The day after settling into their quarters within the Ancestral Lands brought a quiet rhythm that Lukas was only beginning to grow accustomed to. The Great Houses, even House Telaryon and House Drakos who were still on good terms, had kept to their own circles. F

actions clustered together—the Seas, the Earth and the Flames—each content within the walls of their designated spaces. The lodgings themselves were generous in size, though sparse in design, every chamber more functional than ornate. Lukas did not mind. There was a bed big enough for his full draconic form, a window, and most importantly, a table.

To him, that was all Lukas required.

Because he had put something off for far too long.

Ever since leaving the regions of the Earth, there had been no chance, no moment of stillness, to address what lingered in his heart. Now, at last, seated at the simple wooden table in his quarters, Lukas took up his pen and began to write another letter to Styx. He still dreamed of her on the nights he was able to sleep, vivid and unrelenting, and he found himself missing her more with each passing day. In the stillness of the Ancestral Lands, his longing sharpened into something tangible, almost painful.

Lukas wanted to be back by her side—gazing into her eyes as firelight danced between them, sharing laughter while washing dishes in the kitchen, feeling her arms wound securely around his neck. He wanted to return to Kairos Castle where she waited for him patiently. These were not just memories, but anchors, pulling him toward the life he wanted to return to.

The letter unfolded as both confession and conversation.

In this letter, Lukas told Styx of the Ancestral Lands, of their austere grandeur and the uneasy separations between the Houses. He wrote of the oath he had sworn in her name to enter these lands where the Draconic Summit was held, and wondered aloud on the page whether she had heard his vow. He did not shy away from honesty either; he shared his turmoil about Rysenth and what he had seen when their minds had connected.

In writing to Styx, Lukas found the clarity he could not voice aloud to anyone else.

Just as he neared the end of this letter, pen poised above the final lines, a knock came at his door.

In these halls, the only ones permitted were those who had traveled with him, so Lukas set aside the letter with little hesitation and called for the visitor to enter.

With a quick stroke, Lukas ended the letter, promising Styx he would return to finish it later.

The door opened to reveal his mother, Selene of Dawn. The wyvern stepped inside, balancing a tray of food which Lukas quickly took from her; setting it down on the side.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said, brushing her hands together.

"Always," Lukas replied with a grin. "Thank you, Ma."

Selene mentioned, almost in passing, "Rosalia and Kaitlyn are off training as they usually are. Thought I'd come have a meal with my son. It's been hard to find some alone time with you, Lukas."

"That's good," Lukas said warmly. "Let's eat then, shall we?"

But before Lukas could take a seat, Selene moved closer and, without warning, wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Lukas chuckled softly, returning it before she pulled back to take a seat.

As she lowered herself, her eyes flicked toward the desk where he had been writing. "And what were you working on so intently before I interrupted?" she asked, her tone casual but curious.

Lukas hesitated, caught in the moment. He realized he had not spoken of Styx to anyone, not even his mother. But there was no real reason to hide her, especially not from his mother.

"A letter," he admitted after a pause.

"You were writing a letter? To who?" Selene pressed gently, her eyes narrowing with a playful suspicion.

Lukas met her gaze, then allowed the truth to slip free. "To the woman I love. Someone I met outside of Linemall."

Selene blinked, then broke into a surprised laugh, reaching across the table to place her hand over his. "And you are only telling me this now?"

"I suppose I wasn't ready before," Lukas confessed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Her hand squeezed his. "You don't know how happy this makes me, Lukas. When you are ready, I would very much like to meet this girl of yours."

"Of course. She's…amazing. You'll love her, I'm sure of it." Lukas promised softly.

The moment hung there, warm and unspoken, filling the sparse room with more comfort than its walls could ever hold. Yet in that glow of his mother's blessing, Lukas felt the ache sharpen inside him; his chest tightened with both gratitude and longing.

Selene lingered in her chair, her fingers brushing the rim of her cup before she finally spoke again.

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"Lukas," she began slowly, her voice calm yet probing, "is it true? Do you mean for the Great Houses to stand together? To unite Linemall as one?"

Lukas met her gaze without hesitation. The Lady Kaitlyn must have told her about their conversation before their departure and Lukas was not surprised that the Royal Consort did; the two shared an almost sisterly bond.

"Yes. I do. It's the only way forward. If we have any hope of setting our people free, it must be done together. And if war breaks out again—" Lukas drew a steady breath "—it's the only way we'll survive it."

Selene nodded, but there was something restrained in her expression, a thought waiting to be spoken.

Lukas leaned back, patient, because he knew his mother. She had always been among the wisest people he had ever met in this life and his last. It had been her wisdom, after all, that had given him the answer for how to deal with the Kraken before their departure to find Rodan.

