The portal tears open with a sound like reality splitting at the seams.
I shape the chaos magic with precision born of desperation and divine heritage, weaving the fabric of space itself into a doorway. The veil shimmers into existence before us—massive, luminous, its edges crackling with violet energy that makes the air taste like ozone and starlight.
Through it, I can see... light.
Not sunlight. Nor firelight.
Something else entirely.
"Thronkaville," Arsenal breathes, his voice thick with emotion.
His ten children gather around him, their golden eyes wide with wonder. Ruben stands at his father's right shoulder, his expression carefully controlled. Rosie clutches Lily's hand. Jasper and Jet flank their siblings protectively. The others—Onyx, Willow, Malachi, Jasmine, Zircon—press close, a unit forged by survival and love.
"Stay together," Arsenal tells them, his voice firm but gentle. "And remember—these people may be family. Even if they don't know it yet."
Ghatak's hand finds mine, his fingers lacing through mine with familiar warmth. Through our bond, I feel his steady presence—an anchor in the chaos of my own swirling emotions.
We're about to discover the truth.
About one of my sisters.
About what she's built.
I take a breath and step through the portal.
The first thing I notice is the light.
It's everywhere—soft, ethereal, bioluminescent. The walls of the cavern we've emerged into are embedded with crystals that glow in shades of blue and violet and silver, casting everything in a dreamlike radiance that makes my breath catch.
The second thing I notice is the life.
Trees grow here—impossibly, beautifully—their trunks twisted and gnarled, their leaves glowing a soft, luminous blue that pulses gently like a heartbeat. Vines hang from the ceiling, dripping with phosphorescent moss that shimmers like captured starlight. Insects flit through the air, their wings catching the light, leaving trails of gold and green in their wake.
And beyond the trees, I see water.
A river flows through the center of the cavern, its surface glowing with an inner light—liquid silver that moves with a gentle, hypnotic rhythm. The sound of it is soothing, a constant murmur that fills the space with a sense of peace I haven't felt in... gods, I don't know how long.
This is Thronkaville.
This is where my sister has been.
Arsenal steps up beside me, his children following close behind. His expression is complicated—longing, hope, fear all warring for dominance.
"It's beautiful," Rosie whispers.
"It's home," Arsenal says quietly. "Or it should have been."
I scan the cavern, taking in the details with the cold, calculating precision that has kept me alive for millennia.
The settlement is built into the rock itself—carved chambers and passages that wind through the stone like veins. I can see doorways, windows, balconies overlooking the river. Bridges span the water, delicate structures of stone and wood that seem to grow organically from the landscape.
And everywhere, I see people.
Not dragons.
People.
Humans and... something else.
They move through the settlement—tending to gardens carved into terraced stone, carrying supplies, watching us with wary, curious eyes. Some are clearly human—fragile, short-lived, mortal. But others...
Others have something different about them.
The way they move. The way the light catches their skin. The subtle glow in their eyes.
Hybrids.
The realization settles over me like ice water.
This isn't a dragon settlement.
This is something else entirely.
Arsenal's entire body has gone rigid beside me. His breathing quickens, his hands clenching into fists, and I feel the raw, desperate need radiating from him in waves.
"Do you sense them?" I ask quietly.
"Yes." His voice is hoarse. "Thirty of them. My children. They're here."
"Where?"
He gestures vaguely toward the far end of the cavern, where the settlement seems to extend into deeper passages. "There. I can feel them. Their presence."
"Then let's go to them."
"I can't."
I turn to look at him. "What?"
His golden eyes are bright with unshed tears. "I've tried. For two thousand years, I've tried. There's a barrier. Wards. Something that keeps me out. I can sense them—I can feel their heartbeats, their magic, their existence—but I can't reach them."
The anguish in his voice is devastating.
"You've been this close for two thousand years," I say slowly, "and you couldn't get to them."
"Yes."
"But you think I can."
"You're not bound by the same restrictions." He pulls something from his pocket—a small crystal that glows with faint golden light. "These are the coordinates. The exact location. If you can open a portal directly to them..."
"I can bypass the barrier," I finished.
"Yes."
I take the crystal, feeling its warmth against my palm. "I'll find them. I promise."
"Thank you." His voice breaks on the words.
We're approached by a group of inhabitants—three humans and two hybrids, all watching us with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
The youngest, a hybrid woman with brown hair and sharp features, steps forward. "You came through the veil. We felt the magic."
