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Epilogue

Lumara had weathered the storm of the Rothdellian attack, its towering fortresses battered by elemental fury, their once-proud spires cracked and scarred, yet not defeated. They still loomed above the skyline, resolute and unyielding, standing as a defiant testament to the unbreakable spirit of its people.

Though as swiftly as they had begun to recover from the attack, the king’s untimely demise spread through the streets like wildfire, reaching from the highest nobles to the lowest hamlet. Thousands of shocked voices came at the brutality of such an attack, right in the heart of their once safe kingdom.

What had once been a wavering flame of uncertainty—one that threatened to snuff itself out—was now fanned into an inferno of vengeance. The calls for retribution echoed through the streets, ringing in the ears of every human and gryphon alike, seeping into the very soil they called home. The land trembled beneath the weight of their fury, and in that moment, Lumara steeled itself for the coming battles. They would not rest, nor would they falter, until their enemies’ blood had been spilled in kind.

Elowen, the half-elven woman who had brought Suntail’s mighty fortress to its knees and aided Arcturus and his companions, now stood outside the city walls, savoring the sweet taste of victory. Her refuge was within a sacred garden of Fureen, a place where the lush vegetation paid tribute to the goddess of the sun and harvest. The vibrant hills of emerald-green stretched out before her, but her eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on the city of Entis. Its walls, its spires reaching for the heavens, and all within it—one day it would be hers to command.

She wore an elegant white dress, with golden stitching that gleamed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of ancient trees, the crimson sash at her waist a bold statement against the purity of the fabric. Her fiery red hair, intricately braided, cascaded down her back with a practiced elegance that matched her every move. A satisfied smile curved her thin lips, her golden eyes alight with delight. The trials of the past days had certainly tested her resolve, but victory had come. The book was now safely in the hands of the adventurers, the king had been cut down, and the path ahead had never been clearer.

The garden around her was a masterpiece of nature, its hedges sculpted into the likenesses of Sethera’s creatures, as if the wild beauty of the land had been tamed by unseen hands. The air was rich with the perfume of blooming flowers, a heady mix that seemed to carry whispers of magic on the wind. Pedals of nearly every color shimmered as if enchanted, clinging to the senses like a half-remembered dream. And beyond, in the distance, Entis loomed—its towers glittering in the sunlight, airships and gryphons soaring like specks against the grandeur of its skyline.

Elowen moved through her guests with the effortless grace of someone accustomed to being the center of attention. The vibrant colors of their garments—deep crimsons, brilliant emeralds, and shimmering sapphires—reflected the wealth and status of the crowd. They were dressed in finery more suited to monarchs than mere attendees at a garden party. Conversations paused as she passed, and every guest, from the most seasoned politician to the youngest mage, bowed or knelt in her presence, momentarily breaking from their discussions of power, magic, and intrigue. Elowen couldn’t suppress a wry smile at the grumblings she overheard about Veledar and Arcturus.

Floating chess pieces glided across invisible boards as guests played in near silence, their eyes locked in strategic concentration. A group danced around a band of instruments that hung in the air, playing without any musician’s touch, their melodies blending with the murmur of the crowd. Nearby, kobold servants, dressed in bowties that barely fit their small frames, weaved through the gathering, offering trays of drinks that steamed, bubbled, and shimmered with vibrant hues.

On any other day, Elowen might have joined the festivities, perhaps indulging in a game or sharing in the lively conversation. But today was different. Today, she had more important company—two figures who stood out amidst the dazzling colors and vibrant energy like shadows cast in bright daylight. They were not like the others, and that made them even more intriguing.

Clad in dark brown attire, stitched with the brightest gold, Caecillius—the Ceullus—sat on a raised ivory platform, a checkered table between him and his guest. His chestnut fur gleamed under the sun, while his striking green eyes and mane of onyx and gold gave him a dignified, almost regal appearance. Ceullus, towering horse-like humanoids, were known for their strength and resilience, and Caecillius embodied that power. He stood at least a head taller than most humans, his golden horseshoes gleaming as they caught the light with each subtle movement of his charcoal hooves. A sword rested easily at his side, but his posture was relaxed, inviting, as he extended a three-fingered hand—each one thick and like hooves themselves.

"Everything to your liking, Your Grace?" Caecillius asked, his deep voice carrying a note of confidence. "It took some time, but I believe the kobolds have finally learned to serve drinks without spilling them all over your guests."

Elowen’s eyes trailed to the black collar encircling his neck, its golden draconic runes shimmering in the sunlight. A symbol of his place, a reminder that he was hers, another treasure in her collection.

