Silver stepped out of the Egg Tree quietly enough that no one inside noticed.
The great roots of the tree curved outward into the open air like the ribs of some ancient creature, forming natural balconies that overlooked the city of Clawdiff. He walked along one of them now, boots scraping softly against bark hardened like polished stone.
Morning light spilled across the skyline.
The stadium stood in the distance.
Even from here he could see the shattered sections of the arena roof where the Minotaur had nearly killed them. The floodwaters had long since drained away, but the damage remained—steel ribs twisted outward, scorch marks crawling up the walls like black veins.
Silver stopped for a moment.
His tail shifted uneasily behind him.
For a brief second he could almost feel the Minotaur’s grip again—those massive fingers closing around his throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
The memory made his jaw tighten.
He forced himself to look away.
Beyond the stadium, the enormous glass dome that protected Clawdiff curved across the sky like a second horizon. Sunlight glittered faintly along its surface where repair drones already crawled across the structure.
Below the Egg Tree, the parklands had become a refugee camp.
Hundreds of survivors had gathered there overnight.
Campfires burned in small circles across the grass, their smoke drifting lazily upward through the autumn leaves of the Egg Tree. Families huddled together beneath blankets and salvaged tarps. Soldiers and civilians shared whatever food they had managed to carry out of the arena.
Everyone looked exhausted.
Covered in dirt.
Clothing torn from the escape.
Some of them bore the features that marked hybrids clearly—horns, wings, tails, scales.
Others looked almost indistinguishable from purebloods.
Children slept curled against their parents.
A group of older refugees sat near a fire passing around a single loaf of bread like it was treasure.
Silver watched them in silence.
He tried to feel something.
Pity.
Sympathy.
Anything.
Instead—
All he could think was:
This is the same group I am part of.
The same species.
The same people.
And look how weak they are.
He exhaled slowly.
The thought irritated him more than it should have.
If hybrids were to survive in this world, they could not remain like this—frightened, scrambling for scraps beneath trees.
They needed structure.
Strength.
Leadership.
Silver’s eyes lifted back toward the Egg Tree behind him.
Toward the noisy chaos inside where Celeste currently ruled over the Knights like some cheerful storm of optimism and improvised heroics.
He sighed.
Then raised his Arcbracer.
If he could take control of the Knights piece by piece—
Guide them.
Refine them.
Turn them into something stronger—
Then perhaps hybrids might finally rise above this.
And perhaps—
He might do it better than Celeste.
The Arcbracer chimed softly.
The channel connected.
Lady Umbranox.
Her face appeared almost immediately.
“Yes?”
Silver spoke sharply.
“Why do you insist on receiving reports from Celeste instead of me?”
Umbranox’s expression didn’t change.
“Because she is the Knight Commander.”
Silver frowned.
“I could deliver them far more efficiently.”
Umbranox shook her head slightly.
“That is not the point.”
Silver’s voice hardened.
“She is a bumbling girl who can barely string together a thought—let alone a report. I can do it faster.”
Umbranox’s eyes narrowed.
“Silver.”
“She has to learn.”
“You are hindering her.”
Silver scoffed.
“For her own good.”
“For the good of hybrids,” Umbranox finished calmly.
Silver straightened.
“I thought you wanted me to lift hybrids up.”
“I do.”
“But you are not seeing the greater picture.”
She leaned slightly closer to the screen.
“We need hybrids in key positions of power.”
“Not just you.”
Silver went still.
Then laughed bitterly.
“So everything I suffered through was pointless?”
His voice dripped sarcasm.
“Lady Clumsy-a-lot is now crucial to the future of hybrid politics and I’m yesterday’s news.”
“Good to know.”
Umbranox’s patience snapped slightly.
“Stop being childish.”
Silver’s jaw tightened.
He gave a stiff, mocking nod.
“Have a pleasant day, Mother.”
He cut the connection before she could answer.
The Arcbracer went dark.
Silver stood there for a moment staring out across the city.
Angry.
Frustrated.
And more uncertain than he wanted to admit.
A set of footsteps hurried along the lower root walkway.
Silver turned.
A young Hybrid courier was climbing toward him, breathless, clutching a sealed package beneath one arm. He looked no older than sixteen, with small antlers poking through his cap and a messenger satchel bouncing against his hip.
“Lord Arcturus?” the boy asked quickly.