If anyone had guidance for him now, it would be her.

Selene took a quiet sip of tea, then gestured toward the food she had brought. "Eat, Lukas. You think better on a full stomach."

Lukas obliged, taking a few bites before setting down his spoon.

That was when Selene finally spoke.

"If peace is what you want," she said evenly, "then you must understand—you cannot have it both ways."

Lukas frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You say you want the Great Houses united," she continued, "yet you still wish to fight Rysenth. You cannot call for peace in Linemall while preparing to ignite another war within it."

His jaw tightened. "You know what he's done, don't you?"

To his surprise, Selene only shrugged lightly, offering a small, knowing smile. "Of course I know. But, Lukas…it is not so simple as you are making it out to be. Nothing ever is. It never is just right or wrong."

Lukas shook his head in protest, setting his food aside. But before he could speak, Selene lifted a hand, silencing him with the same effortless authority a mother would always have over her son.

"Listen to me," Selene said. "It is easy to condemn Rysenth as a monster, someone beyond forgiveness. And yes—selling his sister into slavery was a cruel and unforgivable act. But tell me, Lukas—what of your contract with the Kraken? Did you not bind him in chains of servitude as though he were livestock? Tell me, does that not make you guilty of something not so different?"

Her words cut deep.

Lukas opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the words withered before they formed.

In the back of his mind, Lukas heard the Kraken stir, a lazy chuckle rumbling through the connection they shared. "She's right, you know." Lukas cursed him silently, but the weight of truth pressed down on him nonetheless.

His mother's eyes softened at his silence, and she smiled faintly at the frustration written across his face. "I do not say this to wound you, Lukas. You are not a bad person. You are my son and I love you for who you are. But you must see that no one is wholly good or wholly evil. If you truly want peace, you must stop dividing the world into simple categories—and stop letting your anger drive your choices."

His mother was right.

If what Lukas truly wanted was peace, then maybe picking a fight with Rysenth would only drag him further from it.

Lukas still could not shake the images that lingered from the connection he shared with Rysenth. Those memories and emotions that were not his own: the horrors Rysenth had endured, the shadows of fear that had carved him into what he was. Most of all, Lukas remembered the moment Rysenth realized a human, Rosalia, had been brought into Linemall. She was just a girl and yet it was that emotion that had been the strongest—fear, raw and consuming, eclipsing even his anger. It had caught Lukas off guard, that tremor of vulnerability that had come from Valkari's brother.

But still, Lukas could not bring himself to feel sympathy for the Dragon Lord of the Flames. It was because he had already made up his mind, he had pictured Rysenth Ishtar as this villain in his head; an image that had already been years in the making. An image that could not be erased so easily.

"I can't," Lukas muttered, shaking his head. "I can't just forget what he's done. I swore to Valkari that her brother would be brought to justice. That was my promise to her."

Selene's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as she cradled her cup. "And tell me, Lukas—what makes you believe you are meant to be judge, jury, and executioner? Is it truly your place to decide what justice is? Is it your right to decide what kind of justice Rysenth Ishtar faces?"

Her question cut into him.

"It's my responsibility," Lukas countered, his voice harder than he meant it to be. "I gave her my word. I made her a promise, Ma."

"Perhaps," Selene allowed with a slow nod. "But which responsibility is it that is more important to you? You too have a responsibility to your people. That is your burden. And maybe ensuring that Rysenth is brought to justice is not your burden to bear."

Lukas opened his mouth, but nothing came. His promise to Valkari bound him, yes, but his mother's words pierced straight through the certainty Lukas had wrapped himself in.

Could keeping his word and seeking justice truly be the same thing? Or had Lukas confused duty with vengeance?

The answer eluded him, slipping like water through his fingers.

Selene leaned forward, her gaze firm yet tender. "You may keep your promise to Valkari without damning yourself in the process, Lukas. Do not confuse the two. For what greater justice is there by ensuring that you create a world where our people are free? A world where this cycle of hate between our people and humanity can be put behind us."

Lukas lowered his eyes, jaw tense. He did not know what the right answer was anymore. The weight of his mother's wisdom pressed against him, as it always had, but this time it was heavier, more complicated than ever before.

And then—

There was a scream.

It cut through the quiet of the chamber, sharp and ragged with terror.

Lukas froze, his heart stopping for an instant before it lurched into a furious rhythm.

"Help!—"

The voice was unmistakable.

Both him and his mother shot to their feet, chairs scraping against the stone.

Lukas's pulse thundered in his ears as he lunged for the door.

"That was—"

"Little one," Lukas breathed, his chest tightening.

He recognized who that scream belonged to.

That scream had come from Rosalia Elarion, the Princess of Easthaven.

And by the sound it, Rosalia was in terrible danger.

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