotely compare to what he now saw. The vaulted ceilings soared so high that even the colossal form of the Dragon Lord of the Earth could walk freely beneath them, her scales glimmering faintly in the mineral light.

Stalactites sparkled like chandeliers, and along the stone walls, entire neighborhoods had been carved—arched doorways, terraces, and balconies built directly into the rock face. Bridges of flawless stone stretched from cliff to cliff, wide enough for dragons to land upon, while in the air above, dragonborn and their kin flew gracefully, wings cutting through the cool air with rhythmic precision.

Lukas watched in awe as a group of wyvern carried supplies between the cliffside dwellings, their talons clutching ropes of ore and bundles of stone. Others gnawed at the cavern walls themselves, teeth grinding through rock as though it were nothing more than hardened clay. Each bite widened the city, preparing space for future homes and halls.

It was a place that breathed purpose, a city ever-growing, built not by chance but by vision and unity.

Erandyl walked beside Lukas with a grace that belied her immense size, her voice low and steady as she spoke through the connection that she had formed between her mind. "I apologize for our hostility earlier on. We were not expecting you and your entourage to arrive so soon." She said with surprising humility.

Lukas nodded, understanding her completely. The Draconic Summit was still two weeks away so it made sense to be wary of an early arrival.

Yet her courtesy extended further than Lukas anticipated. There was kindness in the way she treated him, though he suspected it was partly because of Lady Kaitlyn's sake. To learn that his father's Royal consort had once been Kaitlyn Teralyon, a daughter of this underground city, surprised Lukas more than anything. The Lady Kaitlyn herself had never mentioned it to him and neither had his mother whom Lukas was sure had been aware of his mother's past.

Here, among the dragons she had likely grown alongside, she was most certainly a familiar figure. Yet the gazes they cast upon her and the other women—Kaitlyn, Katrina, and Rosalia alike—were cold and unwelcoming.

It took Lukas little time to realize why.

The humanoid forms his companions wore were seen here as a rejection of true draconic heritage. To the Dragons of the Earth, taking on the shape of a human was distasteful. Why would any dragon take on the shape of a lesser species? Every bowed head and narrowed eye made that unspoken truth plain.

As they crossed one of the massive bridges, the Dragon Lord's eyes lingered on Rosalia. Her voice brushed Lukas's thoughts, direct and sharp: "That girl…she is a human. Is she not?"

Lukas stiffened but did not shy away from the truth. He would not parade Rosalia like a prize nor would he treat her as if being human were a crime. Because it wasn't. Just as being a dragon was not. "Yes. Yes she is. And she is like family to me."

The Dragon Lord of the Earth regarded him silently, the weight of her gaze pressing down like stone.

Then, to his surprise, Erandyl exhaled with a sound like grinding gravel and it took Lukas a moment to realize that the sound was laughter. "You remind me of your great-grandfather, Valerion," she remarked.

Upon hearing that name, Lukas smiled despite himself. He remembered the Dragon Lord well—their battles, his rebellious nature and love for alcohol, the strange friendship that had grown between them during his time within the Crest. Valerion Drakos had been the first to build a bridge between dragons and humankind. And now, Lukas could not help but feel he here to continue what Valerion had begun.

The Dragon Lord of the Earth did not press the matter of Rosalia further, though her eyes lingered a heartbeat too long on the girl.

Through the bond they shared, Lukas caught the edges of Erandyl's memory—fragments that shimmered like reflections in water. He saw a woman, radiant and fierce. It was Aurelia Ilagron herself. Lukas felt the warmth of the Dragon Lord's regard for Velena's ancestor. That fondness softened her judgment, yet it did not erase her caution.

"Keep her close, Lukas," Erandyl's voice echoed in his thoughts, weighty and deliberate. "Guard her identity, lest it become fuel for something neither of us wishes to ignite."

Lukas inclined his head. A warning from one such as her was no mere suggestion and he would listen to her words well.

Their steps carried them across the final stretch of the bridge, until the cavern opened to reveal a wonder Lukas had not prepared himself for.

Before them rose a palace, colossal in scale, carved directly from the heart of the mountain. Its walls were smooth as polished obsidian, streaked with veins of glittering crystal that caught the cavern's inner light and sent it spilling like rivers of fire across the hall. Pillars as wide as towers buttressed the great facade, their surfaces etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly, as though the very magic of the Earth flowed within them. The central gates, fashioned of bronze and stone, loomed higher than any fortress Lukas had ever seen, carved with reliefs of dragons coiled in endless battle and repose. The palace was not simply a residence—it was a monument, a proclamation of House Teralyon's dominion over all that lay beneath the surface.

As they ascended the wide steps, Lukas's eyes swept across the inhabitants who had gathered at the entrance.

Rows of dragonborn awaited, their forms imposing and austere. Yet it was not the sheer number that caught his attention, but their division. It was only the men who had taken on what the Earth thought to be "lesser" humanoid forms; dressed in robes of muted color, their eyes lowered, their movements careful and deferential. They carried trays of offerings, held lanterns to light the way, or bowed in welcome. The women, however, stood tall and resplendent; remaining in their full draconic forms. Authority radiated from them, their gazes sharp, their voices carrying commands to which the men obeyed without hesitation.

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Lukas felt the weight of the revelation sink in—House Teralyon was a matriarchy.

Here, the women were the pillars and the rulers, while the men, however strong their draconic blood, served in roles the surface world would never assign them. It was not cruel subjugation, but it was hierarchy nonetheless, and Lukas could not deny the culture shock he felt now.