Silver’s posture shifted at once.
Controlled again.
“Yes?”
The courier thrust the package forward with both hands.
“Delivery for you, sir. From Lord Whytemere.”
Silver’s eyes sharpened.
“Lysander?”
“Yes, sir.”
The courier looked nervous, as though delivering parcels to nobles ranked somewhere between unpleasant and potentially fatal.
Silver accepted the package.
Then paused.
The boy was already stepping back, ready to flee before anyone could decide he had somehow done something wrong.
Silver reached into his coat and pressed a few coins into the courier’s palm.
The boy froze.
His eyes widened.
“For the delivery,” Silver said.
The courier stared at the money like it had appeared by magic.
Then he bowed so quickly he nearly dropped his satchel.
“Thank you, my lord.”
He ran off down the root walkway, antlers bobbing, looking more grateful than Silver thought a tip deserved.
Silver watched him go for a moment.
Then looked down at the package.
The seal was Whytemere black wax.
Perfectly stamped.
Perfectly smug.
Silver broke it with his thumb.
Inside was a slim leather folio, old but carefully preserved. Dragons had been embossed across the cover in faint gold—wings spread, jaws open, tails curling around unfamiliar glyphs.
Silver opened it.
His eyes moved quickly across the pages.
Draconic language.
Dragon types.
Bloodline customs.
Sacred rites.
Formal greetings.
Embassy protocols.
Old ritual structures.
He turned another page.
Then another.
A slow smile touched his mouth.
Perfect.
Tucked between the pages was a folded note.
Lysander’s handwriting was precise enough to look printed.
I hope this helps.
I looked through every ritual reference I could find. Most were useless theatre, but I found the one the dragon embassy used on you in the Council Hall.
Do try not to embarrass yourself.
Silver huffed softly.
Almost a laugh.
“Charming as ever.”
He folded the message neatly and slipped it back into the folio.
Then he tucked the whole thing inside his coat.
Close to his chest.
His expression settled into something thoughtful.
Calculating.
Dangerously pleased.
When Silver stepped back into the base.
The noise hit him immediately.
Ray arguing with Mezzo again.
Chip lecturing Arcade about circuit efficiency.
Topsy loudly finishing the last of the potato salad.
Bonbon giggling somewhere under the table.
And in the middle of it all—
Celeste.
The team had gathered around her like a flock of excited birds.
Ray leaned over the table first.
“So what do we do now?”
Mezzo pointed at the report she’d been working on.
“Yeah, boss. What’s the next adventure?”
Skye bounced slightly on his heels.
“Should I start scouting new cards?”
Pitch leaned against the pillar casually.
“Or are we finally going to hunt down the Minotaur?”
Celeste blinked at them.
Then laughed nervously.
“Okay—okay—one at a time.”
She rubbed the back of her neck.
“I’m glad everyone’s excited but…”
She looked around at them.
“…this is a lot.”
Ray grinned.
“Welcome to command.”
Celeste sighed dramatically.
“I think I might have underestimated the chaos part.”
Hughes stepped forward, more serious.
“We also need to address the refugee situation.”
Celeste’s smile faded slightly.
“Right.”
Hughes folded his arms.
“It’s getting out of hand.”
“More hybrids are arriving every hour.”
Celeste nodded slowly.
“We’ll deal with that later today.”
She looked around the table again.
“First—the investigation.”
Arcade perked up instantly.
“Finally.”
Celeste tapped the datapad.
“The council has given us access to information connected to the outbreak.”
“Sweettooth.”
“Zygurr.”
“Godiad.”
“And something called Project Tempest.”
The room grew more focused.
Celeste thought aloud.
“We could split into teams and follow multiple leads at once.”
She hesitated.
“Or…”
“…we tackle them one at a time as a group.”
She shrugged.
“Maybe that’s too obvious?”
Immediately everyone started talking.
Ray pointed at herself.
“I say we split up.”
Mezzo nodded.
“More ground covered.”
Arcade raised a finger.
“But if the tech is complicated you’ll want me there.”
Skye added timidly—
“We could send scouts first?”
Pitch shrugged.
“Or bait the Minotaur again.”
Topsy raised her spoon dramatically.
“We should obviously form themed teams.”
No one asked what that meant.
Celeste laughed again.
“Okay—okay—slow down.”
