The silence that followed was not the suffocating stillness of before—it was the kind that came after a storm, when the air still hummed with the memory of lightning.
Illyria's fingers lingered on the glowing crack at the center of Caelus's chest. The light faded slowly under her touch, as if reluctant to leave.
She understood now. Every fissure in his form was not a sign of weakness, but proof of his rebellion—each one carved by a choice to protect, to feel, to love.
If the gods called her a curse… then she was a curse forged by love and defiance.
Her magic, still clinging faintly to his, caught the echoes of his final words in the memory: Be the illusion, not the puppet.
It struck her deeper than any blade. She had lived her life thinking she was weaving her own fate, but now she saw the strings—some held by others, some she'd tied around herself.
Caelus leaned back against the stone, his breath shallow. "I can only hold this realm's gates open for a short while longer. If you stay…" His gaze met hers, unflinching. "…you will be trapped here with me."
The thought burned in her chest. To stay would mean safety—but also stagnation. To leave would mean returning to a world where every move she made could be another step into the gods' snare.
She rose, her cloak brushing the fractured floor. "I can't stay. If I do, they win."
A slow, proud smile curved Kaelas's lips. "Then go. But remember—your name was never theirs to define."
---
She stepped back from him, the portal well behind her still swirling faintly with illusion magic she had set before coming here. As her foot crossed the threshold, she looked over her shoulder one last time.
Caelus was no longer just her father—he was the dragon who had taught her the price of feeling in a world built to strip it away.
The well swallowed her whole, the stone realm dissolving into darkness.
When she emerged, the world above was still the same… but she was not.
Her hand closed over her heart. The cracks she had seen in Caelus—she could feel the beginnings of them in herself. And for the first time, she did not fear them.
---
The well of illusion shimmered faintly above her head, a wavering ceiling between two worlds. Down here, in the soft-lit abyss, Illyria's knees pressed into the pale stone beside Kaelus. The air was thick with the scent of old magic — the kind that tasted faintly of storms and grief. His vast frame lay in a half-reclined position, tail curling loosely around them both, the great, time-worn scales shifting when he breathed.
The chamber beyond the well was steeped in a stillness too deep for the living. Only the faint shimmer of Illyria's illusion magic kept the place tethered to her, its delicate threads shimmering faintly around her as she stood beside Kaelus. His massive form lay against the curved wall of crystal rock, each breath a slow, pained tremor. The cracks across his body were clearer in the dim light—ragged lines of molten gold that pulsed faintly with life, yet threatened to splinter further at any moment.
"Stay," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Just… a little longer."
Illyria did. She sank to her knees, pressing her hand against the warm, uneven surface of his foreleg. The scales there were worn, each one etched with the scars of battles older than her bloodline. Her magic hummed faintly between them, trying to stitch the moment into permanence.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she whispered.
Kaelus' molten-gold eyes softened. "Because once you knew, the weight could never be put down again." He tilted his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his features. "You were my one joy untouched by truth."
A faint, brittle ache lodged itself in her chest. She wanted to memorize every word, every breath, every glint of him—because she could feel the pull of reality outside this realm. Time here was slipping.
"You will see more than you wish," he murmured, the words sinking like anchors into her mind. "And when you do, remember—those memories are mine. They are not you. Do not drown in the river I carried."
Her answer was cut short.
The chamber's air trembled. A ripple ran through her illusion magic, the silvery threads distorting and tearing. Light—too bright, too white—bled into the edges of the room, warping the shapes around her.
"Illyria…"
The voice slithered in like smoke, wrapping itself around her name with the kind of sweetness that carried teeth. She turned, but before she could react, the world tilted. The crystalline walls split open like a dream undone, and her body was dragged backward, away from Kaelus. She caught the faintest glimpse of his golden eyes before the light devoured everything.
---
For a long while, neither spoke. She simply sat there, her hand resting over the largest crack along his chest — the one that pulsed faintly, like a wound refusing to close. His gaze, golden and deep with unspoken centuries, lingered on her as though memorising her face.
"You've grown quiet," Kaelus rumbled softly.
Illyria's lips curved into the faintest smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "If I speak, I'll have to say goodbye. I'm not ready for that."
His talon — gentle despite its size — brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Neither am I, little flame. But the sun waits for no one."
She ignored the tremor in his voice and leaned into his side, eyes closing. "Let it wait. For once in my life, I want to take what time owes me."
He chuckled, though it sounded more like a sigh wrapped in a laugh. "You were never meant to linger here. This place… it's my cage, not yours."
Illyria tilted her head, studying the cracks running through his body. They caught the dim light like silver rivers. "They're beautiful," she whispered. "Even if they hurt you."
