They walked through the winding interior of the Egg Tree, the noise of the base fading slowly behind them as they moved deeper into the older parts of the structure. The corridors grew quieter here, the wooden floors creaking softly beneath their boots.
Eventually they reached the library.
The room had once been a empty mint chocolate hall when the Egg Tree had first been converted into a base. Now it looked more like a recovery ward for wounded books.
Shelves had been reinforced with metal brackets. Tables were crowded with stacks of salvaged tomes, many still bearing scorch marks, water stains, or patches where candy residue had been carefully scraped away.
When the zombie outbreaks had begun spreading through Clawdiff, many of the city’s libraries had been cleared in a hurry. Books had been moved here—anything old, magical, or culturally important—so the infected wouldn’t destroy them.
To preserve them, someone had treated the room with a light mana seal that released a faint mint scent into the air.
It kept rot, mold, and candy corruption from spreading.
The entire room smelled like a sweet herbal winter.
Silver walked toward the center of the room.
Celeste followed quietly.
Then he reached back and took her hand.
The gesture surprised her.
His glove brushed against her fingers as he guided her toward the center table.
Despite the leather, his hand was warm.
Warmer than she expected.
Celeste felt her chest tighten slightly.
Maybe—just maybe—he might finally believe her.
Maybe this conversation would end the strange tension between them.
Maybe—
This could all be over soon.
Silver stopped beneath one of the hanging lanterns.
Then he released her hand.
From inside his coat, he withdrew the leather folio Lysander had sent him.
The cover was embossed with dragons in faded gold—wings spread, tails curling around old draconic glyphs. Several coloured ribbons marked specific pages, and Lysander’s neat handwriting covered little slips of paper tucked between the leaves.
Silver opened it carefully.
Almost reverently.
Then activated his arcbracer.
The projection shimmered above the book, pulling the ancient glyphs from the page and turning them slowly in the air.
Silver’s smile widened slightly as the runes shifted.
Celeste immediately recognised them.
Old draconic.
Very old.
The kind dragons only used in ritual challenges.
Silver glanced down at the marked page.
Then back at her.
“You misunderstand. I’m not trying to embarrass you.”
He leaned back against the table behind him, one hand resting lightly on the open book while the runes continued to spin.
“You see, there are many forms of dragon.”
Celeste hesitated.
Silver began pacing slowly across the library floor, speaking like a lecturer who had rehearsed this speech many times.
“Wyverns.”
“Drakes.”
“Elemental dragons.”
“Spirit dragons.”
“Nature dragons.”
He gestured lightly as he spoke.
“Some share traits with pegasi. Others resemble wolves or hounds. A few even carry unicorn features depending on their mana lineage.”
He gave a small shrug.
“Dragons are… flexible creatures.”
Celeste watched him quietly.
“But all of them,” Silver continued, “are ranked beneath the Alpha dragons.”
His voice carried quiet certainty now.
“Above even them, long ago, were the High Dragons.”
He raised a hand, holding up five fingers.
“Five clans of them.”
Celeste blinked.
“They ruled the dragons of the world.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“…What happened to them?”
Silver’s expression didn’t change.
“Dead.”
The word fell flat and simple.
“Killed during the Mana Wars.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward the library shelves.
“Or in hiding, depending on which histories you believe.”
Celeste looked uneasy.
“To claim to be one…”
Silver’s gaze sharpened.
“…is a rather enormous insult to the entire draconic order.”
Celeste blinked.
“Oh.”
Then realization dawned.
“Oh.”
She nodded slowly.
“That’s why it bothers you.”
Silver gave a small sigh.
“In the towers of Arcturus Castle,” he said, “I found several books on the subject.”
His tone softened slightly.
“I was curious about my heritage.”
He looked back toward her.
“Today, only Alpha dragons remain.”
He spread his arms slightly.
“And I happen to be one.”
Celeste nodded politely.
Silver continued.
“Of all the hybrids in Clawdiff, I was hoping to prove something.”
His voice lowered thoughtfully.
“That a hybrid could serve as Patron of Sight.”
“That strength and reason could exist together.”
“That I could bridge the gap between mythics and purebloods.”
