A ship cut through the silver-blue waves with effortless precision, its gilded hull glinting under the sun as if carved from the light itself. From its highest deck, a series of ornate observation platforms stretched skyward, intricate railings etched with gold and lacquer, allowing the occupants an unobstructed view of the island below.
A group of people, dressed in fully white outfits with glass bowls covering their heads stood in small clusters, robes rustling in the wind, their expressions a mixture of detached curiosity and cold amusement. From this vantage point, God Valley was a patchwork of color: tents and stalls, laughter drifting up like smoke, the scent of roasting meats and sweet pastries carried faintly on the breeze. To anyone else, it might have looked like a festival, ordinary and innocuous. But the Dragons saw something far more deliberate.
"Look at them," one Dragon murmured, a delicate fan brushing against her lips. "So many, all gathered in one place. Such… vulnerability."
The mortals below did not know it yet. To them, this was celebration. To the Gods, it was sport. And to the Celestial Dragons, it was a playground of blood and fortune, where the island itself had been marked as a stage for their amusement.
A low, deliberate laugh broke the stillness. "Let the games begin," one Dragon murmured, eyes glinting as the tiny figures scurrying below became pieces in a game centuries in the making.
Shadows stretched long over the rough earth as Argento led the way, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. Veyra clung to his arm, small and trembling, yet moving with a determined step to keep up. Celestia stayed close, her presence a steadying force, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed every flicker of fear.
The music and laughter of the festival grew louder, a surreal soundtrack to the storm of dread and determination that surged through them. Each step toward the crowd felt like wading deeper into a trap, yet the memory gnawed at Argento, sharp and unrelenting. The fruit could be there… hidden among the chaos… a prize worth risking everything.
"Stay close," Celestia murmured, her eyes scanning the moving crowd, every shadow a possible threat. "Do not let go. Do not..."
"...I won't," Argento cut in, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed ahead. "We move together. We see it through. Carefully."
Argento pressed his small hand over Veyra's, squeezing it tight. His voice was low but firm, carrying the weight of the thought that had rooted itself in his mind.
"We will find a place to hide," he said, eyes scanning the edges of the square, the shadows between stalls and carts. "And wait… wait until the chaos takes over. Then… then we go for the prizes."
Veyra blinked up at him, unsure whether to hope or tremble. Celestia's gaze flicked between them, sharp and calculating, and finally, a thin line of acknowledgment formed on her lips. She nodded, silently agreeing that for now, patience was their shield.
Together, they melted into the shadows of the festival, hearts pounding, muscles coiled, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
A hush fell over the festival square. Merchants froze mid-step, children clutched at their parents' hands, and even the music seemed to falter, strangled by the weight of the moment.
"Everyone… on your knees!" The voice rang out, cold and commanding, echoing across the plaza.
Argento swallowed hard, eyes wide. Towering figures draped in gilded robes and ornated glass hats stood on elevated platforms, their presence radiating authority that seemed almost divine. The crowd bowed low, their heads scraping the cobblestones in fear and reverence.
"It's… it's a Celestial Dragon," Veyra whispered, clutching his sleeve. "The Gods… they've blessed us with their presence."
Celestia's grip on their shoulders tightened, her voice low and urgent. "Stay here. Keep low. Don't let them see you."
Argento's stomach twisted. Every instinct screamed danger, but his mind raced with a single thought: They're not here for the people... they're here for the hunting festival. We need to wait… watch… and hide carefully.
Celestia pressed a finger to her lips, eyes scanning the plaza below. "Stay close. Don't make a sound. If they see even a shadow…" Her voice trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging heavy in the air.
Veyra shivered against him, her small hand clutching his arm. "They… they look like gods…" she whispered.
"They act like it," Argento murmured, heart hammering. "But we're not their audience. We're not part of this show." He swallowed hard, forcing his panic down. "We wait for the chaos. Then… then we move."
The square fell into an uneasy hush as the Celestial Dragons stepped forward, their robes gleaming in the midday sun, embroidered with threads that caught the light like liquid gold. Each movement was deliberate, regal, and oppressive. Their attendants flanked them, weapons polished, faces solemn, anticipation coiled in every line.
One of the Dragons raised a jeweled hand, voice carrying with unnatural clarity over the crowd. "People of God Valley," he began, sharp and commanding, "you are blessed today. Blessed by our presence, by the Gods themselves who have deemed this island… ripe for judgment."
"We have traveled far," another voice followed, smoother, almost seductive, "to witness the fruits of your labor… and to claim what is rightfully ours. The prizes of this festival are not for you, nor for your amusements. They are our rewards, as decreed by Heaven itself."
The first Dragon's lips curled in a faint, cruel smile. "Those who dare to interfere with what the Gods have sanctioned… shall be dealt with accordingly. Let it be known: the hunt begins."