“Oh, it’s ever wonderful, Caecillius.” Elowen replied sweetly, taking his hand in hers and applying a teasing kiss, playing her part as elegant lady to her beloved knight.

Across from him, the blunt voice of Korrath broke the charm of the moment. "Is all of this really necessary?" The words were as coarse as the warrior himself. He too wore one of her collars, though it seemed an odd fit for the massive, reptilian figure. The suit he’d been forced into, with its pristine fabric and careful tailoring, could not have looked more ill-suited to him. It concealed his scarred crimson scales, a body built for battle and bloodshed rather than the refinement of the elegant party. His blunted snout, designed for smashing through shields rather than sipping fine wine, aimed her way, his vibrant yellow eyes narrow with skepticism. His thickly scaled tail lashed out beneath the table, shaking it as he fumbled again with the collar. "What even is the meaning of this?” He hissed venom.

Elowen couldn't suppress the smile of amusement tugging at her lips. "You didn’t hear me complain when we performed that ritual of yours under the full moon. I even cut my paw and everything, remember?"

"That at least had some dignity, some grit." Korrath growled.

"Too refined for your tastes, Korrath?"

Caecillius flicked an ear and chuckled softly, adding a quiet, “Some battles take place in the arena, others at a banquet table.”

The Karaxian’s gaze swept over her and the crowd, a slow, deliberate challenge in his eyes. “When you said ‘party,’ I expected more fighting. Blood, chaos, the thrill of a good brawl. Not... whatever this is.” His voice rumbled like a distant storm, full of barely contained disdain.

Elowen let out a theatrical sigh, conjuring an elegant ivory teapot with a flick of her fingers, golden dragons curling around its surface. “Next time, I’ll make sure baby can throw some punches and spill a little blood. Will that be enough for you?”

Korrath’s low growl vibrated in his chest as he crossed his muscular, scarred arms. “Baby? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve spilled more blood than half this kingdom, and for fun. When are you gonna stop pretending to be this soft, repulsive little she-elf?”

She traced a rune through the air, summoning teacups and plates that matched the teapot’s dragon motif. She shook her head, smirking. Korrath knew her better than most. "You realize most people would think twice before calling their mistress ugly—”

His laugh of rebuttal was a rough, gravelly sound, deep and guttural. “Go ahead, then. Kill me where I sit. Rip me apart, bathe the floor in my blood. At least then things would be interesting.”

“How dramatic,” Elowen mused as she handed out the teacups, each porcelain piece delicate and ornate. “But where’s the fun in that? Especially when I can dress you up like a doll and watch you squirm.” She shot Korrath a playful look, one that widened into a grin when he grunted, glaring at her from beneath furrowed, scaled brows.

Caecillius, ever attentive, flicked his ears, his green eyes scanning the setting as he took his cup. “Four cups? Are we expecting someone?” His gaze swept over the guests; his tone curious. “Anyone we know?”

“In time. They’re on their way here, even as we speak,” she replied, her voice holding a note of mystery. With a casual flick of her wrist, a parchment appeared, pulled from the air as if it had always been waiting for the perfect moment. “But before that, could you look at something for me?” The gleam of mischief in her eyes was impossible to miss as she laid the simple object before him.

His ears twitched, a clear sign of his unease. “My lady, my expertise lies in the sword, not art.”

Her eyes danced with amusement, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Oh, you underestimate yourself, my pretty Ceullus. I’m sure there’s more to you than you think. Depths of skill just waiting to be discovered.” Her finger tapped the parchment, her playful gaze daring him to take a closer look.

The painting sprawled before him was a chaotic swirl of colors, smeared and bleeding into one another like a storm had passed through the canvas. The uneven brushstrokes stood out in thick globs, as if the artist had hurled paint at it with reckless abandon. What might have been a serene countryside was instead a tattered mess of misshapen trees and jagged hills. Amid the wreckage, stick-figure Ceullus were scattered across the scene, their snouts exaggerated to comical proportions.

One figure caught his eye—his own supposed likeness, its form more suggestive than recognizable. His snout was oversized, but that wasn’t what made him pause. No, it was the obscene embellishment beneath, the exaggerated size of its anatomy, proudly displayed as though it were some great achievements.

She gestured toward it with a satisfied grin. “I thought you’d appreciate my attention to detail, Caecillius. See the resemblance?”

Caecillius squirmed under the weight of her gaze, his large green eyes darting helplessly around the canvas, seeking some form of escape. His tail flicked nervously, hooves shuffling as he tried to find the right words. "Er... what exactly am I looking at?"