"We did," I say.
"Are you... are you dragons?"
"Yes."
Her eyes widened. "True dragons? Pure-blooded?"
"Yes."
A ripple of shock runs through the group. One of the hybrids—a young man with faintly luminous skin and eyes that glow a soft amber—steps forward.
"We've never seen pure-blooded dragons before," he says. "Only heard stories."
"How many live here?" Ghatak asks.
"In Thronkaville?" The woman considers. "Three hundred humans, give or take. And two hundred fifty-six of the blessed ones."
"Blessed ones?"
"The children of the Silver Mother," she says reverently. "Those born of her gift."
Silver Mother.
One of my sisters
"Tell me about her," I say, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
The woman's expression softens. "She came to us long ago. Before any of us were born. She was... broken. Lost. But she gave us a gift beyond measure."
"What gift?"
"Life." The hybrid man gestures to himself. "We are her legacy. Born of her magic, her essence. She blessed forty-two women with children—triplets, all of them. And she laid eggs of her own. One hundred of them."
My mind races, doing the math.
Forty-two women. Triplets each. That's one hundred twenty-six children.
Plus one hundred eggs.
Plus...
"There were others," the woman continues. "Eggs left in her care. Thirty of them. We've raised them as our own."
Arsenal's children.
The thirty he can sense but can't reach.
"And the Silver Mother?" I ask. "Where is she now?"
The woman's expression grows troubled. "She used to come and go in the past. But she stopped coming over a century ago. One thing we know for certain; she's consumed by the eggs. By the need to protect them, nurture them, ensure their safety."
"She doesn't know why," the hybrid adds. "She's always silent during her days. Never shares what's on her mind but her action tells a different story. The compulsion is... overwhelming. Primal.."
Dragon instinct.
Expressing itself without conscious understanding.
"How old are the blessed ones?" Ghatak asks.
"The eldest are over a thousand years old," the woman says. "The youngest... perhaps eight hundred. Our original mothers and fathers have long since passed. But we remain."
A thousand years old.
All of them.
Which sister created an entire civilization of long-lived hybrids and then... what? Left? Forgot?
The scope of it is staggering.
Arsenal's children have been standing quietly, but now Lily steps forward.
She's small, delicate, with golden eyes and dark hair that falls in soft waves around her face. She looks up at me with wide, wandering eyes.
"Are you really from the home world?" she asks.
I kneel down, bringing myself to her level. "I am."
"What's it like?"
Destroyed. Empty. Haunted by ghosts. Or at least it was.
"It's beautiful," I say instead. "Restored. Waiting for people to come home."
Her face lights up. "Can we go there? Can we see it?"
"Maybe," I say gently. "If your father allows.."
She reaches out, her small hand extending toward me, and I don't think—I just react.
I take her hand in mine.
And the world explodes.
It's not pain.
It's not pleasure.
It's recognition.
A flood of sensation crashes through me—magic, bloodline, connection. I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the very core of my being.
The familiar bond.
A link that exists between parent and child, woven into the fabric of their shared genetics. It's a dragon thing—ancient, primal, impossible to fake or replicate.
And through this bond, I feel her.
The mother.
The source.
The woman whose blood runs through this child's veins.
Silver hair. Platinum eyes. Iridescent skin.
Bia.
My 6th sister.
Arsenal's mate.
The mother of one hundred and twenty-five dragon children.
The revelation slams into me with the force of a physical blow, and I gasp, my hand tightening around Lily's.
The child looks up at me with concern. "Are you okay?"
I can't answer. Can't breathe. Can't think.
Because I know.
I now know who her mother is. Reliving the memories of the past, I realize she was one of my sisters that was captured by Sadie. She must have escaped somehow, losing her memory in the process.
I look up, my gaze locking onto Arsenal's, and I see the exact moment he realizes what's happened.
His golden eyes widened. His breath catches. And then he's moving—crossing the distance between us in three long strides, his expression raw with desperate hope.
"You know," he says, his voice breaking. "You know."
I release Lily's hand gently and rise to my feet, my legs unsteady beneath me.
"I know," I whisper.
"Tell me." His hands are shaking. "Please. Tell me her name."
I meet his gaze, and I see two thousand years of searching, of longing, of desperate, aching need reflected in those golden eyes.
"Her name," I say slowly, my voice carrying across the cavern, "is Bia Shinazugawa."
