The streets of Ilagron had gone still by the time Lukas and the Kraken returned, the moon casting long silver streaks across the cobblestone paths to the estate.
Behind them trailed a silent, uneven procession—the freed slaves, eyes wide and unsure, huddled together like shadows clinging to the last bit of light. Mister Rabbit was bound in thick ropes, dragged across the floor by the Kraken, bruises blooming like ink across his face.
As they approached the gates of the Ilagron Estate, Lukas' main concern was getting the red-haired dragon to safety. Even with all the healing potions he'd used on her, he wondered if she really would be okay.
Then, from the steps of the estate, a figure emerged, arms crossed, silver hair flickering in the breeze.
Velena.
Awake.
Watching.
Her expression was not one of relief, nor shock—but of cold, simmering fury. Her anger grew when she saw who Lukas had brought with him.
Her crimson eyes locked onto Lukas, then dropped to Mister Rabbit, and her jaw clenched so hard he could hear her teeth grind.
"I told you," she hissed, voice sharp as a whip crack, "to stay out of it. He was mine to deal with. My burden. You had no right."
Lukas held out a hand and glanced at his familiar and then to Mister Rabbit.
It was confession time.
Mister Rabbit twitched violently as the Kraken's eyes flashed with that eerie, unnatural light—the color of deep, crushing pressure and ancient horrors that lived in the ocean's darkest trenches.
Velena eyed the man who she knew well, for he was the one who she was in debt to.
He squirmed for a moment longer, eyes rolling back, mouth twitching open.
The Kraken didn't need to hold back this time around, forcing his way through mental barriers; the tentacles of his magic reaching into the deepest crevices of the man's mind.
"I… I did it," he began, voice hollow and slow, strangled under the weight of Kraken's control. "We sabotaged the ships that came to Ilagron's docks, and blamed it on the Leviathan. Paid off dockmasters. Spread false rumors. Anything to poison her name in the ledger books of the merchant guilds. I never wanted to lend her a single coin. But Nozar… Nozar said if we let her fall just enough, just enough, she'd have to crawl to us. And when she took our money, we owned her. Every debt she couldn't repay was a chain tightening around her neck."
Velena did not say a word, her hands clenched so tightly her nails had dug bloody crescents into her palms. Her eyes were as cold as ice but Lukas recognized the immense rage that seemed to have risen within her.
Mister Rabbit gasped, body jolting, and then continued, his voice dropping, words turning viscous and bitter. "It was supposed to end with her power stripped. Her legacy shattered. Ilagron Village would be under Nozar's control, with me—me—appointed as the new Earl. A puppet of course. But a king among fleas. I would've owned everything she built."
The Kraken's magic pulsed again.
Mister Rabbit screamed, it seemed like he was hiding something but it had not escaped the Kraken's magic.
He sobbed, shouting out in agony as he felt the magic's hold on his brain. There was no point in resisting it.
And then he whispered, "And Kaelen. Her son. I… I had them killed, him and his family. They never made it onto the boat. Nozar provided me with men who could get the job done. I arranged for the time and place. Their blood is on my hands."
Even the wind dared not speak.
Velena stood there, unmoving, as though her very soul had been struck dumb. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her son. Her grandson and granddaughter. Gone—not to misfortune, not to fate, but murdered under her nose by the smiling man in the bunny mask.
Lukas looked at her, then at Mister Rabbit—who now sat slumped in his chains, blood and tears dripping down his face.
He had not even known that the House of Fortunes had been responsible for Kaelen's death, Velena's son.
Velena staggered backwards, her legs finally failing her as she collapsed to her knees. The lanterns above flickered in the wind, casting long shadows over her trembling frame. Her hands clutched at the soil like it might anchor her soul before it tore apart completely.
The once-proud matriarch, always composed, always regal—like Lady Kaitlyn Drakos—finally broke.
A strangled sob tore from her throat, so raw it felt like it had been buried in her for years. She covered her face with her hands as the truth settled over her like a grave shroud—Kaelen, her baby boy, never even made it on that boat.
He was murdered.
Her grandchild, likely butchered alongside him.
Not swept away by the sea, but taken by knives, in the dark, by the hand of the very man now shackled in front of her.
"What…what do you even want from me?" Velena rasped, voice hoarse, brittle as dry leaves.
She looked up at Lukas, her face twisted in pain, fury, despair—all bleeding into one.
"Why would you tell me this? What do you gain by crushing me under the weight of something I can't fix?!" Her words cracked like thunder. "Do you want vengeance? Is this a show for you? Some noble crusade? I can't fight the Nozar Kingdom! I'm just an old woman with no army, no wealth, no family!"