The struggle in his voice only added to her amusement. Watching him flounder, trying to form an answer that wouldn’t wound her pride, was a sweet kind of torture. She could almost taste the tension, her blood humming with delight as she feigned innocence. "Oh, nothing special, just a depiction of your homeland, Cliaran. Thought you’d appreciate the details."

His nostrils flared as he took another look, trapped beneath her predatory stare. "It's... it's—" He hesitated, the gears visibly turning in his head, each word carefully measured as though it were a diplomatic maneuver. "I, uh, I like the colors. You’re definitely getting better with the brush strokes, I mean, I can actually tell what the figures are this time—"

Korrath’s guttural chuckle echoed through the air as he casually reached for the tea pot, his thick, scaled fingers dwarfing the dainty porcelain. “He’s being nice, but I know what that is. It’s trash. Just like the rest of this fancy get-up.” he muttered, pouring himself a cup, ignoring the withering look Elowen shot him.

Elowen's finger tapped the crude caricature of Caecillius with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “And what about this?” she teased, drawing out each word as though daring him to respond. “Do you think this captures the essence of you?”

Silence fell like a weight on his broad shoulders. He stared at the rough sketch of his own form. She tapped it again, enjoying every twitch of discomfort as the ceullus squirmed under her playful scrutiny.

“Seems right to me.” Korrath let out a low grunt, taking another sip of tea, “Nothing but dick, no brains.”

A nervous chuckle left the ceullus snout as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Your grace,” he began, his voice strained, “it’s certainly... unique. I haven’t seen anything quite like it before.”

A delighted purr left her lips as she scooted closer, resting her hands on his trembling frame. She was a cat toying with her prey, pushing him toward the edge. “You’re not doing me any favors with your politeness, Caecillius. How am I supposed to get better if you won’t tell me the truth?” Her voice was sweet, but the bite beneath it was unmistakable.

Despite her closeness, his resolve seemed unshaken, the ceullus bowing his head respectfully. “You seek to squeeze blood from a stone, my lady. I am no artist, and to my eyes... it looks alright.”

Elowen sighed in mock frustration, realizing she wouldn’t break him so easily. “Oh, Caecillius, cut the shit. I’m fucking with you.” She gave him a playful smack on his well-muscled chest before turning her gaze back to the parchment. “Now tell me the truth before I tear out that pretty little throat of yours.” Her words, sharp as a blade wrapped in silk, dangled between them.

Caecillius swallowed hard, the lump in his throat betraying his nerves, while Korrath’s booming laughter filled the air. His tall ears flicked, and his thick, black tail swished behind him as he hesitated. Finally, with a deep breath, he gestured toward the artwork, trying to muster the courage he knew she was demanding. "I just expected... someone as long-lived as yourself would have a higher skill in art.”

“And?” she prompted with a chuckle, “That’s all you’ve got? You call yourself a ceullus? Come on, really lay into it!”

His green eyes flicked nervously between her and the crude painting. “Just remember, you asked for this," he warned, straightening himself with forced bravado. "Be not angry for what was pulled from my tongue unwillingly."

“For fuck’s sake! Get to it already!”

Caecillius sighed, unable to escape as he gazed down at the artwork, " My lady, this... creation," he began, sweeping a large, powerful hand over the parchment, "is nothing short of a marvel in its own right. It’s as if you've channeled the spirit of a fledgling scribe who just discovered how to hold a quill—and then promptly forgot how to use it! These stick figures—absolute brilliance. Honestly, your attempt at detail—if I can even call it that—feels like a foal's first try at painting. It’s almost as if you’ve captured the chaos of a battlefield, where the combatants have no idea which end of the sword to hold. Truly, this belongs not in a gallery, but perhaps scrawled on the walls of a cave, where its primitive charm might finally be appreciated by the stone itself!"

Korrath, still laughing, slapped the table with a scaled hand, sending a cup rattling. “Now that’s more like it!”

"Tongue as sharp as your sword, Caecillius! I didn’t think you had it in you!" Elowen collapsed onto him playfully, her hands finding their place against his broad chest, the weight of her touch soft yet commanding. "Next time, I expect no mercy."

The Ceullus chuckled nervously, eyes glinting with a mix of relief and caution. "I’ll, uh, keep that in mind for the future."

"Every journey starts with a single flap of the wings, you know." she sighed, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss upon the fur of his chest. "Give me a century, and I’ll be the greatest artist in the world—masterpieces hanging in every palace that dots the globe." With a mischievous glint, she tapped his pink nose, teasing. "For your reluctance, though... I should punish you, you naughty noble horsie."