Arsenal makes a sound—something between a sob and a laugh, raw and broken and relieved.
"Bia," he breathes, testing the name on his tongue like a prayer. "Bia. Bia."
The gathered inhabitants watch in stunned silence.
"Bia Shinazugawa," I continue, my throat tight. "6th princess of the void and chaos dragon clans. Sixth daughter of the royal bloodline."
I take a step toward Arsenal, my heart pounding.
"She's one of my older sisters."
Silence falls over the cavern.
The inhabitants who had been watching from a distance have gone still, their eyes fixed on us. Arsenal's children cluster together, their expressions a mixture of confusion and wonder.
Ghatak stands at my side, his presence steady and grounding, but he doesn't speak. This moment isn't his.
It's mine.
And Arsenal's.
And Bia's—even though she isn't here to witness it.
Arsenal's face is wet with tears he doesn't bother to wipe away. "Bia Shinazugawa," he says again, his voice thick with emotion. "After all this time... I finally know her name."
"She's your fated mate," I say. "The mother of your children. All one hundred twenty-five of them."
"Where is she?" he asks desperately. "If she created this place, if these are her children, where is she?"
The brown-haired woman steps forward hesitantly. "The Silver Mother doesn't stay in one place. She... she wanders. Sometimes she's here for months. Sometimes she's gone for years. We never know when she'll return."
"But you know where she goes?"
The woman shakes her head. "She doesn't tell us. And we've learned not to ask."
Arsenal's expression crumbles. "So close. After two thousand years, I'm so close, and she's still out of reach."
I place a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find her. I promise you that."
"How?"
"Because she's my sister," I say firmly. "And I don't leave my family behind."
Even if my family doesn't remember me.
Even family who built an entire civilization without knowing what they were doing.
Even family who might never remember who they were.
Especially them.
The hybrid man who spoke earlier steps forward again. "You said she's a princess. That she's your sister. But... the Silver Mother has no memory of her past. She doesn't know who she was before the veil."
"I know," I say. "The veil corrupted her. Took everything from her—her memories, her identity, her sense of self. All that's left is instinct. Dragon instinct expressing itself without understanding."
"The eggs," the woman says softly. "That's why she's so consumed by them."
"Yes. It's her biology asserting itself. The need to create, to nurture, to protect. She doesn't know why she feels it. She just does."
"And the children she bore here?" the hybrid asks. "The hundred twenty-six of us born to human mothers?"
"Dragon reproduction," I explain. "We're hermaphrodites. We can impregnate or be impregnated. Bia's instinct drove her to create life, to build a legacy, even without conscious understanding of what she was doing."
The scope of it settles over the gathered crowd like a weight.
"She built all of this," the woman whispers. "An entire civilization. And she doesn't even know why?."
"No," I say. "She doesn't."
Arsenal's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "And my thirty children? The ones I can sense but can't reach?"
"They're here," I say. "Raised by this community. Protected. Loved."
"But I can't get to them."
"Not yet. But I can." I hold up the crystal he gave me. "I'll open a portal directly to them. Bypass whatever barrier is keeping you out."
"And then?"
"And then we figure out why the barrier exists in the first place." I look at the gathered inhabitants. "Someone put those wards in place. Someone wanted Arsenal separated from his children. We need to know who. And why."
The woman and the hybrid exchange uneasy glances.
"You know something," Ghatak observes.
The woman hesitates, then nods slowly. "The Silver Mother placed the wards herself. Years ago. She said... she said it was to protect the children. That there were forces that would harm them if they could be found."
"What forces?" I demand.
"She didn't say. Or couldn't. The compulsion to protect was too strong."
Bia sealed Arsenal's children away from him.
To protect them.
From what?
Another mystery. Another question without answers.
But at least now we have a name.
Bia Shinazugawa.
My sister. Arsenal's mate. The mother of one hundred twenty-five children.
And somewhere out there, wandering alone with no memory of who she is, she's carrying the weight of instincts she can't understand and a legacy she left behind after creating.
"We need to find her," Arsenal says, his voice steady despite the tears still streaming down his face. "We need to bring her home."
"We will," I promise. "But first, we deal with the immediate situation. Your thirty children. The barrier. The wards."
"And the missing eighty-five," he adds quietly.
I freeze. "What?"
"I had one hundred twenty-five children with Bia," he says. "Ten are with me. Thirty are here. That leaves eighty-five unaccounted for."