She slammed her fist into the ground with a cry, tears trailing through the dust on her cheeks. "My husband's bones are buried beneath this estate, I buried him with my own hands! My son and his wife were murdered in silence. My grandchildren, taken away before their time. And you stand here with your magic and with your righteous fury and answers THAT I NEVER ASKED FOR, AND FOR WHAT!?"
Her gaze turned hateful, but the pain behind it was blinding. "You do this because you want me to accept your proposal, to work with you. But why should I trust you? For all I know, you're just like him. Another man in love with power, with blood on your hands and ambition the only thing on your mind. Maybe you'll promise to protect Ilagron Village today and sell it to Nozar tomorrow."
She bit her lip hard enough to bleed. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I have no one left. No one to trust. Nothing to fight with. And nothing to live for. Now, I cannot even die in peace for the ones who have wronged me will never pay for their sins. You have not done me justice. You have not done a thing for me, Lukas."
Her words hung in the air like a curse, each syllable a dagger of grief. But beneath her venom, it was clear—she wasn't lashing out at Lukas.
She was screaming into a void that had swallowed her entire world.
The Countess just been strong enough to hold in all of this pain and suffering. The Rabbit's confession had been the final blow to break the floodwalls that had been holding back the waves of emotion that had been raging within her.
And it broke his heart because she was feeling exactly what he had just before he took his final breath as Julien Fronterra. She felt alone.
So Lukas made a choice. Right there and then. He had no idea what would come of it, but he knew he was going to do it. He had to do it. Because it was the one thing that felt right in his heart.
The earth trembled beneath Lukas' bare feet as the air thickened, pressure dropping like the silence before a storm. He raised his hand slowly—deliberately—and the seas rose into the air.
From beyond the cliffs, from the rivers that twisted like veins beneath the land, from the very moisture in the air—water rose.
Tendrils surged skyward like serpents breaching the heavens, roaring into a torrent that raced toward the Ilagron Estate. And then, it circled—spiraling around the estate in a towering dome of living, surging, breathing water.
The Ilagron Estate was cast in sapphire hues, the world outside blurred by the moving waves.
Moonlight broke through the cascade in fragmented rays, bathing the cracked stones and wilted trees in haunting beauty.
Jesse and Katrina burst from the manor, eyes wide, relief painted across their faces—but they did nothing, waiting for Lukas' order.
Velena looked around, heart pounding. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to move away from him. "What… what are you doing?" she whispered.
There was fear in her voice now, genuine and unfiltered.
She had lived through wars. She had stared down nobles with armies at their backs when they threatened Ilagron's safety. But this? This was divine. Only some humans were capable of magic. This was not something she knew a human to be capable of. Only once in her life had she ever felt so utterly helpless in the face of the power and this reminded her exactly of that. And she thought—perhaps in these final moments—he had come to kill her.
Then Lukas exhaled.
His bones cracked with a sickening rhythm as his spine lengthened, limbs twisted, flesh melted and reshaped itself.
His skin shimmered—shifting from pale warmth to scales kissed by the starlit sea. His arms split open with bursts of blood and steam as sinew and muscle rewove themselves into colossal limbs. Wings tore through the fabric of his back in a violent explosion of water and flesh, each feathered with scaled membranes that shimmered like obsidian drenched in rain.
His face was the last to change—jaw snapping, teeth erupting like jagged white knives from bloody gums, eyes widening into piercing orbs of molten azure flame. Horns twisted from his brow, spiraling back like coral frozen in agony.
It should've been horrific.
But it wasn't.
It was beautiful. Like the sea reclaiming a drowned star. Like nature unbinding the false limits of a human form and restoring something ancient, eternal, free. He towered above them now, a behemoth cloaked in wrath and reverence, the blood of the ocean running through his veins, the embodiment of the Draconic Flow.
Velena collapsed backward in the dirt, mouth agape. The slaves behind her fell to their knees, trembling—not in fear, but in awe.
A silence fell so deep it could crush mountains.
The water dome pulsed around them like a living heart, each thrum echoing in the air, resonating with something older than time. Lukas stood in his full draconic form—wings spread wide, scales glimmering like starlight drenched in ocean's breath, a crown of tide and mist hovering above his brow.
It was the Crown of the Lord. Lukas had never used it with such great intent before but now the Legacy manifested itself into physical formation, clear for all to see.
The world stilled as a thunderless voice surged through the minds of all who stood beneath the sea-dome.