Caecillius’s ears flicked as his tail swished nervously. “Punish me?” he repeated, trying to hide his apprehension with an awkward smile.

Elowen grinned wickedly; the threat playful but carrying that unmistakable edge she wielded so well. "Oh, don't worry. I’ll think of something fitting."

“I don’t see why you bother; you’ll just grow tired of it like everything else,” Korrath scoffed, grabbing a scone with rough hands from a passing kobold’s tray. “What was it last time? Opera singing in the leonine tongue?”

“I still remember those nights.” Stuttered Caecillius, “The sound of shattering glass had more rhythm.”

Korrath chuckled, spitting out crumbs. “At least it was better than her attempt at horseback riding. Poor thing never stood a chance.”

“How long did she last before she ate it, two hours?” Caecillius asked, trying to hide his amusement.

“More like one.” Korrath grinned, meeting Elowen’s sharp gaze with a challenge of his own.

“I do believe that’s enough.” Elowen laughed sharply, laying her nails upon the table, It’s swiftly going from enjoyable to distasteful. “Continue at your own peril and risk a golden paw-”

“We were just having good fun, apologies.” Caecillus’ ears clung to his neck as he instantly bowed his head.

“Eh, pick up your head, horse boy,” Korrath snorted, chuckling as he met her eye. “She’d be bored without us around.” A gleam of mischief caught his eye as he leaned closer. “Isn’t that right, Linneth?”

Never had the mere mention of her own name filled her with such disdain. Linneth’s groan was a low rumble of frustration, heavy with regret. This was the consequence of granting them the familiarity of her name—nothing but taunts, teasing, and relentless jabs at her vanity. “I loathe the both of you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.” Caecillius responded with a playful knicker, drawing her close to nibble affectionately at her hair.

“This is what I get.” Linneth replied with a weary resignation, leaning into his touch. “Seems my dearest sister was correct yet again, she tried to warn me, but no, I had to go and get attached to my toys.”

"Are you not the one always calling her a green-scaled bitch?" Korrath leaned forward, a wicked grin splitting his crimson snout. "A glorified ornament for your father to dote on, with all the depth and substance of a puddle. Yes, the Emerald Lady—beloved, radiant, and as hollow as the praises she bathes in."

“Careful now, you two.” Linneth joined in their laughter, imagining Ossai—known to them as the Emerald Lady—growling, her fury palpable if she'd heard their insults. The thought of her snarling face only added to the delight. "I may have prestige, but I’m not sure even that could protect you from her wrath if word of this reached her ears. After all, she’s always watching."

Their private merriment, warm and contained within their little alcove, was abruptly swept away on the sudden flutter of wings. The keening cry of a great host cut through the laughter like a blade, bringing with it a storm of feathers, steel, and flesh crashing down upon the party. The once peaceful earth trembled under their assault, as shouts of alarm echoed into the air. Gryphon squawks intermingled with the terrible hum of energy crossbows, forming a deadly, discordant choir.

Soldiers bearing the symbol of Lumara readied themselves, a fierce array of weapons clutched in taloned hands—gleaming metal-lined gauntlets, formidable spears, and the menacing energy crossbows that hummed with deadly intent. Every gaze was steely, radiating confidence and purpose. But Linneth only chuckled into her cup, bemused by their arrogance. As spells crackled in the air and guests were corralled at weapon point, she calmly placed her cup on the table, the very picture of serenity.

"It seems my guests have finally arrived." she mused, her voice light, unbothered by the chaos.

“Mistress?” Caecillius shot to his hooves, hands instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword, tension coursing through his frame.

“Settle down, Caecillius. And you, Korrath—put your talons to rest.” Linneth dusted off her attire, standing with quiet confidence as her eyes flicked across the scene, taking in the soldiers barking orders, forcing the panicked partygoers into submission. A smirk played at her lips when she spotted the leader emerging from the throng—the inquisitor Suntail.

The gryphon strode forward, full of fire and pride, her feathers ruffling in barely contained fury. An honor guard flanked her, muscular gryphons and towering minotaurs moving with military precision. Linneth greeted them with a graceful, teasing bow, unbothered by the scathing looks they shot her.

“Whatever scheme you have here is at an end, Elowen.” Suntail declared, her feathers ruffling.

“Twelve.”

Suntail's beak curled into a smirk as she continued, "You may have thought yourself clever, operating for so long without the claws of justice falling upon you. Truth is, you were always under my suspicion."