"They are ugly, Illyria," he replied, voice low. "Ugly because they mean I broke my purpose. Twice. Once for your mother. And once for you."
Her breath caught.
Kaelus lowered his head until their foreheads almost touched. "I was made without emotion — forged to be a weapon, a guardian of time and space. And yet… your mother's kindness shattered me. Then you came, and I shattered again. These cracks are not marks of strength. They are the proof that I loved where I should not have."
Illyria swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking into her bones.
"My child," he murmured, "I want you to see me as I am. Take my memories. Read them all. But remember — they are mine, not yours. Do not drown in them. Do not mistake my life for your own."
Her fingertips pressed deeper over the wound, feeling the faint thrum beneath. "I'll remember," she promised.
Kaelus closed his eyes, and the world bled away.
In a rush, she saw it — his birth in the void before the realms were named, the forging of his body from stardust and divine decree, the millennia of cold, perfect service. She saw her mother's face through his eyes: a gentle radiance that cracked his armour with a single smile. She saw herself as a newborn, not crying but wide-eyed, bathed in the soft glow of a love forbidden.
Pain pulsed with every memory. Love and loss blurred until she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.
When the torrent finally broke, she found herself trembling against his scales, breath ragged. Kaelus looked at her with that patient sadness he always wore.
"Time is thin between us now," he said. "The sun has risen."
Illyria blinked. "Already?"
"You have your mother's defiance," he murmured, voice deep, carrying both weight and a trace of sorrow. His talons shifted against the obsidian ground, sending soft tremors through the air.
Illyria tilted her head, her gaze meeting his without flinching. "And your stubbornness."
Kaelus chuckled faintly, though it sounded more like the distant rumble of mountains. "Stubbornness… perhaps. But my cracks tell another story." His claws tapped against his chest, where the deep fissures in his scales glowed faintly with white fire. "Once for her. Once for you. Each born of love I should never have known."
Illyria felt the weight of his words sink into her, the silence between them drawing tight, as if time itself slowed to let her hear every echo.
But that fragile quiet was pierced—ruthlessly.
A shadow rippled across the edges of her illusion. The well above flickered — not from her own magic, but from something slicing through it. She stiffened.
"That would be her," Kaelus said quietly, almost amused.
Light exploded overhead, ripping the illusion apart.
The underground realm wavered, then shattered into a thousand shards of silver glass, each one melting into the air.
---
Illyria landed hard on her bed — her real bed — the sunlight already crawling across the marble floor. A dark silhouette leaned casually against the window frame, the morning breeze tugging at her hair.
The velvet-dark warmth of her bedchamber greeted her, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. And standing at the foot of her bed, leaning against the carved post as though she owned the place, was Seraphine.
She was dressed in black—silk clinging like a second skin, her hair spilling in soft, deliberate waves. The faintest curve of her lips hinted at both amusement and threat.
"You left your door unlocked," she said in a voice that managed to be both playful and cutting. "Tsk. Dangerous habit."
Seraphine.
Her smile was slow, the kind of smile that made the air between them dangerous. "Tsk, tsk, little spirit. Hiding from me already?"
Illyria propped herself on her elbows, heartbeat still thrumming from Kaelus's touch. "You broke my illusion."
"You make it sound like I ruined a masterpiece," Seraphine purred, stepping closer. "I only wanted to see what you were so desperate to keep from me. Imagine my surprise when I find you sleeping with another dragon.""Or… perhaps you'd prefer I let you stay lost in that little daydream with your precious Kaelus."
"It wasn't—" Illyria started, then stopped herself. The smirk on Seraphine's lips told her exactly how much she'd enjoy dragging this out.
Illyria's magic stirred reflexively, a thin shimmer of defensive wards curling around her skin. "You sound jealous."
"Oh, darling." Seraphine's smile sharpened, eyes glinting. "I'm not jealous. I'm simply curious how far you'd go to stay in someone else's shadow."
The older woman circled the bed like a predator playing with its prey. "So, tell me… was yesterday's test too much for you? Or was that little escape your way of admitting you're afraid?"
Illyria's fingers curled into the sheets. "Afraid of what?"
"That I might leave you." Seraphine's voice dropped into something silken, dangerous. "That once you've passed all my little trials, you'll be of no use to me anymore."
The air between them thickened. Seraphine's mana unfurled like a storm front—hot, electric, and unapologetically dangerous. Illyria's own power rose to meet it, crackling faintly, neither of them backing down.
"You think you can just walk in here and—"
"Yes," Seraphine interrupted smoothly, closing the last step between them. She reached out, fingers brushing the edge of Illyria's jaw. "I can. And I will. Because whether you like it or not, you're still mine to wake when you drift too far."