Eighty-five missing children.
Where the hell are they?
"Do you sense them?" I ask. "The way you sense the thirty here?"
He shakes his head. "No. Nothing. It's like they don't exist. Or they're so far away, so deeply hidden, that even the familiar bond can't reach them."
"Or they're dead," Ghatak says bluntly.
"No." Arsenal's voice is firm. "I would know. I would feel it if they were dead. They're alive. Somewhere."
"Then we find them," I say. "All of them. We will bring this family back together."
"And Bia?"
"She's included."
I look around the luminous cavern—at the glowing trees, the silver river, the carved chambers built into living rock. At the three hundred humans and two hundred fifty-six hybrids who call this place home.
At the legacy my sister built without knowing what she was doing.
This is what instinct looks like when it's divorced from memory.
This is what happens when a dragon loses everything but still creates.
This is Bia's unconscious empire.
And I'm going to make damn sure she gets to see it with clear eyes.
Even if I have to tear down every barrier, break every ward, and hunt across multiple worlds to make it happen.
"Show me where the thirty children are," I tell the woman. "I want to see them."
She nods and gestures for us to follow.
We move through the settlement, and I take in more details as we walk. The inhabitants watch us with a mixture of awe and wariness. Children play near the river, their laughter echoing off the stone. Elders sit in clusters, speaking in low voices.
And everywhere, I see evidence of Bia's influence.
Carvings in the stone that depict dragons in flight. Gardens arranged in patterns that mirror the chaos-and-void duality of our bloodline. Protective wards woven into the very fabric of the settlement.
The woman leads us to a passage that extends deeper into the cavern. As we approach, I feel it—the barrier Arsenal mentioned.
It's subtle. Almost invisible. But it's there.
A wall of magic that hums with protective intent.
Arsenal stops at the threshold, his hand reaching out to touch the barrier. His fingers pass through empty air, but I can see the way his magic recoils, repelled by whatever force Bia wove into this space.
"I can't go further," he says quietly.
"But I can." I step forward, and the barrier parts for me like water.
Because I'm Bia's blood.
Because the wards recognize me as family.
I turn back to look at Arsenal. "Wait here. I'll bring them to you."
His expression is a mixture of hope and anguish. "Tell them... tell them their father has been searching for them. That I never stopped. That I never gave up."
"I will."
I step through the barrier, Ghatak at my side, and we move deeper into the passage.
The chamber we find is beautiful.
Carved from luminous crystal, it glows with soft blue light. Beds line the walls—thirty of them, each one carefully made. Personal belongings are scattered throughout—books, clothing, small trinkets that speak of individual lives and personalities.
And in the center of the room, gathered around a table, are thirty dragons.
They're young—most of them appearing to be in their late teens or early twenties in humanoid form. Their eyes are golden, like Arsenal's. Their features carry echoes of both their parents.
And when they see us, they freeze.
"Who are you?" one of them asks—a young woman with long dark hair and Arsenal's sharp cheekbones.
"My name is Astraea Shinazugawa," I say. "And I'm here because your father sent me."
The room erupts in shocked whispers.
"Our father?"
"Arsenal, is his name." I scanned my eyes over the group.
"He's here?"
"He's been searching for you," I say. ". He's been right outside this barrier, sensing your presence, unable to reach you."
"The wards," another one says—a young man with golden eyes that glow brighter than the others. "Mother placed them. She said it was to protect us."
"From what?"
"She didn't say. Or couldn't. But she was... frantic. Desperate. Like something was hunting us."
What the hell was Bia running from? Sadie?
"Your father is waiting," I say. "Just beyond the barrier. He wants to see you. . To finally be the father he's been trying to be for millennia."
The thirty dragons exchange glances, uncertainty and longing warring on their faces.
"We can't leave." the young woman stated. "The wards wont let us?"
"I'll have to fix that," I murmured.
We return to the barrier together—all thirty of Arsenal's children, plus Ghatak and me.
Arsenal is still standing at the threshold, his ten other children gathered around him. When he sees the thirty approaching, his entire body goes rigid.
"My children," he breathes.
The barrier shimmers between them—a wall of magic that keeps them separated.
I reach out, placing my hand against the barrier, and I feel Bia's magic woven into it. Protective. Desperate. Terrified.
What were you so afraid of, sister?
What were you trying to protect them from?