Linneth let out a weary sigh. "Six."

One brow rose as Suntail gestured for the humans coming to her side to bring forth a pair of onyx manacles. "I'm sorry, am I missing something?"

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," Linneth quipped, gesturing toward her snickering companions. "It’s just that I’ve heard these heroic speeches so wearily often, I decided to keep track of how many times I’ve heard certain lines."

The inquisitor’s tail lashed with irritation, her ears flattening slightly. "You can’t be serious. You’re insane."

"Twenty-four." Linneth's eyes flickered toward the table. "Now, could you be a dear and join us? We were just having afternoon tea." She frowned slightly, padding around the table, drawing out each step with languid grace. "Shame you brought so many friends, though. We haven’t enough room for everyone."

What composure she possessed was recovered with a flick of the inquisitor’s tail. She wasn’t going to be played. "Apprehend her," she commanded, gesturing sharply to her soldiers. "We’re not here for games. You’re going to answer for your crimes.

"Thirty-seven." Linneth giggled into her teacup. "But if that were true, why did you bother poor Skywing? Locked him up for a crime he didn’t even commit!" She clicked her tongue in mock sympathy.

A human in plate armor, accompanied by a sleek gryphon, approached with the manacles in hand. Linneth sighed, realizing that what game she wanted wouldn’t come to pass. "Couldn’t you wait until after we finished our tea to get on with this arresting business?"

Weapons were kept trained as the soldiers bellowed orders for the guests to keep their distance. "In the name of Lumara and her people, Elowen, you’re under arrest.” Suntail declared with pride, “You’ll be brought in, interrogated, and dealt with."

"Oh, heavens me!" Linneth wailed, feigning dramatic distress as a human guard grabbed her wrist. She leaned into him, her voice trembling with exaggerated fear. "Whatever have I done?"

"Drop the act, girl." Suntail snapped, clacking her beak, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You're not fooling anyone with this charade."

Linneth let out an audible groan, rolling her eyes as the manacles clacked shut around her wrists. "You say you won't be fooled, and yet..." Her tone dropped to a purr. "You fail to see when you’ve been so thoroughly wrapped in a web."

With a single motion, the enchanted restraints snapped like brittle twigs, the metal fragments clattering to the floor. Silence fell over the inquisitor’s minions, their expressions a blend of confusion and disbelief. Linneth rubbed her wrists, a delighted grin playing at her lips. "Oh my, it got all quiet. And really, those manacles were far too tight."

"That would defeat the point," Korrath chuckled, cracking his neck, “Suppose things are going to get fun?”

“I didn’t ask your opinion.”

Suntail huffed, unfazed by the spectacle. "A simple enchantment. We’ve seen this before." She lowered herself onto her haunches, talons slashing through the air as she chanted an incantation.

The moment the spell released; the threads of magic coiled around Linneth began to unravel. She sighed, feeling the cold tendrils crawl down her skin like tiny fingers. In an instant, her focus shattered, and with it, the illusion she had carefully woven over time. Lavender smoke poured from her like steam from a boiling pot, swirling around her in thick, curling plumes. The air grew heavy with the scent of flowers and something more sinister, cloaking her in an insidious mist.

To the heavens, Linneth laughed, her voice deepening into something terrible as her bones churned and cracked. Great feathery wings burst from her back, tearing through her delicate dress as golden scales rippled across her body. A colossal tail shot forth, shredding what remained of her attire. With every squawk and shout of alarm from the Lumarians, her limbs twisted and expanded, flesh bubbling like boiling soup. Her neck stretched longer, talons grew from her fingers, her entire form was encasing in gleaming gold.

Her face elongated into a fearsome snout, whiskers extending, and with a mighty flap of her newly sprouted wings, she banished the lavender fog.

Before her stood the Lumarians, now mere specks beneath her towering form. She loomed over them, a monstrous dragoness, golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. Her powerful onyx horns cast shadows in the sunlight, and smoke curled lazily from her nostrils, a promise of fiery destruction.

The confidence of Suntail’s forces drained away, twisted into terror as they beheld the full might of Linneth’s transformation. The ground trembled with her rumbling approval, her serpentine tail coiling with menace.

“Soldiers of Lumara you gaze upon the Blazing Sun.” She announced her title with pride, “Herald of the coming Dawn, Harbinger of the Emperor of Dragon Kind. Look upon me and know despair.” Her toothy grin dripped with venom as she surveyed the gathered host, focusing her predatory gaze upon the inquisitor. "You thought yourself a mighty captain, Suntail. A valiant guide through a tumultuous sea. But in truth, you were nothing more than a puppet, unaware of the strings that bound you. Unable to resist when your better plucked them—"

"Don't listen to this drivel!" Suntail shrieked, her talons glowing with a fierce emerald light. "Shoot her!"