Illyria caught her wrist, but didn't push her away. "Why?"
Seraphine's smile softened, but only slightly. "Because yesterday's test wasn't just about magic. It was about you. What you'd cling to. What you'd surrender."
The words hit harder than they should have. Illyria's gaze fell, shadows pooling in her chest.
The memory of the trial flashed through Illyria's mind—the impossible choices, the threads of illusion and reality weaving together until she could barely breathe. Her throat tightened. "And what if I passed? Will you leave me? Will everyone leave me? Will I become… truly alone?"
Seraphine's eyes flickered, a rare shadow passing through them. "Is that what you fear? Being orphaned twice over?"
She stopped at the edge of the bed, her shadow spilling over Illyria like a shroud. "And if I did?"
Illyria's voice was quieter now, though no less sharp. "If that's my fate… then let me drown myself in the only thing left. I can remember everything, Seraphine. Every word, every glance. If nothing's real, then I'll drink from the illusions until they are."
She moved suddenly, breaking Seraphine's hold and crossing to the low table by the window. A crystal decanter of deep red wine sat waiting, as though it had known she would come to it. She poured herself a glass, the liquid catching the sunlight like blood.
Seraphine watched her, eyes narrowing faintly. "Careful, little queen. Wine has a way of making even the sharpest memories feel sweet enough to poison."
Seraphine watched her without blinking.
Illyria took a slow sip, the taste rich and dark on her tongue. "Then perhaps I want to be poisoned." She glanced over her shoulder, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Would you stop me?"
Seraphine's answer was wordless. In a single step, she closed the space between them, her hand curling over Illyria's where it gripped the glass. Her touch was warm, almost gentle—yet the magic threading through it thrummed with dangerous intent.
"Stop you?" Seraphine murmured, her lips brushing dangerously close to Illyria's ear. "No. I'd join you."
Illyria's fingers curled around the cup, the liquid inside catching the sunlight like liquid rubies. "If I drown," she said quietly, "I'll drown in memories. Drunk memories. And if you're going to stand there, you might as well be the one I drown with."
That earned her a slow smile from Seraphine, one that was equal parts amusement and challenge. "Careful, little flame. You tempt monsters with words like that."
Illyria took a slow sip, her gaze never leaving Seraphine's. "Then burn me."
Seraphine's smirk deepened as she leaned down, close enough that her breath brushed Illyria's ear. "Careful, little spirit. Drink with me, and you might not survive the night."
Illyria's lips curved into something almost defiant. "Then let me die drunk on your company."
Seraphine plucked the glass from Illyria's hand and took a slow, deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving hers. Then, without warning, she flicked her wrist. A coil of magic lashed out, tangling around Illyria's wrists and pulling her upright.
"Still want to play?"
Illyria's answering smile was dangerous. "Always."
The room erupted in light and shadow as their magic clashed — playful, yes, but each strike carried an edge sharp enough to draw blood if they wished. Seraphine's spells wrapped around Illyria like smoke, testing her defences, while Illyria's mind magic reached out, brushing the edges of Seraphine's thoughts.
The older woman blocked her with a burst of heat, forcing Illyria back against the bed. "Tsk. Peeking again? Naughty."
Illyria's laughter was breathless. "You make it too easy to want to."
They moved like dancers — dangerous, breath-stealing dancers — until the wineglass toppled, spilling crimson across the white sheets. Neither noticed.
Then Seraphine leaned forward just enough for her lips to nearly brush Illyria's ear. "You passed my test yesterday," she murmured. "But don't think for a moment that means you've won."
Illyria's breath caught, but her voice was steady when she answered. "Then give me another."
The challenge hung between them like a drawn blade, glinting in the morning light.
Seraphine stepped back at last, her smile all dangerous promise. "Careful what you wish for, little flame."
Illyria only smiled in return, the taste of wine and the echo of Kaelus's words still lingering in her mouth.
When at last Seraphine stilled, she was close enough that Illyria could see the faint curve of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Little spirit," she murmured. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might start believing you're mine."
Illyria's reply was almost a whisper. "Maybe I already am."
Seraphine didn't answer — not with words. But the heat in her gaze was answer enough.
For a heartbeat, the air between them felt electric — a storm coiled in silk.
The tension snapped taut between them—playful, perilous, impossible to name.
Outside, the sun climbed higher, spilling gold across the room. Inside, the air was thick with the mingling weight of memory and promise, of threats wrapped in silk and longing veiled in taunts.
And somewhere, deep beneath the surface of Illyria's chest, the cracks began to shift.