I stared at the four dragons, awe-struck, a thousand thoughts spiraling through my mind.

  Virellia... I don’t know what to do. I needed her guidance more than ever.

  “Only you can know which one feels right,” she replied softly. Her voice in my mind was a balm, steady and reassuring.

  My gaze drifted down to the field below, where young dragons chased one another through the grass, weaving between laughing Draconoi children. It felt… right. Peaceful.

  “I need a moment to think,” I finally said aloud.

  Lunetherion dipped his massive head. “Worry not, young one. Know this… your bond need not come from one of us elders.” His voice, though deep and guttural, held a gentle calm that surprised me.

  After a long pause, I looked back at them. “May I walk among your kind? Meet them, speak with them?”

  Crydran gave a small nod, the air around her rippling with warmth. “Hop on. I’ll take you to the brood.” I couldn’t see her smile, but I could feel it in her tone.

  She lowered herself and I climbed onto her back. With a beat of her powerful wings, we lifted from the platform and descended into the valley.

  As we landed, a group of young dragons and Draconoi children rushed toward her, giggling as they ran circles around her massive form. Their joy was infectious, until their eyes landed on me.

  They froze. Every one of them.

  Dozens of wide-eyed stares locked onto me, their expressions caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief.

  “Children,” Crydran said gently, sweeping her tail in a playful arc to herd them back, “it’s rude to stare.”

  She turned her gaze back to me. “Forgive them. You are the first outsider they’ve ever seen.”

  That caught me off guard. “Eessa never came down here?”

  Crydran let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “She was never permitted to visit the brood. She only met with us elders above.”

  I blinked, unsure how to respond. The implication hit hard. “I understand that this soul bond is considered an honor, but… why trust me?” I asked. “What if I had ill intentions? What if I became a greater threat than Eessa could ever be?”

  Crydran halted, slowly turning her head until one massive eye met mine.

  “This gift,” she said, her voice low and sure, “is proof. A sign from Jaq’Kuah himself that you are one who would never bring harm to our kind.”

  Then she turned forward and resumed walking, the conversation seemingly settled.

  I stared down at my hands for a moment, the words sinking in.

  “How does he still have power left to help me…?” I murmured, more to myself than to her.

  But Crydran said nothing. And deep inside, I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer.

  “I doubt this is something he just conjured up on a whim, James,” Virellia said gently. “I believe he put this into motion the night you and I met.”

  You think he planned all of this? I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.

  “I think he laid the foundation,” she replied. “Guiding you and our friends toward the strength you’ll need. But the path? The growth?” She paused, her voice soft but resolute. “That’s up to all of you.”

  I didn’t respond right away. There wasn’t anything I could say that wouldn’t cheapen what she just told me. Instead, I looked ahead, letting her words settle.

  We reached the mouth of a wide tunnel that sloped deeper into the mountain’s heart. Crydran paused, spread her wings, and reared back, then let out a thunderous roar that shook the very stone beneath my feet. The sound echoed through the tunnel like a storm trapped underground, ancient and commanding.

  Then she motioned with her head. “Down you go.”

  I nodded and jumped from her back, landing lightly on the smooth stone.

  Behind us, I could already hear the heavy footfalls of Lunetherion and the other elders making their approach. I glanced around and caught sight of Nyxala in the distance, darting back and forth with the younger dragons and Draconoi children. She let out a gleeful hum as one of the little ones clambered onto her back, and she zipped across the field with them, playful and proud.

  I smiled… until the sharp scrape of claws against stone pulled my attention back to the tunnel.

  The sound grew louder. Claws. Wings. Movement from the deep.

  And then they began to arrive.

  It was like watching a living kaleidoscope emerge from the tunnel, dragons of every hue and pattern, their scales gleaming like polished gemstones under the soft mountain light. Some were adorned in deep sapphire blues, others in blazing golds, rich greens, or stormy silvers. A few bore stark, stunning patterns of black and white, like walking shadows kissed by moonlight.

  But one didn’t belong.

  Not because it was larger, or smaller, or more imposing than the others.

  Because it was different.

  Its scales shimmered with every color imaginable, constantly shifting like oil on water, no pattern, no repetition, just a dance of prismatic brilliance with every breath it took. It stood near the back, away from the others, not in line, not presenting itself.

  It is almost as if it were trying not to be seen.

  My eyes found it instantly, locked to it before I could even process what I was looking at.