The Lumarians quivered, their confidence shattered beneath the terrible weight of Linneth’s gaze. Her rumbling approval vibrated through the ground, forcing their grips to tighten upon trembling weapons as her tail coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Why must they always choose the hard way? she thought with a flick of her paw, her scales shimmering with sapphire light.

Bolts of energy loosed by the gryphons collided with her shield, breaking harmlessly as though striking the unyielding face of a mountain. Linneth knew their weakness—knew that for all their bravado, they were no match for her. Some among them, desperate and foolish, unleashed magical attacks of their own. Statues surrounding her suddenly stirred to life, charging at her with animated fury.

With a single, mighty sweep of her tail, the statues crumbled into dust, and the gathered host was sent sprawling across the stone courtyard. Those who could withstand the force clung to one another, steadying themselves against the wind. Linneth’s jaw creaked open, her throat swelling, before she unleashed a roaring ball of white-hot flame that sped toward them with deadly intent.

But before the fiery blast could consume them, Suntail intercepted it with her talons, wings spread wide and feathers bristling with intense focus. The Inquisitor’s powerful limbs shook under the strain as she chanted, halting the ball of flame mid-air before redirecting it far into the sky. It detonated harmlessly, casting a dazzling array of colors across the heavens.

Linneth's eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Oooo, not many casters can stop my magical fire.” she purred, amusement dripping from her voice at such an entertaining plaything. Her next step sent ripples of panic through the remaining Lumarians, as they realized the magnitude of the threat before them.

"And that expression on your beak?" Linneth continued, her voice now low and dangerous. “Positively adorable. I think I want you.”

The Lumarian soldiers fanned out, taking shelter behind statues, trees, and anything that might offer a semblance of protection as they prepared for another round of battle. Suntail, undeterred, flared her tail feathers, her beak set in grim determination. At her command, shimmering shards of diamond materialized at the tips of her wings, gleaming in the afternoon light. “By Satren’s light, be gone! ”

“I do believe I’ve humored you enough.” Linneth sighed with a great shrug of her great wings. With a bringing down of a crackling paw, she summoned forth a wall of steel to blunt their meager display. The dragoness’ grin widened; her trap was not yet complete. “But I’ll leave you with a thought, Suntail,” Linneth continued, her tone lilting with mockery. “Consider joining us for tea—after all, it’s quite the gathering.” Her eyes gleamed, a promise of something far more sinister. “For now, though, I’ll leave you in the capable claws of my kin.”

As if on cue, the atmosphere shifted. The guests, moments earlier cowering in terror, began to change. Their fearful expressions twisted into knowing smirks, sneers of triumph spreading across their faces. Lavender smoke billowed from their forms, thick and unnatural, curling around them like creeping vines.

Panic shot through the ranks of the Lumarian soldiers. Shouts of alarm spread like wildfire, as one by one, the guests revealed their true nature. Dragons—magnificent and terrible—emerged from the smoke, each one larger and more imposing than the last. Scales in hues of emerald, sapphire, crimson, and gold glittered in the sunlight as their mighty forms towered over the battlefield.

“That was rather cruel, wasn’t it?” Caecillius mused, watching the chaos unfold. “Letting them believe they stood a chance?”

A sharp chortle answered, Linneth striding with deliberate care toward her overturned table. Korrath, ever diligent, had begun resetting it. Unfortunately, her excitement and transformation had shattered every pot and cup. A low hiss escaped as her claws dragged across the stone. A price, it seemed, for indulging in a bit of fun.

“How long do you think they’ll manage?” Caecillius inquired, ears perked toward the cacophony of screams.

“Three minutes, at most,” Korrath grunted, irritation crossing his brow as the violence echoed closer. “Figures we’re stuck playing tea party while real fun’s being had.”

“And let you two risk yourselves in a moment of my triumph? Please. The others can have their fun—your delight is to enjoy my company.” Settling onto her belly, Linneth raised a massive paw, whispering words of power. Magic surged through her veins as the shards of ruined pot lifted delicately into the air. One by one, piecing themselves back together in flashes of bright white light.

“Look at you, getting your claws dirty.” Korrath’s growl carried a smirk, eyes fixed on her handiwork. “Almost perfect. Except for that crack.”

“Character,” Linneth huffed, a plume of black smoke swirling around the defiant reptile. “It’s a scar from its battle with the ground.”

