The wind that swept over Ryuuji's island was colder than usual. It carried a different scent—sharper, uneasy—as if the world beyond the sea had begun to stir restlessly. Atop the cliffside, overlooking the waves, Ryuuji stood alone with a fur-lined cloak hanging from his shoulders. His gaze pierced the distance, though his heart was firmly rooted in memory.
A blue phoenix feather fluttered in the wind—carried not by nature, but by magic.
Ryuuji caught it in one hand. A moment later, the feather burst into light, projecting a small magical image—a spell known only to a handful of people. The face that formed above his palm was familiar. An old ally. An old friend.
"If you're alive, Ryuuji… this might be the last message I can send."
The voice belonged to Raphtael, the Angelic Touch. His calm yet emotional tone was laced with exhaustion.
"Reina and I are in Velhara. We've been moving in the shadows for weeks, trying to avoid the Council's hounds. They've labeled us as remnants of 'unapproved magic,' citing ancient laws none of us ever heard of. They know what we know, Ryuuji. They know we traveled with you."
The image flickered.
"They've tried to make us disappear. If this gets to you, I don't care what happens to me anymore—just get Reina out of here. I'll hold them off if I have to."
The magic fizzled into nothing, the sea wind taking the remnants of the light with it.
Ryuuji stared into the silence for a long time. Then, slowly, he turned back to the heart of his growing village.
The peaceful life they had built—fields of green, dragon sentries watching the skies, laughter of children, scent of wood smoke and bread—was still there. But something beneath it had shifted.
Sierra was the first to see his expression as he approached the central square.
"You found them, didn't you?" she asked, tightening her grip on the cloth she had been folding. Her eyes narrowed, the old calm replaced with focused fire.
"Velhara," Ryuuji said simply.
Duncan looked up from where he was sharpening a massive curved blade. "That's deep in the old empire's borderlands. That's not just Council land—that's the core of their web."
"They're being hunted," Ryuuji added, voice low. "Raphtael said they're going after them for 'unapproved magic.' That sounds like Council-speak for 'we're afraid of you.'"
Sierra crossed her arms. "The same kind of fear they had for you."
Elysia emerged from the shade of a silver tree nearby, her silver hair flowing down her back like a living waterfall. She had already heard the news. "The Council never did like things they couldn't control," she murmured. "And they certainly couldn't control us."
Ryuuji turned to her. "They'll regret trying."
Her crimson eyes glittered with quiet pride. "They already do."
---
Later that night, a fire blazed in the village's gathering hall. The walls were simple stone and enchanted wood, reinforced by dragonkind, but the warmth inside was that of family and unity. Every villager, from the smith to the shepherd, sat in silent attention as Ryuuji stood before them, surrounded by Sierra, Duncan, and Elysia.
"This place we've made here—it's a haven," Ryuuji began, voice steady. "But some of the people who helped make this possible... are still out there. And they're in danger."
He told them everything. About Reina, the fierce-hearted catgirl whose claws tore through legions and whose heart once longed for him before resting beside Raphtael's. About Raphtael, the quiet healer whose emotions always overflowed but whose resolve never faltered. About their battles against the Demon Lord—and the bonds they forged in fire.
"They're more than friends," Ryuuji said, eyes meeting each of the villagers. "They're family. Just like all of you now."
He paused, glancing toward the open door of the hall. Outside, dragons soared on their night patrols, watching over the island and its chain of neighbors like ancient guardians.
"We will find them. We will bring them home. And if the Council tries to stop us again… then we'll tear it down."
Sierra stepped beside him. "Brick by brick."
Duncan placed a hand on Ryuuji's shoulder, grunting. "From the bottom, we rebuild. With people who remember what the world should be."
Elysia, regal and strong, addressed the gathered dragons behind the hall. "Begin tightening the patrols. No one comes to these islands unless they carry the mark of Ryuuji. This is our last sanctuary—and we protect it with fire."
---
The next morning, preparations began.
Ships enchanted with wind runes were being reinforced.
Duncan drew up maps of old Council roads and underground contacts.
Sierra sharpened her wind blades, her quiet demeanor hiding the storm inside.
And Ryuuji… stood at the small altar near the cliffs, where Kiko had placed a flower crown for her "friends that haven't come home yet."
He whispered, "Hang on, you two."
Behind him, Elysia stepped up silently and took his hand.
"You won't be alone."
Ryuuji nodded, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips.
"No," he said. "None of us are anymore."