It was not a sound—they heard it in their bones, blood, in the quiet corners of their souls.
Velena clutched her chest as the voice swept through her, ancient and yet impossibly intimate.
"Long ago…your ancestors met mine beneath this moon. A pact was made—not with ink and quill, but with trust. During the Great War, Ilagron Kingdom stood with the dragons. When the world turned its back on us, you did not. And for that, you paid the ultimate price."
Images rippled through the watery veil around them: of winged beasts and human warriors fighting side by side, their banners raised not in conquest, but in unity. These were scenes that he had never lived through, never experienced. It was as if the memories of the rulers of the past were projecting through him and he could feel their presence within his magic.
A boy and a young dragon playing in a small river. The same boy, now a silver-haired king clasping the clawed hand of an enormous sea-dragon in the midst of fire and ruin, the expression on his face one of pure despair at losing someone he truly loved.
"Since then, dragons have been hunted. Enslaved. Tortured. We have hidden. We have survived. The Kingdom of Dragon remembers. We remember the oath once sworn…and we will honor it."
Lukas' wings folded slightly, lowering his massive head to meet Velena's stunned gaze. His eyes—those ancient pools of sorrow and power—held her still.
"The bond between dragon and human shall be renewed today. You are not alone, Velena Ilagron. Not anymore. We, the dragons, are with you. Always. I, Lukas Drakos, give you my word. You have lost your husband. Your son. Your grandchildren. Your village. You have every right to weep. Every right to rage. Every right… to give up."
He inched closer and for a moment, Velena seemed uncertain. She seemed terrified of this magnificently terrifying beast that had appeared before her eyes.
"But you are not the only one who wants vengeance. They have treated my kind as monsters. As beasts. As weapons. Now it is their time to answer for their sins. I will make Nozar bleed for every life taken. For every dragon tortured. For every lie they buried beneath gold and crowns. That is my promise. I cannot choose your path, Velena. Whether you choose to fight with us as your ancestors once did, or simply live… that choice is yours. But know this—"
The water rippled with divine weight as the Crown of the Lord shimmered like liquid silver fire above his forehead.
"You are no longer alone."
And for a brief, flickering moment… something passed through Lukas. A memory not of this world but the one before. A man named Julien Fronterra, alone in that ring, waiting for a voice to tell him he mattered. Waiting to be chosen. To be seen.
He had never heard those words in that life.
So now, he gave them to someone who needed them just as desperately as he needed to hear it in his dying moments.
Velena stood frozen beneath the shimmering dome, the water casting dappled light over her weary face. Her breaths were uneven, her chest rising and falling as if something sacred was trying to escape from within. She had no words—because words would fail. Logic had long abandoned her. All she had now were feelings, raw and real, coursing through her like wildfire.
And through the bond—the one forged by the Crown of the Lord—she felt him.
Not just Lukas the dragon. Not just the mysterious man who had returned with slaves and storms.
She felt his grief, his purpose, and something even deeper. That buried ache. That unbearable loneliness. She felt a heart that had broken and been reforged, not with malice or vengeance, but with longing. With love. With hope. That bond reached through every layer of her soul—not demanding, not begging, but simply being there.
Tears began to fall. Not the kind she could hold back with strength or pride. These were the tears of a woman who had been strong for far too long. Who had stood when she should have fallen. Who had clenched her jaw through funerals, betrayals, and silent nights filled with regret. Her body trembled as the truth settled into her chest like a warm weight—she could trust him.
Velena took one trembling step forward.
Then another.
Lukas, sensing it—no, feeling it—lowered his head slowly, with the grace and reverence of an ancient guardian. His massive horns dipped, his scaled snout now within reach. His breath was warm and steady. He did not speak. He did not need to.
Velena reached up with both hands, still trembling, and then pressed her forehead gently against his.
It was like something sacred had established.
A bond not just between woman and dragon—but between two broken souls who had known too much pain. It was the kind of silence that could make the stars weep. Her fingers curled against his scales, and Lukas closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her touch anchor him.
They stayed like that.
Not as symbols.
Not as rulers or rebels.
But as friends—as kin.
And the crowd watched, breathless. Jesse and Katrina looked on, their eyes shining with tears they didn't fully understand. The freed slaves, still shackled in fear and memory, stood in stunned silence, witnessing a pact that was made long ago, older than the Great War, older than the fallen Kingdom of Ilagron itself.
The water dome shimmered around them like a gentle heartbeat.
And so the bond between human and dragon was renewed once more.
But through trust.
And the quiet, sacred knowing that they were no longer alone. Because they had each other.