I don't have answers. But I have power.
And I'm going to use it.
I gather my void magic, feeling it pool and settle within me like an absence, like the negation of all things. I shape it into something that isn't a weapon—something that is the opposite of existence itself.
And I unmake.
The barrier doesn't shatter. It doesn't crack or splinter.
It's simply... ceases.
The magic that held it together unravels, consumed by the void, negated into nothingness. Where there was once a wall of protective energy, there is now only empty space. The barrier doesn't explode or dissipate—it's erased, as if it never existed at all. The void magic doesn't cut through reality; it rewrites it, declaring that this barrier was not, and reality obeys.
The magic dissipates in a shower of silver sparks, and suddenly there's nothing between Arsenal and his children.
Nothing but air and hope and two thousand years of separation.
Arsenal moves first.
He crosses the threshold and pulls the nearest child into his arms—the young woman with dark hair—and he sobs.
"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "I'm so sorry. I tried. I tried so hard to reach you."
"We know," she whispers, her own tears falling. "We felt you. Always. We knew you were there."
The other twenty-nine children surge forward, and suddenly Arsenal is surrounded by his family—forty dragons, all of them his, all of them finally, finally together.
I step back, giving them space, and Ghatak's hand finds mine.
"That was well done," he murmurs.
"It was necessary."
"It was both."
I watch the reunion, and I feel something twist in my chest.
This is what Bia created
And somewhere out there, she's wandering alone, carrying the weight of instincts she can't understand and a legacy she left behind..
I'm going to find you, Bia.
I'm going to bring you home.
I'm going to make you remember.
Or die trying.
We spend hours in Thronkaville, learning about the settlement, meeting the inhabitants, piecing together the fragments of Bia's unconscious empire.
The three hundred humans are descendants of those who found refuge here over the centuries. The two hundred fifty-six hybrids are Bia's direct legacy—long-lived, powerful, and utterly devoted to the Silver Mother who gave them life.
And the thirty children Arsenal was separated from? They're thriving. Educated. Loved.
But they're also confused.
"Why did Mother seal us away?" one of them asks. "What was she protecting us from?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But I intend to find out."
"And the others?" another asks. "We've heard Father mention them. The eighty-five who are missing."
"We'll find them too."
"How?"
Good question.
"One step at a time," I say. "First, we secure Thronkaville. Then we find Bia. Then we find the missing children."
"And if they're in danger?"
"Then we eliminate the danger."
Simple. Direct. Effective.
Very me.
As the day wears on, Arsenal pulls me aside.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "For breaking the barrier. For reuniting me with my children."
"You don't need to thank me."
"I do." His golden eyes are serious. "You gave me something I thought I'd lost forever. Hope."
"Hope is dangerous," I say. "It makes you vulnerable."
"Maybe. But it also makes you strong."
I consider that. "You really love her, don't you? Bia."
"More than anything." His voice is soft. "I kept her alive for three months. Poured everything I had into her. And when she woke... when she looked at me with those platinum eyes and didn't know who I was... it broke me."
"But you kept searching."
"I had to. She's my mate. My fated mate. That bond doesn't break just because she doesn't remember."
Fated mates.
I glance at Ghatak, who's speaking with some of the hybrids across the cavern.
I understand that bond.
I understand what it means to find the one person who completes you.
"We'll find her," I promise Arsenal. "And when we do, we'll figure out how to restore her memories. Or at least help her understand what she's lost."
"And if her memories can't be restored?"
"Then we help her build new ones."
He nods slowly. "Thank you, Astraea. For everything."
"Thank me when we've actually found her."
As night falls over Thronkaville—or what passes for night in a cavern lit by bioluminescent crystals—Ghatak and I are given quarters to rest.
The room is simple but comfortable, carved into the living rock with a bed, a small table, and a window overlooking the silver river.
I collapse onto the bed, exhaustion finally catching up with me.
"That was a lot," Ghatak says, settling beside me.
"That's an understatement."
"And now?"
"Now we find her. We bring her home. We help her understand what she's created."
"And the eighty-five missing children?"
I close my eyes. "One crisis at a time, Ghatak."
He pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me. "We'll figure it out. Together."
"Together," I echo.
And as I drift off to sleep, I think about my sister.
About the woman who fell through a corrupted veil and lost everything.
About the woman who built an empire from instinct alone.
About the woman who's still out there, wandering, searching for something she can't name.