Osireon — Guest Room

  Isaac sat in a real chair like he actually belonged in it—royal clothes, sleeves clean, shoulders finally loose. His head rested back for a second, eyes half-lidded, like his body was still trying to catch up to everything that happened.

  Yu was sprawled on the bed on her stomach, chin on her arms, watching him without blinking. Not sleepy anymore. Just… reading him.

  Yu: “So you’re telling me you couldn’t call me. Not even once. In that ‘New World’.”

  Isaac: “I tried.”

  “It was like shouting into a wall. Nothing. No answer. No pull. Like you couldn’t hear me.”

  Yu’s brows tightened.

  Yu: “That doesn’t make sense.”

  She tapped the mattress once, annoyed. “Even if I was tired. Even if I was sleeping. If you call me like you always do… I wake up.”

  Isaac: “I know.”

  He let out a slow breath. “That’s why it messed with my head.”

  Yu lifted her face a little, eyes narrowing.

  Yu: “Did it feel… blocked?”

  Isaac hesitated, searching for the right word.

  Isaac: “It felt… empty.”

  He rubbed his palm over his thigh. “Like the connection wasn’t there. Like I was alone again.”

  Yu went quiet at that. For a second her expression softened—just a crack—then she covered it with a small scoff.

  Yu: “Alone. Right.”

  She stared at him. “And you didn’t die?”

  Isaac gave a tired, humorless smile.

  Isaac: “I got close.”

  Yu’s gaze sharpened again, jealous and sharp in the same breath.

  Yu: “And Amanda was with you.”

  Isaac looked up.

  Isaac: “She was the reason I got back.”

  Yu’s jaw flexed. She didn’t argue. Not yet. She just held his eyes like she wanted to pull the whole story out of him by force.

  Yu: “Still.”

  She sat up a little on the bed. “Me not answering you… that’s wrong.”

  Isaac nodded once.

  Isaac: “I think I know why.”

  He leaned forward, finally lifting his head fully. “You’re not just a sword. You’re you. A dragon. You’re… heavy.” He chose the word carefully. “Not weight—power. Presence.”

  Yu didn’t blink.

  Isaac: “In that place, I was barely anything. No sun like Paradise. No power to feed the bond. So when I called… it wasn’t enough to reach you.”

  Yu’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t look offended. She looked… thoughtful. Like she hated that it made sense.

  Yu: “So I’m too much for a weak Isaac.”

  Isaac: “That’s not what I said.”

  Yu: “That’s exactly what you said.”

  Isaac stood up, stretching his shoulders like he was shaking off the last few days.

  Isaac: “I’m saying it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  He turned to her, steady. “We’re back. You’re here. I can hear you. You can hear me.”

  Yu watched him for a long moment, then her voice dropped—quieter, more serious than she liked to show.

  Yu: “If it happens again…”

  Isaac: “It won’t.”

  Yu: “Don’t promise things you can’t control.”

  She slid off the bed and walked closer, stopping just short of him. “If you end up somewhere like that again… you don’t act like you’re alone. You fight like you’re coming back to me.”

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  Isaac held her gaze.

  Isaac: “I did.”

  Yu stared at him like she wanted to argue—then didn’t. Instead, she leaned in just slightly, close enough that he could feel her breath.

  Yu: “Good.”

  Isaac exhaled, the tension in his chest easing.

  Isaac: “Either way… we’re leaving Osireon.”

  He nodded toward the door. “I want distance from anything that looks like a portal.”

  Yu’s mouth curled, satisfied.

  Yu: “Finally. Something I agree with.”

  Isaac took one step toward the door, then paused—glancing back at her.

  Isaac: “And Yu?”

  Yu: “Hm?”

  Isaac: “Next time you’re ‘tired’…”

  His eyes flicked to her, dry. “Warn me.”

  Yu’s eyes went wide for half a second—then she scoffed like she didn’t care.

  Yu: “Shut up.”

  But the corner of her mouth twitched, and she followed him anyway.

  Osireon — Royal Palace — Meeting Chamber

  (Some time later)

  Isaac sat at the end of the long table, posture calm, eyes cold. Behind him, Yu and Anabelle stood like shadows that didn’t blink.

  Across from him, Lord Oceros sat with his sages and advisers clustered close—whispers, ink, and practiced smiles.

  Oceros: “So, King Isaac… you’re trying to make Verdantia part of Olympia.”

  Isaac: “No.”

  He didn’t even flinch. “I want Verdantia independent. I have no interest in owning that land.”

  A few advisers traded looks.

  Oceros: “Then why do it?”