He smiled faintly.
“So you can understand how… awkward it would be…”
His eyes flicked toward her.
“…if a common hybrid girl suddenly outranked me.”
Celeste nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Silver continued calmly.
“The Alicorn claim, I found ridiculous.”
He waved a hand dismissively.
“But I allowed it to pass.”
Celeste raised both hands quickly.
“Look, I won’t mention it again.”
She shook her head.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“It’s fine, I promise.”
Silver shook his head.
“No.”
His voice softened slightly.
“This settles the matter for both of us.”
He gestured toward the glowing runes.
“For you, it will simply prove what I suspect.”
He tilted his head.
“You are likely a very high-ranking dragon.”
“Perhaps even a fae dragon.”
His tone grew almost complimentary.
“They are rare.”
“Beautiful creatures.”
Then he gave a small sigh.
“I simply don’t want you being called out by the council someday.”
“That would be… unpleasant.”
Celeste looked down at the floor.
Silver stepped closer.
When she looked up again, his expression had softened.
“I promise,” he said quietly, “I am trying to help you.”
“You should let me.”
Celeste looked worried.
Silver stepped closer.
Still smiling.
“Oh come now.”
He reached out gently and brushed a loose lock of Celeste’s hair behind her ear.
“Let’s not get your hair in a knot.”
Celeste stiffened slightly.
“You’ll be fine.”
His voice softened.
“And at least we can finally put this High Dragon claim to rest.”
He met her eyes.
“We’re friends.”
“You can trust me.”
His voice was sincere now.
“I want the same thing you do.”
“To lift hybrids up.”
He gestured toward the glowing runes again.
“Consider this the first step.”
Celeste hesitated.
Her instincts screamed.
Something inside her core stirred uneasily.
Celeste studied him for a moment.
Then she smiled gently.
“…Alright.”
“I’ll help.”
Silver’s smile returned immediately.
He gave her a playful wink.
“Excellent.”
Silver began the chant.
Low.
Resonant.
The old draconic syllables rolled through the hallway like thunder buried under stone.
At first—
Nothing happened.
Silver glanced at her with an amused smirk.
Then Celeste staggered slightly.
“…Silver—”
Her voice strained.
“I don’t think—”
Silver continued.
The chant grew louder.
Celeste grabbed her head.
Her breathing changed.
Something inside her was pushing outward.
“…Silver stop.”
Silver’s smile lingered as the runes continued to turn slowly above his Arcbracer.
The air in the library shifted.
Not violently.
Just… heavier.
Like the room itself had begun listening.
Celeste shifted her weight uneasily.
“Silver?”
He didn’t look up from the projection.
She raised a hand slightly.
“…What exactly is this chant supposed to do?”
Silver glanced up briefly.
Then back to the runes.
“You’ll see.”
His tone was casual.
Reassuring.
“And before you ask—no, you are not about to be magically bound into my service.”
He smirked faintly.
“If that is what you’re worried about.”
But Celeste wasn’t smiling.
The faint scales along her collarbone had begun to glow.
Softly at first.
Then brighter.
The light flickered beneath her skin like a pulse of starlight.
Celeste stared down at her arms.
“…Silver.”
The glow spread.
More scales surfaced along her neck and shoulders, shining through the fabric of her sleeves.
Silver noticed.
He raised one brow.
But he didn’t stop.
He thought she was bluffing.
Celeste’s hands trembled.
“I’m serious—”
The words came out strained.
Her voice warped slightly, echoing with something deeper beneath it.
“I’m struggling to hold something back—”
Silver kept chanting.
The draconic syllables rolled off his tongue in steady rhythm.
Above his Arcbracer the runes spun faster.
The library lanterns flickered.
Celeste’s scales flared suddenly—
Wild light rippling across her skin.
She grabbed the edge of the table, trying to steady herself.
“Silver—”
Her voice distorted again.
Not just from strain.
Something inside her was pushing outward.
Something ancient.
Something vast.
The bookshelves rattled faintly.
Loose pages fluttered across the room.
Celeste squeezed her eyes shut.
“I’m not joking—”
Her scales flickered wildly now, light leaking between them like cracks in a star.