She started writing their ideas down.
Across the room—
Silver stood in the doorway.
Watching.
Not speaking.
Just observing.
Celeste juggling suggestions.
Hughes quietly keeping the discussion organized.
Ray arguing loudly.
Arcade already planning.
Skye cautiously offering ideas.
The team following Celeste without hesitation.
Silver watched her for another moment.
Then he stepped into the middle of the noise.
“Commander.”
The room quieted a little.
Not completely—Ray was still muttering something to Mezzo—but the shift in Silver’s voice carried enough authority that several people looked up.
Celeste glanced up from her datapad.
“Yes?”
Silver moved closer.
She was still half-focused on the noble screaming through the Arcbracer.
Silver reached out—
And tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
The moment his fingers made contact—
Both of them froze.
A sudden shimmer rippled across their skin.
Silver’s scales flared along the side of his neck and arms—thin gold plates flashing into existence before fading again.
At the exact same moment—
A line of faint iridescent scales erupted along Celeste’s collarbone and down her arm.
For a heartbeat the air between them hummed with something strange.
Warm.
Electric.
Then it vanished.
Both of them jerked slightly apart.
Celeste blinked.
Silver blinked.
Across the room—
Mezzo’s nose twitched.
“…That was weird.”
Ray looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Mezzo said quickly, though he kept staring at the two of them.
Silver cleared his throat.
Celeste rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
They both looked mildly bothered.
And slightly embarrassed.
Their eyes met.
Then immediately looked away again.
Silver straightened his posture.
“Commander.”
Celeste adjusted her datapad, suddenly very interested in the screen.
“Yes?”
Silver folded his arms.
“I need a word.”
Topsy immediately whispered loudly to Ray.
“Uh oh.”
Mezzo leaned back in his chair.
“Ooooh this sounds serious.”
Silver didn’t smile.
Didn’t smirk.
Didn’t respond.
Just waited.
Celeste slowly stood.
“Alright.”
She walked past him toward the hallway.
Silver followed.
The door slid shut behind them.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Silver turned sharply.
“You embarrassed me.”
Celeste blinked.
“…I did?”
“In front of my mother. In front of the council.”
Celeste immediately straightened.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”
Silver raised a hand.
“That wasn’t the worst part.”
His tone softened suddenly.
Dangerously calm.
“What’s bothering me…”
He stepped a little closer.
“…is what happens whenever you’re near.”
Celeste frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Silver rubbed the back of his neck, clearly irritated.
“My scales.”
Celeste tilted her head.
“…your scales?”
“They react.”
He sighed through his nose.
“And I don’t like things reacting without my permission.”
Celeste hesitated.
Then quietly admitted—
“…sometimes when you’re close something similar happens to me.”
Silver’s brows lifted.
“Wonderful.”
He crossed his arms again.
“Then you should stop trying to be too much too quickly.”
Celeste frowned slightly.
“What?”
“You’re pushing yourself.”
“Trying to prove things.”
Silver paced once.
“People will not respond kindly if you keep pushing like that.”
Celeste crossed her arms now too.
“I’m just trying to do my best.”
Silver stopped walking.
“And the High Dragon claim.”
Celeste’s eyes instantly went dull.
Like a switch had flipped.
Silver continued.
“You need to stop saying that.”
“You are not a High Dragon.”
Celeste looked… bored.
Completely checked out.
“…why does that bother you so much?”
Silver opened his mouth.
For a moment—
Something real almost came out.
Something honest.
But he caught himself.
His expression shifted.
Cool again.
Controlled.
“It bothers me because lying makes you look unprofessional.”
Celeste stared at him for a second.
Then shrugged.
“I’m not lying.”
She turned toward the door.
“But it clearly doesn’t matter.”
She reached for the handle.
Silver stepped forward.
And shut the door before she could open it.
Celeste turned slowly.
Not amused now.
Silver smiled.
Not cruel.
But mischievous.
“I have a little test.”
Celeste sighed.
“…I’m really not liking the sound of this.”
Silver flicked open his arc-bracer.
A projection appeared between them.
Runes.
Old draconic glyphs.
“You will.”
He glanced at the projection.
Then back at her.
“If you’ll humor me.”
Celeste folded her arms again.
“…what kind of test?”
Silver’s turquoise eyes gleamed.
“You’ll see.”
