Penny, the dragon queen, sighed.

  “Kempy,” she said, “we need to go investigate that chamber that opened up.”

  Her gaze cut to Drakorya and Queen.

  “You two are coming,” Penny added.

  Drakorya and her daughter both answered at the same time. “Okay.”

  They walked to the chamber where the seven calamities had once been sealed.

  Now there was a huge hole—jagged stone torn open like the mountain had been clawed from the inside—revealing a long stairwell descending into the dark.

  The dragons started down.

  Hours passed.

  “I never knew this existed,” Kempy muttered, voice echoing off stone.

  Penny’s eyes stayed forward. “This is incredible.”

  Finally, the four dragons reached a landing where two doors stood side by side—ancient, carved, and wrong in the way old things are wrong.

  The first door read:

  HERE LAY THE GODS OF THE OLD. DO NOT OPEN.

  The second door read:

  HERE LAY THE SISTER-SERIES DEITY DRAGONS.

  But the second inscription had been attacked—guarded by claw marks, the words scratched out like someone had tried to erase the idea of it.

  Penny and Kempy spoke at the same time.

  “I guess we’re opening this one, then.”

  Penny lifted her hand and melted the door down.

  The stone ran like wax.

  A seal appeared in the air where the doorway had been—red light forming a two-headed wolf sigil. It growled, then spoke with a voice that made the stairwell feel smaller.

  “Do not proceed any further, new hatchlings. This is the chamber of my lover, Lunara… and her sisters. If you proceed further, I will be forced to take action.”

  The seal vanished with an eerie howl that lingered long after the light was gone.

  Kempy frowned. “Weird. A wolf sigil? Why would one of those be here? The wolf deities were wiped out during the old dragon war.”

  Penny didn’t slow. “Let’s continue.”

  She and Kempy moved forward—

  without realizing Drakorya and Queen weren’t behind them anymore.

  Drakorya stood at the other door.

  The one that warned them not to open it.

  “I’m opening this chamber,” Drakorya said.

  Queen’s eyes widened. “Mother—”

  “If they’re going that way,” Drakorya said, “then we need to see the truth. The old gods. Why they were turned into calamity books.”

  Queen swallowed. “You’ll get in trouble with Penny and Kempy.”

  Drakorya smiled—small, sharp, and tired.

  “Then I’ll be in trouble.”

  She pushed the door open.

  A dragon’s roar rolled out like a breath that had been trapped for centuries.

  Beyond the threshold was a castle.

  Still intact.

  Queen and her mother stepped inside.

  The air was cold in a way that didn’t belong underground.

  They moved through halls of stone and old banners, deeper and deeper, until they found it—

  something horrible.

  The old dragon deities.

  All seven of them.

  Still alive.

  But not moving.

  Not breathing like living things.

  They looked… emptied. Like their souls were somewhere else.

  Queen’s hands trembled.

  Then she noticed them: seven books—like journals—set near the bodies like offerings.

  Her heart hammered.

  Quietly, without her mother noticing, Queen took the seven books and slipped them into her pouch.

  Drakorya turned sharply. “Come on, Queen. We’re leaving. We should not be here.”

  They ran.

  Chains snapped through the air—wrapping around Queen and Drakorya like the seam itself had decided they were done.

  They dashed back to the entrance and slammed the door shut just in time.

  Kempy’s head poked up from the other stairwell, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing up here still? Let’s go.”

  Drakorya set Queen down and raised her voice, making it convincing.

  “How could you not listen to what I’ve been telling you to do?” Drakorya yelled. “All you do is try to cause trouble!”

  Queen flinched on cue.

  Drakorya’s mother—still playing the part—smacked her.

  “Let’s go,” she snapped.

  And they all continued down the stairs, following Penny and Kempy’s path.

  Hours later, the stairwell opened into another cavern.

  A castle waited there too—darker, heavier, like the stone had learned fear.

  “This must be the dark god’s castle,” Penny said. “Lunara’s.”

  Kempy’s voice dropped. “I wonder why they call her the evil dragon god. There are no records about her. Just names… scribbled out of the archives.”

  An eerie howl echoed through the tomb.

  The air shifted.

  A giant two-headed wolf stood on all fours above the castle—looming, impossible, its eyes burning like judgment.

  “You defied my warning, little hatchlings.”

  One head fired a red beam.

  It struck Penny and knocked her unconscious instantly.

  The other head moved with terrifying speed—

  and bit down on Kempy.

  Tore her in half.

  Kempy’s screams rang through the old tomb before they cut off.

  Penny woke up.

  She saw it.

  She tried to move.

  She couldn’t.

  The giant wolf looked at Drakorya and Queen—

  but did not attack.

  Instead, it approached Queen, sniffed once, and its voice turned colder.

  “The scent of my child is on you.”

  Queen froze.

  “I’m going to give you time to explain,” the wolf said, “before I start trying to kill you and your mother.”

  Queen stuttered. “A-an inn. A boy… with a dog and a cat. He… he was able to turn into a wolf and a dragon.”

  The giant two-headed wolf shrank.

  Its body folded down into a smaller form—still large, but no longer towering. An eight-foot wolf, red and black, eyes sharp with memory.

  Penny’s body unlocked.

  She lashed at him—

  but the wolf spoke one word.

  “Sit.”

  Penny sat.

  She didn’t understand why she was obeying.

  The wolf’s voice was quiet now, but it carried the weight of old law.

  “My name is Vorath Nightfang,” he said. “The last wolf deity of the old. Lover to Lunara, the dark dragon deity.”

  His gaze pinned Queen.

  “Tell me,” Vorath said. “Is my child okay?”

  Queen looked at her mother, then back at him.

  “We’re not sure,” Queen admitted. “I didn’t have much contact with the boy who has the calamity book… with the yellow bracelets. But he was taken to the Elven Empire.”

  Vorath threw his head back and howled.

  The sound shook dust from the ceiling like the tomb was answering him.

  “Then that’s where I’ll be heading.”

  He transformed back into his giant two-headed wolf form and slowly walked away—each step a promise.

  Before he vanished, Vorath Nightfang looked back at Penny.

  “You are marked,” he said. “You better change your ways… or I’ll be coming for you.”

  His eyes flicked once toward the torn remains of Kempy.

  “Like your dragon friend.”

  Vorath Nightfang vanished