As her spell reassembled the teacups, a groan escaped—no magic would fix the spilled tea. Meanwhile, the symphony of slaughter played in the background, each note a masterpiece of desperation. Feathers and flesh burned, froze, or melted in waves of acid. Armor was shredded under the weight of draconic claws, and what little defense spells were cast quickly crumbled under the sheer might of their enemies.

One by one, Lumarians fell—bloodied, torn, their efforts nothing more than a futile resistance against the strength of dragonkind. Amidst it all, Linneth flicked her tail lazily, conjuring fire, water, a pot and slender green leaves to brew fresh tea.

“Why not simply conjure up some more, like you did with everything else?” Caecillius asked innocently enough.

A soft growl escaped Linneth’s throat. “Summoned tea lacks the soul of a true brew,” She gave him a snort, “You can’t summon the essence of the leaves, or the patience required to let it steep properly.”

“How could it be any different?” He asked, as Korrath fidgeted in his chair, the desire for spilling blood almost too much to contain.

The ceullus’ brow rose as she snapped her jaws, “Are you fucking with me again?”

“I never joke about tea.”

As the tea brewed, the last remnants of resistance in the garden were extinguished. Lumarians were swiftly overwhelmed, their brave but futile defenses crushed under dragon talons and fiery breath. The battlefield became a scene of carnage, with Suntail desperately trying to protect her dwindling forces.

“Must we listen to such misery?” Caecillius asked as the dragoness focused on her tea. “It reminds me of Corvania, the house of the sun.”

“The home of the Leonin?” Korrath scoffed. “Pitiful warriors. Why didn’t you let me bathe in their entrails?”

“You can’t bathe in the entrails of every species that visits us—”

“Just watch me.”

Linneth sighed, tuning out the distant cries of the battlefield. However, seeing Caecillius’ disheartened expression, she muttered a spell to muffle the sounds of the slaughter, replacing them with a muted hum.

“You have my thanks,” Caecillius said, bowing his head. “Though they are quite resilient, aren’t they?”

“Despite their weaknesses, they’ve proven formidable.” Linneth admitted, as she poured the tea into their cups.

“A toast then,” Caecillius said, raising his cup. “To you, our great mistress, most favored of the Emperor’s children, the herald of a new age.”

It tickled her heart to see such amazement in his gaze, glancing upon a goddess in the flesh.

“May you and the golden claws find success in taming of this world, bringing the stability and order that it so desperately needs.”

“Though I look forward to a bit of a resistance.” Korrath grumbled, “It’s never fun when they all expose their bellies.”

“Oh, rest assured,” Linneth replied sweetly, her gaze sharp and calculating, “I’m certain there will be ample opportunities for you to indulge your bloodlust.”

For a time, they laughed and enjoyed one another’s company, oblivious to the rampage happening around them. Others might question her attitude and closeness to these lesser creatures in her hoard, but they were ever kept in line by a well-placed snarl and reminder of who she was. Daughter of the Emperor of dragon kind, sister to Emerald Lady, the golden herald of the coming age. Those that did not bend the knee would gaze upon her scales and be overcome with despair.

Their conversation about Caecillius’ encounter with a drunken Ceullus was interrupted by the arrival of a new guest. A red dragon with tan horns approached, lowering her snout in deference. She presented Suntail, bloodied and disheveled, who was shoved to the table.

“Here she is, a bit shaken but alive.” Said the victorious red, bowing her scaled snout. A push of the paw brought Suntail to the table.

The inquisitor was slathered in blood, copious amounts that were not entirely her own. What feathers still clung to her were tattered or singed, numerous states of disarray. She was panting, eyes wide, terror clinging to her like a cloak. One wing was bent at a strange angle, while her forepaws were sliced open and oozing blood.

“Nice of you to join us, dearest,” Linneth greeted her with a devious grin. “I always knew you would see reason.” With a flick of her paw, she summoned a gryphon-sized teacup and began to pour. “It’s a shame about your friends; I suppose they found it all a bit too rough.” Her eyes flickered with dark amusement as she regarded the field of carnage beyond.

“You... You monster,” Suntail spat, her voice quaking. “Go to the hells.”

“Three hundred,” Linneth replied, gently pressing her paw against the gryphon’s beak. “I’d suggest you choose your words carefully, dear catbird. A path will soon be laid before you, and it would be a shame to be torn apart or set aflame before it even appears.” She nodded to the crimson dragoness with satisfaction. “You’re free to leave, Freedombringer. We’ll discuss your reward later.”