  While the others moved into formation at the elders’ quiet command, lining up in a slow, orderly procession for introductions, this one remained still. It kept its head low, its wings tucked tight against its body, eyes averted.

  Like it was trying to hide… or was unsure if it belonged at all.

  And yet… I couldn’t look away.

  Hours passed like slow-turning seasons, and still the line of dragons continued.

  Each one approached in turn, offering their name, a respectful gesture, and a glimpse of their temperament. Some bowed low with elegant grace, others puffed their chests and gave thunderous names meant to inspire awe. A few were so young they tripped over their own talons or stammered nervously when they spoke. I did my best to greet each one with the same patience and kindness, even as fatigue crept into my bones.

  There were memorable moments, like the charcoal-scaled drake who refused to speak at all, opting instead to draw his name in the dirt with one long, clawed toe. Another, a deep green dragoness with eyes like polished onyx, greeted me with a phrase in a language I didn’t recognize before dipping her head with regal precision.

  Some dragons radiated pride. Others, curiosity. One offered me a glimmering scale as a token of respect, apparently a big deal, if the murmurs from the others were anything to go by.

  But as the line began to thin, I felt it. A shift.

  The energy changed.

  The chatter between the others dulled. The elders, once patient and warm in their encouragements, grew silent. Whispers rose between a few dragons near the end of the line, subtle and sharp.

  That’s when I noticed the space at the very back. One dragon remained apart, still partially concealed in the shadows where the tunnel met the chamber wall. The only one that hadn’t moved. The prismatic one.

  Its scales shimmered like starlight through a prism, radiant and alive, but its posture remained tight, folded in on itself. It hadn’t stepped forward. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even looked at me.

  It seemed as if the others were beginning to stand around it, hide it, possibly looked to even push the poor dragon back into the tunnels.

  “Was that the last of them?” Crydran asked, her eyes narrowing as she peered into the tunnel.

  One of the larger dragons turned toward Crydran, his voice low and rasping. “Any others are out hunting,” said Brolique, the orange-scaled one who’d spent more time watching Nyxala play with the children than engaging with me.

  Lunetherion shifted beside me, perhaps preparing to speak, but he paused when he noticed the way I stared down the tunnel. From his angle, he likely couldn’t see what I was seeing. But he felt the tension.

  I took a slow breath, then turned to face the group.

  “Why do you hide that one from me?” I asked, voice steady. “What has that dragon done to be treated this way?”

  My eyes met each of theirs in turn.

  No one answered.

  But the silence was deafening.

  Drazkhar followed my gaze, stepping around behind me to get a better angle into the shadows of the tunnel. Her voice echoed through the chamber, sharp and clear.

  “Solphyras. Why do you hide, and why are the rest of you forcing him deeper into the tunnels?”

  There was a pause. Just long enough for discomfort to settle.

  Then one of the dragons I barely remembered from earlier stepped forward. Her scales were a dull grey, her tone even duller, until it turned sharp with disdain.

  “He is no warrior,” she hissed. “He is a coward.”

  The words hung in the air like poison.

  All four elders turned, their gazes whipping back in unison. Even Crydran’s expression hardened.

  “And what has he done to earn such a title?” Zynthrael demanded, his voice low but laced with cold steel.

  The grey dragon stiffened beneath Zynthrael’s gaze. “He refuses to spar with any of us,” she said, her tone defensive now. “Claims it’s because he might harm us. As if we’re made of glass. He speaks like he belongs in the stars, not these mountains.”

  Another younger dragon snapped, “He won’t even retaliate when provoked! I tried to bait him, nothing. Just sat there and watched.”

  “Pretends he’s the strongest,” a third scoffed. “Talks like he sees more than we ever could but never lifts a claw to prove it. Just a coward’s bluster.”

  “Is this true, Solphyras?” Lunetherion asked, his ancient eyes narrowing. “Do you believe yourself stronger than the others?”

  The crowd of dragons parted slowly, like mist peeling back from moonlight, revealing the one they’d tried to hide.

  Solphyras stood tall now, though his head remained bowed. His scales shimmered with shifting hues, no longer just a curiosity, but something breathtaking, something unnatural. And for the first time, he met no one’s gaze.

  Then he spoke.

  His voice rolled through the cavern like distant thunder, deep and smooth, resonant with something ancient. It wasn’t loud… but it didn’t need to be. It reached into your chest and settled there.