“I can’t hold it much longer—”
Silver’s brow furrowed slightly.
Still unconvinced.
Still chanting.
The runes flared.
What had been a quiet rotation of ancient symbols suddenly exploded into brilliance, the draconic sigils blazing like fragments of a shattered constellation above Silver’s Arcbracer.
For a fraction of a heartbeat—
Everything held.
Then something snapped.
The sound wasn’t loud.
But it felt enormous.
Like the moment a mountain cracks.
A violent shockwave of mana erupted outward through the library.
The air folded in on itself with a thunderous pulse.
Books tumbled from shelves.
Loose papers burst into the air like startled birds.
The lanterns overhead flickered wildly, their pumpkin-glow stuttering as the mana pressure surged through the room.
The mint-scented wards rippled like water struck by a stone.
Celeste staggered.
Then the change began.
Her aura ignited.
Not gently.
Not slowly.
It erupted around her body like a storm tearing open the sky.
Blue.
White.
Blinding.
Dragonfire.
The air roared as mana spiraled outward in violent currents, whipping through the library and rattling every shelf in the room.
Celeste’s back arched.
Light burst along her spine—
Then her wings exploded open.
Not the small flickers Silver had seen before.
These were enormous.
Radiant.
Iridescent feathers and burning draconic light unfurled in a sweeping arc that nearly filled the room, the edges trailing glowing strands of celestial mana like falling stardust.
Her crystal horns extended.
Longer.
Sharper.
Ancient.
The gem embedded in her forehead ignited.
A brilliant starburst of light that filled the library with a harsh celestial glow.
Celeste inhaled.
The breath sounded deeper than it should have been.
Older.
When she exhaled—
The roar that followed shook the entire corridor outside the library.
It was not the cry of a person.
It was the voice of something primordial.
Blue-white dragonfire spilled from her mouth in a blazing torrent, scorching the stone floor and sending heat crashing across the room like a furnace door opening.
The flames died.
But the presence remained.
Celeste stood there surrounded by the storm of her own power, wings half-spread, scales blazing with radiant light.
Then she spoke.
Not in her usual soft, uncertain voice.
Not with the gentle curiosity she carried everywhere.
The voice that emerged was ancient.
Commanding.
Terrible.
A voice that sounded like it had once been obeyed by kings.
“Nid wyt ti’n deilwng i orchymyn i mi.”
The words were not shouted.
They did not need to be.
They were declared.
“Prof i mi dy fod yn haeddu fy sylw.”
Silver froze.
He understood.
Not because he knew the language perfectly.
Because his blood did.
You are unworthy to command me.
Prove to me you deserve my notice.
His instincts reacted before his mind could.
And the air itself seemed to bow beneath them.
Dragon hierarchy.
Older than kingdoms.
Older than councils.
Older than logic.
His body moved on its own.
He dropped to one knee.
Head bowed.
Fear surged through his spine.
It was instinct.
She outranked him.
In that moment—
There was no doubt.
They stayed locked like that.
Two dragons frozen in ancient dominance.
Then suddenly—
The aura collapsed.
Celeste gasped.
Her wings vanished.
The fire died.
Reality rushed back.
“…oh stars.”
Celeste stared down at him in horror.
“Silver—!”
She dropped to her knees in front of him.
“I’m so sorry!”
She grabbed his arms trying to pull him up.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Silver stood slowly.
Very slowly.
Celeste kept apologizing.
“I tried to stop you I didn’t know it would—”
But something in his face had changed.
The playful arrogance was gone.
The charm.
Gone.
His eyes burned with something much darker.
She had accidentally triggered something deep.
Something old.
Something painful.
The worst moment of his life.
Celeste couldn’t understand it.
Couldn’t even imagine it.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated desperately.
“I didn’t mean—”
Silver stepped away from her.
His jaw clenched.
His voice was cold.
Dangerously quiet.
“…don’t.”
He turned and walked down the hallway.
Fast.
Celeste reached after him.
“Silver—”
He didn’t stop.
Didn’t look back.
He stormed away.
Leaving Celeste standing there.
Heart sinking.
Realizing slowly—
She might have just destroyed their friendship.
