[Sometimes before in Valentine Mansion]

Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the grand study, painting delicate reflections onto polished floors. Dozens of documents lay scattered across Lord Darian Valentine's desk — maps of borders, supply manifests, security directives — all bearing the same urgent theme:

The elves… their survival.

Darian stood behind the desk, one hand pressed against his chin, the other resting on a parchment marked with the sigil of the Elven Forest.

Selene Valentine sat across from him, her posture composed, but her fingers fidgeted against the folds of her elegant gown — betraying the storm inside.

"So the rumors are true…" she whispered, voice tremoring as she exhaled. "The Elven Forest… gone. Their queen… gone."

Darian's expression darkened — worry buried beneath his usual composed authority.

"Vincent and Luca confirmed it in their last message," he replied, tone low and solemn. "And they asked if we could shelter the remaining elves here. Ensure their protection."

Selene's grip tightened, knuckles paling as worry flashed across her crimson eyes.

"And the children? Luca, Vincent, Aurelia, the others… They're not injured, right?"

Her voice broke slightly — not from fear of political consequences, but from fear a mother only knows.

Darian stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand over hers.

"They are safe."

A soft sigh left him. "Stronger than ever, in fact. But… the weight they carry is not something any child should bear."

Selene lowered her gaze, feeling a pang of sorrow for the elves — a kingdom erased from the map in a single night.

"To lose one's home… one's leader…" she whispered, shaking her head. "What they must be feeling…"

Silence fell — heavy, empathetic.

Darian leaned back, returning to the immediate concerns.

"The resettlement will be difficult. The nobles will protest. And we must ensure resources are redirected quietly to avoid suspicion."

Selene nodded slowly. Her hand lifted to tuck a strand of violet hair behind her ear, mind racing ahead.

"And… what of Her Majesty?" she asked carefully. "Is the Empress informed about this?"

Darian drew a slow breath, preparing to answer—

But the doors slammed open.

A butler sprinted inside — face pale as if he had stared into the maw of a dragon. Sweat dampened his hair, and his chest heaved violently.

Both husband and wife turned toward him, startled.

"Your Grace—!" he gasped, voice cracking. "T-The—"

Selene immediately rose from her seat, concern tightening her features.

"Calm down. Breathe. Just tell us what happened."

But the poor man could not calm — panic clung to him like a curse. He clutched his vest, inhaling sharply as he forced himself to speak.

"H-Her Majesty… the Empress…"

His voice thinned to a squeak.

"She is here."

As the last word escaped him, the butler collapsed to his knees, arms falling limp as though a mountain had finally fallen off his shoulders.

Selene's heart skipped.

Darian's pupils constricted.

A moment of stunned silence — then both moved at once.

Silver eyes and crimson eyes locked — a single understanding passing between them.

The storm has arrived.

Without another word, they dashed out of the study, footsteps echoing through the mansion halls as they rushed toward the grand entrance

The massive double doors opened with a soft rumble — and the world seemed to hold its breath.

Standing beneath the archway was a woman of undeniable majesty.

Golden hair cascaded like molten sunlight, crowned with an intricate headpiece that shimmered with divine authority. Her armor, forged in radiant gold, glinted sharply beneath the torchlight, paired with sleek black tights to allow swift and lethal movement. A crimson cape billowed behind her — the color of power, of command… and of warning.

Crimson eyes — the same shade only found within the bloodline of dragons — stared forward with calm dominance, yet a quiet warmth hid beneath their stern glow.

The Empress of Astravia — Celestia Dragonair — had arrived.

Darian and Selene immediately sank to one knee, heads bowed deeply.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Your Majesty."

Their voices resonated in perfect unison.

Celestia lifted one elegant hand — a simple gesture, yet the air itself seemed to respond.

"There is no need for formalities between us."

Her voice was smooth — refined, yet carrying the effortless authority of someone who ruled continents.

They rose at once, though tension still clung to their spines. Celestia's gaze softened faintly as she looked at them — a rare expression seen only by a select few as fellow descendants of heroes.

Darian cleared his throat, stepping forward.

"What brings Your Majesty here personally? If there was a matter requiring attention, I would have come to the palace immediately."

Celestia's lips curled into a subtle smile — poised, unreadable.

