The three dragons landed with earth-shaking precision in the Silverstone estate gardens. Kaelen's bronze scales caught the first rays of dawn. Tiamat's ice-blue form seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. And Bahamut—massive, ancient, golden as the sun itself—settled with surprising grace for something the size of a commercial aircraft.
Inside the medical wing, Luna lay in Seraphina's arms, her breathing finally steady after the bloodline crisis. But something had changed. Her eyes were still closed, yet Seraphina could feel vast awareness radiating from her daughter's tiny form.
"She's not sleeping," Helena said quietly, monitoring the energy readings. "She's... preparing."
"For what?" Damon moved closer, his newly awakened Reality Anchor senses picking up fluctuations in the space around Luna. The air felt pregnant with potential, like the moment before lightning strikes.