“As you wish, my lady.” the dragoness responded, her departure marked by a melodious warble.

No doubt it would come in various favors, treasures or promises. Linneth rolled her eyes, while things should rightfully be hers, it never hurt to win the loyalty of those under one’s command. “Now back to you my absolutely terrified kitten.” She gestured to Caecillius with a snort, “Tend to the woman, I’d rather not have her bleeding all over my table.”

“W…why do I still draw breath?” Suntail squawked indignantly, as the ceullus came to her side, his hands glowing white. “Kill me and be done with it.”

“Hold still or it might hurt.” Caecillius instructed firmly, drawing an amulet from his pocket emblazoned with Thor’s hammer. As he touched it to her wounds, they sealed, and her lost blood was restored.

Suntail stared at her healed wounds, opening and closing her talons in disbelief.

“I do hope that speaks for itself,” Linneth said, rising to loom over the now trembling gryphon. “I’d prefer you stay alive, here with us, to enjoy this wonderful day.”

“Why kill my soldiers?” Suntail asked, shaking her head.

“Oh, I didn’t kill them, nor did my kin,” Linneth’s eyes gleamed cruelly. “You did that by bringing them here. But let’s set aside your righteous crusade for now, though it’s endearing that you spent so long hunting me.” She tapped her chest with a playful smirk. “Here’s your reward, dear. Some might even say the only real choice you’ve ever had in your pitiful existence.”

“Is that right? Lucky me.” Suntail replied with a skeptical eye, unwilling to give in.

“You have no idea,” Linneth growled, miming the act of plucking an apple from the air. “How fortunate you are to find your fate in my capable paws. If it were up to my sister, the Emerald Lady, your life would be cut short without hesitation.” She rolled her paw to her chest, her smile widening. “But, as I am merciful and benevolent, I have a far better use for you.”

“You slaughter all my soldiers and expect me to join you? Why would I do that?” Suntail retorted, her voice defiant.

“I’m so glad that you asked.” Linneth rumbled, curling herself around the inquisitor, making herself a grand golden fortress with no escape. “Not only do I offer my power and protection to yourself; but a chance to better your kingdom. Now I know you see it as yours, adorable, but it was never destined to be. Those rolling hills, the towering mountains, the endless forests of wonder. Your people deserve them to be safe, secure, to prosper evermore.” She waggled her paw, “Just under our rulership.”

“Taking us over- “

“Think of it like tending a flock,” Linneth interrupted, her tone cutting through the gryphon’s doubts. “We will expand this kingdom far and wide under my father’s, the Emperor of dragon kind’s leadership, ensuring peace and prosperity for all under his wings. You should feel honored that your kingdom will be the beginning of this grand vision, shaped in his image.”

Suntail’s expression darkened as Linneth explained their subservience, bowing their heads and wings to their new draconic masters. It would no longer be the kingdom that she loved, but whatever this new emperor deemed fit. “And what happens to us, should we bend the knee?”

“This kingdom,” Linneth sighed, her eyes closing as if to savor the beauty of the future, “will become a shining gem, an example of perfection that will inspire awe and weeping admiration. Songs will celebrate its prosperity, enshrined in history forever. You will wield power over your kin as you do now, but instead of serving a flawed human or gryphon royal, you’ll serve the son of a goddess.”

“Your father is a son of a goddess?” Suntail scoffed, disbelief clear in her voice.

“Bahamut herself.” Linneth grinned.

The inquisitor’s resolve weathered away before her eyes, yielding to her will. It didn’t break completely, she wasn’t a full servant yet, but certainly the message had taken hold. “Why not have the offer for my soldiers? Why leave me alone?”

“Nothing personal,” Linneth said, her form shifting back to elven as lavender smoke swirled around her. “Your determination and connections within the empire impressed me. They will facilitate a smoother transition in the coming days.” She dusted off her attire and took a seat, a satisfied grin on her lips. “The others?” She shrugged. “Too many loose threads dropped in my paws at once.”

Suntail, her beak closed tightly, glanced between the distant horizon and the dragoness. Her resistance had crumbled to nearly nothing; she was a tower on the verge of collapse. “And... what if I refuse?”

“Oh, I think I’ve made that quite clear.” Linneth giggled, lifting her cup of tea and letting the steam curl around her.

The inquisitor gulped, bowed her head, seeing there was no other choice. Agree or perish. “I guess the smart thing would be to bend the knee and do what I must, for my people, my kingdom, and this Emperor.”

Linneth’s smile couldn’t be wider, oh how she enjoyed an utter victory.