  “They call me false,” he said. “But ask them this: in all their goading, all their attempts to provoke me… has even one of them ever managed to land a blow?”

  Silence. Utter, damning silence.

  I stared, waiting for someone, anyone, to challenge his words.

  As I waited, I studied Solphyras.

  It was the first time I’d truly seen him, no longer hidden in the shadows or bowing beneath the weight of the others’ judgment. His form shimmered with impossible beauty, his scales like fragments of a shattered nebula, each one dancing with light as if the stars themselves had embedded into his skin. Deep ocean blues, soft purples, shimmering starlight, all shifted and pulsed like a living constellation.

  His eyes…

  Gods, his eyes.

  They burned with ethereal light, not fire, not magic, but something older, something cosmic. It crackled at the edges with purple flares, like a dying star clinging to its last breath, and I couldn’t tell if it was rage or sorrow buried in that gaze.

  The horns that curled from his skull weren’t jagged or crude, they were regal, aged like polished stone, as if they had witnessed epochs. And across his cheeks, where a normal dragon might bear battle scars or the wear of age, were trails of glowing celestial veins, crackling through the skin like lightning trapped beneath glass.

  “He speaks truth,” said the dragon who had offered me her scale earlier. Her voice was unwavering. “Any who deny his words may face me in battle, and I will strike you down in his place.” She stepped forward, her stance fierce and unyielding, placing herself at Solphyras’s side with a low growl. Her black-scaled chest rose with pride, and her pure white eyes glared across the crowd, daring anyone to challenge her.

  The others recoiled. None stepped forward. Her presence alone seemed to push them back.

  “I would like to speak with you, Solphyras,” I said, my voice soft, gentle.

  He began to move, slowly, cautiously, as if unsure he was truly allowed. But the moment he took his first step, three nearby dragons surged toward him, their rage boiling over.

  They never reached him.

  In the same heartbeat, I was there. Between them and Solphyras. My shield raised, planted like a wall.

  My voice rang through the chamber, thunderous and sharp. “Stand down. Now!”

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  Dust billowed out in all directions, stirred by the sudden burst of movement. As it cleared, the silence returned, heavier this time. All eyes turned to me, frozen in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

  Nyxala hovered at my right, her scales lit with furious energy, fins flared like a storm on the rise. And to my left, the black-scaled dragoness, the one who had defended Solphyras first, bared her fangs.

  “You so much as twitch,” she snarled, her voice low and lethal, “and I will crush every bone in your body.”

  The three dragons shrank back, cowering without another word. I’d like to think it was Nyxala and myself that caused the fear in their eyes, but in truth, I knew better. It was Nyverra.

  The towering black dragoness stood beside me like a living storm, her eyes blazing white and unblinking. Her presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier. Even I could feel it.

  I turned, facing Solphyras fully now. “Why do you cower like this,” I asked, “if their attacks are so weak to you?”

  He met my gaze, the cosmic glow at the corners of his eyes flaring, as if emotion had stirred the stars within them. “It is not as if I am invincible,” he said, his voice cool, steady, sharp.

  “I didn’t say you were,” I replied, not backing down. “But why don’t you fight back?”

  His gaze drifted, sweeping across the gathered dragons before landing back on me. For a moment, the brilliance of his scales dimmed ever so slightly.

  “Because I fear I would hurt them,” he said.

  There was no arrogance in his tone. No pride. Just quiet honesty.

  I took a slow breath, my expression softening. “That’s part of what it means to spar, my friend,” I said gently. “It’s not about domination. It’s about trust. About growth. None of us like to fight… but we do what we must to protect each other. To survive. To become strong enough to ensure others don’t have to.”

  “You act as if I don’t know this,” Solphyras snapped, his voice rising with sudden heat. “It’s not my claws, my tail, or my strength that makes me hesitate in a sparring match. It’s my flame.”

  His tone softened at the end, but the weight of his words hung in the air.

  “His flame is… different,” said one of the smaller dragons, stepping hesitantly forward.

  Nyverra nodded. “It’s unlike any other dragon fire I’ve witnessed,” she added, her voice steady.

  “Many of us possess unique flames,” Crydran offered gently. “Mine freezes rather than burns.”

  Lunetherion approached, his heavy steps echoing across the stone. “Indeed. Fire, frost, lightning, wind, shadow, light, we are creatures of many elements.”

