The next morning, Thale was on high alert.
Sirens howled across the city walls—deep, warbling notes like a dying beast. Mages scrambled from barracks and towers. Even the sky had changed: the second sun had dimmed, casting everything in bruised twilight.
Amine stood outside the training hall, heart thudding, as Mira approached with her coat billowing behind her.
"Scouting party spotted a dragon—class Gamma-Red. Not a newborn. Not an elder. Smart enough to flank. Big enough to raze Thale."
"You're sending us?" Amine asked, still breathless from last night's summon.
Mira shook her head. "No. Not yet. You're not ready."
But her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
In the courtyard, Kael was already waiting, sharpening twin knives etched with crimson glyphs. He didn't look concerned.
"I heard it's a wingless one," he said. "Crawlers like that usually tunnel under cities. Cheery way to go—swallowed whole by something older than the map you live on."
Amine grimaced. "You're very calming."
Kael grinned. "I try."
Despite the alarm, Mira pulled Amine aside for an impromptu test in a stone circle ringed by glowing runes.
"I want you to summon Thanor again. This time, I want you to control him."
Amine hesitated. "He doesn't... listen to me. He doesn't talk."
"Eidolons rarely do," Mira replied. "They speak in instinct. You need to give him something stronger than his nature."
He took a breath.
Last time, it had happened on its own—grief and terror colliding. Now, with Thale burning on the horizon and the weight of expectation on his shoulders, it had to be intentional.
He closed his eyes.
Rooftop. Wind. Silence. Then the scream that never came.
A whisper of flame curled at his feet. The air shimmered.
And then—
BOOM.
Thanor emerged from a split in the earth, his claws tearing the ring's stone apart. His form was unstable this time—his ribs opened like a broken gate, and from his spine, shadowy spears extended. He roared, but not at Amine.
At himself.
Mira stepped forward, hand glowing, but Amine raised a hand.
"No," he whispered. "Let me try."
He took a step toward Thanor.
The beast tensed.
Another.
The spears flickered, the chains rattled.
"I know you're angry," Amine said. "I am too. But we're stuck here, both of us. So if you're part of me... stop tearing me apart."
Silence.
Then—Thanor knelt.
The spears retracted. The chains fell slack.
And the flame in his chest dimmed just slightly.
Later, Kael found him on the parapet, watching smoke rise from the far hills.
"You got him to obey?" Kael asked, tossing him a flask. "That's rare."
"Not obey," Amine replied. "Understand."
Kael considered that. "Good. You'll need him soon."
"Why?"
Kael pointed to the sky.
A thin crack had formed near the Sky Wound. Smaller than the one above it—but new.
"You see that?" he said. "It means a rift's forming closer. Dragons aren't just dropping in anymore. They're coming through doors."
Amine stared up at the fracture. Cold dread settled in his stomach.
"How long before one opens above Thale?"
Kael didn't answer.
He didn't need to.