"Do not worry, Sir Darian," she said, her cape swaying as she took a single step further into the hall. "I am not here for state affairs. And no one knows I am here."

Selene and Darian exchanged a tense glance.

Not even the palace knows…?

The Empress continued, confidence flowing through every word:

"I heard of what transpired with the Elven Forest. A tragedy… and a moment that demands unity."

She touched the edge of her cape lightly — a gesture of solemn respect.

"As the Empress, it is only proper that I welcome the elves to our land personally — to show them that this Empire stands with them. It will strengthen bonds… and hopes."

Her tone was composed — yet something deeper flickered beneath her words. A reason unspoken.

She turned slightly, gesturing toward the mansion doors with royal grace.

"So… shall we?"

Darian stiffened — then responded immediately, bowing again with a respectful nod.

"Yes, let us depart at once."

Selene followed, though her eyes lingered on the Empress with barely contained curiosity.

They both shared one more silent look —

Her Majesty came personally… just for this reason?

***

[Present — Luca's POV]

"What are you doing here?!"

Luca's voice echoed through the clearing like a slap.

Darian and Selene's eyes nearly popped out of their heads.

Vincent snapped his head toward Luca so fast his hair whipped in the air.

Kyle's expression screamed: He's dead.

Even Elowen and Sylthara stiffened — unsure what just happened, but fully aware they should be terrified.

Celestia blinked… just once.

The warm afternoon breeze fluttered her red cape — the only thing moving in the frozen silence.

Luca's heart dropped.

Oh crap.

I just talked to her like we were alone… in front of EVERYONE.

His eyes darted to Celestia — her face was calm, but those crimson eyes held a glimmer of… amusement?

That somehow made it worse.

He immediately bowed — nearly headbutting the ground.

"I—I deeply apologize, Your Majesty! I was shocked to see you here in person. Please forgive my rudeness!"

Everyone else fell to their knees with a loud rustling of clothes and armor.

"We greet Your Majesty!"

Darian and Selene were sweating buckets — Selene whispering behind clenched teeth:

"How… how can he speak to Her Majesty like that?!" Darian: "Shhh! He must have lost his mind!"

Celestia lifted her hand lightly — dismissive, elegant.

"Rise."

Her tone was smooth — not angry, not offended — as if the outburst never happened.

She didn't even spare Luca a glance, which somehow terrified him more than a scolding would have.

She didn't even look at me.

Luca didn't know if that was good…

or terrifying.

Celestia's attention shifted — her crimson eyes softening as she stepped toward Elowen and Sylthara.

"You must be Elowen and…. Sylthara of the Dark Elves, I presume."

Both young women stiffened, bowing slightly — unsure of the proper human etiquette.

"Yes, Your Majesty," they responded together, voices trembling.

Celestia looked at them with a rare sorrow in her eyes.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss… losing your home and your queen. But worry not — the Empire and I will stand with you through these times."

Elowen lowered her head, swallowing back the pain still raw inside her. Sylthara's lips pressed together — pride and grief warring behind her steady gaze.

Aurelia suddenly slid beside Luca and pinched the back of his arm.

"What were you thinking talking like that?!" she hissed.

Luca flinched — rubbing the attacked spot.

"I just panicked—! She surprised me!" he muttered, eyes glued to the Empress.

Celestia continued addressing the elves:

"As for your living arrangements—"

BOOOOM!!

A devastating thunderclap split the sky.

Everyone froze.

Clouds gathered unnaturally fast above the Valentine Mansion — swelling like a storm of rage ready to burst. A pillar of lightning struck the ground, shaking the earth beneath their feet.

Dust. Wind. Light — all roaring in that single direction.

Luca's blood ran ice-cold.

"T-That's… the direction of the mansion…"

His head turned — locking eyes with Celestia.

Her expression sharpened — recognition, danger, urgency.

His breath hitched.

Baby Dragon…

The realization struck like a blade.

His muscles moved before thought.

"Baby dragon is in the mansion—!"

Without another word, Luca dashed — no, sprinted — so fast the world blurred around him. Wind tore at his clothes, heartbeat hammering like a war drum.

The landscape vanished beneath h

is feet as fear — raw, consuming fear — drowned all else.

Just be safe.

Please… BE SAFE.

Don't let anything happen to her.

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