  “I know, Elder,” Solphyras said quietly, his eyes flickering. “But mine… it isn’t like yours. It doesn’t fit any element I’ve ever known.”

  “Then show us,” Zynthrael said, his voice low but commanding. “Let us see this flame you guard so closely.”

  A larger dragon stepped aside, his wings brushing the cavern wall. “Clear the way,” he rumbled. “Let us see it for ourselves.”

  “I can’t…” Solphyras began.

  “You will,” Crydran cut in, her voice sharp as a blade. The warmth she’d shown earlier was gone now, replaced with a firm, ancient authority. “No more hiding. We’ve let you shrink for too long.”

  Solphyras lowered his head, his breath slow and trembling. I stepped forward, resting my hand gently against the shimmering curve of his snout.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said softly. “It’s okay. Don’t fear who you are. Don’t let pride rule you, but don’t be ashamed of your strength either. The time for hiding… it’s over.”

  The words settled into the quiet like snow falling. I felt the shift in him, subtle at first, then undeniable.

  He exhaled slowly, then began to rise.

  And rise.

  For the first time, Solphyras stood to his full height.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd.

  He towered above the others, second only to Lunetherion himself. Taller than any young dragon had a right to be. Power coiled in his frame, restrained and patient. He had been holding himself back so fully that none of them, not even the elders, had realized just how massive he was.

  His wings unfurled with a whisper, stretching wide like curtains of living starlight. The colors along his scales danced in breathtaking waves, prismatic and alive, each movement refracting like a thousand galaxies rippling down his form.

  He reared his head back, his chest rising with a deep inhale that echoed like a gathering storm. The air around him began to shimmer, rippling with invisible force.

  Then, with a roar that shook the mountain itself, Solphyras thrust his head forward.

  From his maw erupted not fire… but cosmic fury.

  A torrent of energy tore through the air, not flame in any familiar sense, but a writhing stream of destruction, woven from the fabric of the void itself. Stars blinked within the blaze, entire galaxies spiraling and collapsing inside the torrent as if time and space were unraveling in his breath.

  The ground beneath him cracked from the sheer force.

  The light wasn’t just brilliant, it was unnatural, otherworldly. Hues no mortal eyes were meant to perceive twisted through the stream, pulsing with overwhelming pressure.

  It wasn’t elemental. It was existential.

  Every dragon present recoiled, not from fear of the heat, but from the overwhelming presence of it. This wasn’t something to warm a den or light a battlefield.

  This was the flame of annihilation. Of creation undone.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had come, he snapped his jaws shut.

  The mountain fell still. The light faded.

  And silence reigned.

  The blast had lasted only seconds.

  But the land would remember it forever.

  Where the flame had touched, the stone was no longer stone, it had been rewritten. The ground directly before Solphyras was fused into a smooth obsidian-glass basin, stretching nearly fifty feet across. Shimmering motes of light hovered just above its surface, like fragments of dying stars refusing to let go.

  Cracks spiderwebbed from the epicenter, etched not with fire or heat, but gravity, as if space itself had folded inward and stitched itself wrong.

  No smoke rose. No ash lingered. Nothing had burned.

  It had simply… ceased.

  Even the air shimmered where the flame had passed, particles suspended unnaturally, as if uncertain whether they were meant to fall or float. A few scorched trees that had lined the cavern wall nearby were now frozen mid-collapse, their edges outlined in silver-blue embers that didn’t flicker or fade, they just were, as if reality struggled to finish the thought.

  The silence was different now.

  Not the stillness of awe.

  But of reverence.

  Even the youngest dragons who moments before jostled with pride or disdain now stood utterly still, as if they had glimpsed something ancient and sacred, something that wasn’t meant to exist within a mortal world.

  Solphyras lowered his head, no longer in shame, but in humility.

  And no one dared to speak.

  I stepped forward, then turned to every dragon who still stood in shock at the damage before them.

  "I would say you are all very lucky he never did attack any of you," I said plainly before turning my gaze back to Solphyras. "I would like to speak with you privately, if that would be alright."

  I barely finished the sentence before Nyxala nudged me with her snout, letting out a sharp, irritated hum. I laughed. "Correction, Nyxala and I would like to speak with you."

  Solphyras looked back toward the elders. Unlike the stunned brood, the elders were calm, their expressions unreadable, as if they had known all along.