  Isaac: “A promise.”

  He paused. “And because the woman leading it deserves the chance.”

  Oceros studied him for a beat longer than polite.

  Oceros: “This leader… who is she?”

  Isaac: “Elara. An elf.”

  One of the sages let out a quiet scoff before catching himself.

  Oceros: “An elf ruling a nation in a continent full of bestials?”

  Isaac leaned forward slightly, voice still even.

  Isaac: “Let’s be honest, Lord Oceros. Verdantia used to be a swamp nobody valued.”

  He tapped the table once, soft. “People didn’t want to step near it, much less build anything there. Elara was the one who embraced that land and its people when no one else would.”

  His eyes didn’t leave Oceros. “And the people returned it. Even if she’s an elf.”

  The room went quiet in that tight way—like everyone was calculating what side of history they’d be on.

  Oceros: “I understand.”

  He folded his hands. “You know you need signatures from the major kings on this continent to legitimize it.”

  Isaac: “I do.”

  Oceros leaned back in his chair, the picture of comfort.

  Oceros: “Let’s say I sign.”

  A small smile. “What do I gain?”

  Yu’s expression didn’t change, but the air around her sharpened.

  Isaac: “What do you really want?”

  Oceros stood and walked toward the window, staring out at the horizon as if it held answers.

  Oceros: “Dragons have ruled this continent for a long time.”

  Isaac’s tone stayed controlled, but a warning threaded through it.

  Isaac: “Careful with your words, Lord Oceros. Yamato isn’t a fool.”

  Oceros laughed under his breath and turned back, walking closer—too close—until he was speaking like this was between kings, not a room full of witnesses.

  Oceros: “I don’t want war, Isaac. Not like my father.”

  His eyes flicked to Yu for half a second, then back to Isaac. “I want security.”

  He lowered his voice, like it was common sense.

  Oceros: “How many times have you heard that dragons can’t be trusted?”

  Yu didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched him the way a predator watches someone forget they’re prey.

  Oceros: “They’re proud. Severe. Untouchable.”

  He returned to the table, took the document, and signed with a steady hand. The scratch of the quill sounded louder than it should have.

  Oceros: “I hope that one day—when things truly change, and the dragons finally grow tired of everyone…”

  He slid the paper forward. “The people of Osireon can stand under the protection of your crown.”

  Isaac stared at the signature, then at Oceros.

  Isaac: “That’s what this is.”

  Oceros’s smile faded into something heavier.

  Oceros: “Believe me…”

  A quiet certainty. “It won’t take long.”

  He sat back down, composed again, as if he hadn’t just revealed a knife under the table.

  Oceros: “Now that you have my signature, I wish you luck… and a safe journey, King Isaac.”

  Isaac stood. Yu and Anabelle moved with him—silent, perfectly timed.

  Isaac: “Thank you, Lord Oceros.”

  A pause, polite but firm. “I hope we meet again.”

  Oceros: “As do I.”

  He inclined his head. “Farewell.”

  Isaac turned and walked out with his guards at his back.

  Oceros stayed seated, watching until the doors closed—until the echo died—until the room felt like his again.

  Osireon — Border

  Anabelle hurried up behind him, cloak snapping in the wind.

  Anabelle: “My king… we received a message about your safety. From Mia and Freya.”

  Isaac didn’t stop walking.

  Isaac: “Send back our situation. Tell them I’m heading to Valoon now.”

  Anabelle: “Yes, my king.”

  She hesitated. “I’ll prepare the soldiers so we leave by ship—”

  Isaac: “No.” He finally looked at her. “I’m going alone.”

  Anabelle’s eyes widened.

  Anabelle: “What? My king, I—”

  Isaac: “I won’t be long in Valoon.”

  His voice softened just enough to feel real. “I’m flying. And you hate flying.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. He was right. She hated it.

  Isaac: “Go to Tritonix. Wait for me there.”

  A beat. “I promise I won’t take long.”

  Anabelle exhaled, frustrated, but she didn’t argue again. Not with that look in his eyes.

  Anabelle: “Yes, my king…”

  Her voice dropped. “Please. Don’t take too long.”

  Isaac gave her a small smile and tapped her shoulder—quick, familiar, the closest thing he had to comfort.

  Then he stepped back, and the air snapped.

  A streak upward. Wind and dust, and he was already a shadow against the sky, cutting toward Valoon.

  Anabelle watched until he disappeared into the distance.

  She turned sharply, jaw tight, and walked toward the ship.

  And hoping that “I won’t take long” didn’t mean “I won’t come back.”