They were welcomed into the palace, the vast doors swinging open to reveal a grand hall of towering arches and glowing braziers that burned with ever-bright stoneflame.

One by one, his companions followed the attendants toward the quarters prepared for them.

But Lukas lingered at the threshold, his gaze pulling once more towards Erandyl who stopped to hear what he had to say.

The question had gnawed at him since they entered the city, and though he had intended to wait, he knew he could not wait any longer.

"Why?" His thoughts pressed through the bond, sharp and unyielding. "Why do they treat Lady Kaitlyn with such disdain? They treat her worse than they do an outsider." Yes they showed disdain to those who wore human forms but the way they looked at Lady Kaitlyn? It was much more than just that.

Erandyl halted, her tail curling slightly across the stone floor. Her silence stretched long, heavy as the earth itself.

At last, she turned her gaze upon him, and in it he saw both sorrow and iron. "Because she abandoned her people," the Dragon Lord said simply.

Her voice rumbled low in his mind, resonant, and each word struck Lukas like a falling stone. "She was raised to succeed me. We lost many during the Great War, including mine own children. So their own offspring became my responsibility. It was Kaitlyn who was to be my heir—strongest of all my granddaughters, wisest in magic, beloved by our people. They looked up to her as the one who would one day lead them, the one who would bear House Teralyon into a new age."

Erandyl's claws scraped lightly across the stone, leaving faint grooves in its surface. "And yet she cast it all aside. For Jaren Drakos. For the dragon of House Drakos who took the crown from his father's head and ended the bloodiest years our people have ever known. Kaitlyn left without word, without farewell. She did not return—not once—until now. She eloped, became his Royal consort, and bound herself to the seas. She took the name that you now bear and forgot about the one she once bore. In the eyes of her people, she chose another House over her own. They have never forgiven her and I do not think they ever will."

Lukas's throat tightened.

He thought of the Lady Kaitlyn, walking silently ahead, her gaze always fixed forward, never meeting the eyes of those she passed. He understood now—their scorn was not for her humanity, nor even for her marriage, but for the betrayal of a legacy abandoned.

"Have you forgiven her?" Lukas' question hung like a blade in the stillness. He had expected her to become angry, perhaps even to lash out and tell him that such matters were none of his concern.

Instead, the Dragon Lord of the Earth threw back her head and laughed again—a sound like a landslide tumbling down a mountain. "You ask too many questions, young Drakos," Erandyl rumbled, her golden eyes narrowing with sharp amusement. "Now it is time for me to ask one of my own."

Lukas inclined his head, conceding the exchange. "That's only fair. Ask away."

The humor in her gaze faded, giving way to a gravity that pressed down upon him.

"Why are you here so early, Lukas Drakos? Why have you come when you know the Draconic Summit does not begin for another two weeks? For what purpose?" It was a fair question, and a dangerous one.

Though their dialogue thus far had been marked with civility—even the beginnings of trust—Lukas could feel her vigilance, the suspicion that coiled beneath every word.

Erandyl had endured too much across the centuries to take any claim at face value.

So Lukas did the only thing he could: he laid himself bare.

Lukas opened the bond wide, letting the flood of memory and vision pour forth.

He showed her the Shard of Obedience. He showed her Jesse's vision for it and what it could achieve for their people. He showed her the draconic kind still chained, their cries echoing across generations; wyvern, dragon and dragonborn alike still enslaved in numbers that made his stomach churn. There were hundreds of thousands of them. Still broken, still suffering and…still forgotten.

Erandyl recoiled—just slightly—as the images struck her mind like blows. She was no stranger to cruelty and certainly no stranger to war, but Lukas saw the way her pupils narrowed, her nostrils flaring at the weight of what he shared. Yet she did not break the bond. She held it, steady and unflinching, as though determined to drink every bitter drop of truth he poured into her. And then Erandyl felt it—the part that threw her most off guard.

Not the chains, not the vision of Jesse, but the love that radiated from Lukas's soul. A love unflinching and unashamed. A love for his kin, for all draconic kind, for the broken kingdom of Linemall and even for her and all the dragons who lived within this underground world of the Earth.

Lukas gave her time to take it all in, standing quietly as her breath shifted, steady but deep.

Then he spoke, his voice firm, his heart open.

"My wish is simple," Lukas explained. "I want Linemall to stand as one. I want our people free, unbound, no longer forced into the shadows or chained to the whims of humanity. I want to see a reality where our kind may walk without fear and without shame. But for that to happen, the Great Houses must stand together. This…this cold war must end. I wish for us to travel together to the Draconic Summit."

He looked up at her, unblinking. "So I ask you, Erandyl—will House Teralyon stand with House Drakos? Will we stand together as one for the sake of our people? For the sake of our freedom?"

The cavern seemed to still around them.

The Dragon Lord of the Earth did not answer him. Her eyes bore into him with the weight of a mountain, but no words came. Instead, after a long silence, her mind's voice shifted. "And what of House Ishtar? What of the Dragon Lord of Flames? What of Rysenth Ishtar?"

Lukas did not hesitate. His jaw set, his eyes blazing with the same conviction he had shown his own dragonborn. His answer was the same. "Rysenth will pay for what he has done. And if he chooses to continue standing in my way, then they will pay the ultimate price. No matter who they are."

Erandyl regarded him with a strange expression, something caught between awe and unease.

The Dragon Lord of the Earth was of Valerion's generation, she had been alive when Thalarion still ruled the Seas and she had lived through the Monarch's reign and Linemall's defeat during the Great War.

Erandyl Telaryon had seen their people at their proudest and their most broken.

Yet never, not once in all her years, had she met anyone quite like Lukas Drakos.

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