  Lunetherion finally broke the silence. "It is about time you displayed your true strength to the brood. Now go and speak with our guest. I believe he has something exceptional to offer you."

  In all of this, not once had the elders revealed who I was or why I was truly here. I realized now, they wanted to see how their brood would treat a stranger. How they would judge someone they believed to be unimportant. Maybe they feared the competition that might’ve followed had the truth been laid bare.

  Solphyras looked back at me, brow furrowing slightly. "What could he possibly offer…?"

  “Go and find out,” Drazkhar said, her voice firm, almost maternal.

  “…Yes, Mother,” Solphyras replied, bowing low so Nyxala and I could climb onto his back.

  He took flight, rising with effortless grace. His wings stretched wide, shimmering like starlight poured over water. He carried us out to the same plateau where I'd first met Crydran. The landing was soft, the descent careful, controlled. Nyxala and I dismounted as the winds settled, and I turned to face him.

  The sunlight struck his scales, revealing layers of color I hadn’t seen within the mountain. With the rich violets and deep blues. Golds and reds all wove into the prismatic glow that radiated from his form.

  "When I came here," I began, "I thought this gift I carry would be a burden. Something too heavy to offer a dragon. But from what I’ve been told, it’s considered one of the greatest honors."

  I paused, then met his eyes.

  "Tell me, Solphyras. Do you truly believe you belong among the stars?"

  He lifted his gaze to the sky, as if trying to pierce the clouds and see what lay beyond. Or maybe he already could. "I do," he answered, voice low.

  "Have you heard of the battle that rages beyond these mountains? Beyond this world… this system?"

  His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing with focus. "Yes."

  I took a breath. "Have you heard of the Void Empress?"

  He nodded once. A flash passed through his eyes, faint but unmistakable.

  “You ask a lot of questions,” he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. “But you’ve yet to say what this great honor is.”

  “Last question, then,” I said, raising a hand to halt him. “Do you know what a Dragon’s Soul Bond is?”

  The moment I spoke the words; something shifted in him.

  His head recoiled as if struck, not in aggression, but disbelief. His wings shifted; his breathing changed.

  “You would offer that?” he asked, stunned. “Why not offer it to one of the elders? Someone proven?”

  I shook my head, stepping closer. “Because even before your display, even before anyone else saw your power, I felt drawn to you.”

  He hesitated, scales subtly rippling with emotion. "Then why wait until after the display to offer it?"

  "Because you needed to stop fearing yourself first. You needed to see what everyone else saw today. Your own strength."

  His gaze lowered for a moment, contemplative. The tension in his shoulders eased, not entirely, but enough.

  And in the silence that followed, something unspoken passed between us, weightless yet immense.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to bond with one of the more... combat-experienced dragons?” Solphyras asked, his tone almost hesitant.

  I smiled, turning my gaze toward the mountainside, where I knew my friends waited below. “I think strength isn’t always about brute force,” I said. “What we each bring to this, your knowledge, your power, and my will to push forward, together, it could become something even the Empress herself would come to fear.”

  His eyes followed mine, settling on the horizon. “Besides,” I added with a smirk, “I’ve got an incredible group of friends down there. We grow stronger together.”

  Solphyras was quiet for a beat, then looked back to me, eyes shimmering like fractured light. “If you wish to honor me with this bond,” he said softly, “then I will not dishonor you by refusing.”

  And just like that, it was done.

  In that very moment, something ancient stirred, an agreement made not through words, but through soul.

  The world shifted.

  In the blink of an eye, the mountain, the sky, the wind, it all vanished. We stood now in the radiant expanse of Virellia’s realm, a place of light and endless stars. The air hummed with power.

  Virellia appeared in her true form, luminous and serene, her presence wrapping around us like a warm current.

  “Hello, Solphyras,” she greeted, her voice like a chorus sung through the stars. “It is a pleasure to welcome you into this bond.”

  Solphyras bowed deeply, his tone reverent. “The pleasure is mine.”

  He turned to me, confusion flickering in his expression. “What do we…”

  But before the question could finish, our eyes met.

  And the pull began.

  A force unseen surged upward, lifting all three of us into the air, me, Solphyras, and Virellia, caught in a spiral of energy that pulsed with something older than time. The bond had begun.

  As the force took hold, the air around us twisted, light bending, color bleeding into the edges of reality like spilled ink in water. We rose together, suspended in a gravity that wasn't physical, pulled by something older than time. The sky of Virellia’s realm fractured above us, revealing not stars, but memories.

  Mine.

  His.

  Hers.

  All of them.

  They spiraled around us in glittering ribbons, threads of gold, blue, violet, and black, each one a flicker of pasts lived, and choices made. Faces blurred by time danced within those ribbons, moments of joy, pain, love, and loss folding in on one another. A battlefield under a red moon. A clutch of eggs cradled beneath shimmering wings. A mother’s laugh. A final breath. Forgotten dreams. Echoes of purpose.

  And through it all, our souls wove together.

  Not forcefully. Not painfully, but elegantly.

  Each strand of memory found its mirror in the other. His fear and my determination. My loss and his wisdom. His longing and my purpose. They twisted like a double helix of light, tethering two lives into one soul.

  A pulse thundered through the space, not heard, but felt. Like the heartbeat of a god. It shook the realm. The light flared.

  Virellia hovered above us now, her body unfolding like a radiant bloom of energy, arms wide, her expression both proud and reverent.

  “This,” she whispered, her voice echoing across every plane of existence, “is the convergence of flame and will. Star and soul. Flesh and eternity.”

  Solphyras roared, not in pain, but in awakening.

  His body ignited, not with fire, but with the shimmer of cosmic radiance. His wings exploded outward, trailing galaxies in their wake, and from within his chest, a new flame bloomed, one I felt more than saw. It wasn’t heat. It was truth. It was creation. It was the first breath of a star.

  Then I, too, burned, not consumed, but elevated.

  My armor pulsed with golden-blue veins, every rune lighting in sequence like the activation of a divine machine. The halo behind me flared wide, a luminous ring of energy not born of magic, but of unity. My heart surged with power, and in it, I felt him, not beside me, not within me, but me. And I was him.

  The final moment came with silence.

  A single blink, and then I touched down again, not falling, not landing, but arriving. Changed.

  The air was still. The realm of Virellia shimmered with gentle light, but something fundamental had shifted.

  I stood beneath that endless sky…

  And I stood alone.

  Solphyras was no longer beside me.

  Because he was within me.

  The bond had not joined two souls in harmony. It had folded one into the other. His memories, his strength, his fears, and his fire, all of it now flowed in me. Not like a second presence whispering from the corners of my mind…

  But as if I had always been him.

  And he had always been me.

  I didn’t just remember his life, I remembered living it. The shape of the wind beneath his wings. The ache of loneliness. The wonder of starlight on scale. The tremor of holding back too much power for too long.

  Solphyras lived on, but not as himself.

  As me.

  And I… had become something far more than I was before.

  Bound by memory. Strengthened by understanding. And reforged in the starlight of the soul.

  I looked down at my hands.

  Nothing.

  No glow. No flame. No change in skin or form. Just… me.

  “Virellia?” I asked aloud.

  She appeared in a shimmer of light, her form more vivid than ever.

  “I am here, James,” she said, calm and radiant.

  “Do I look…” I trailed off as she shook her head before I could even finish the thought.

  My brow furrowed. I pulled up my stats.

  Still me. Still James. Not a single number different.

  “Nothing changed,” I muttered.

  And then, light.

  The world pulsed and bent. In a single breath, the realm vanished, and I was back on the plateau beneath the open sky. A breeze whispered past, cool and steady, as a new notification flared before me in searing brilliance.

  Your race has been evolved!

  RACE

  IGNIVUS PRIME (DRAGON BONDED) – Forged in the heart of a dying star, your mortal form has been reforged into something greater. You are a being of celestial fire, a beacon of cosmic radiance that cannot be extinguished. The power of a supergiant pulses through your very being, setting the battlefield alight with your presence. You are not just seen, you are felt.

  RACIAL BONUSES:

  Living Starplate – Your very existence generates a natural armor. Gain an innate 10% increase to maximum armor at all times.

  Emberborn Might – Your melee strikes are imbued with celestial fire, dealing an additional 10% fire damage with every hit.

  Ecliptic Halo – A celestial ring hovers behind you, an extension of your being. It grants immense movement speed and controlled flight, but flight is only available outside of combat.

  Dragon’s Shift – You may shift between humanoid and dragon form at will. Current cooldown: 7 hours. Cooldown reduces with each ascension.

  RACIAL DRAWBACK: Beacon of the Heavens – Stealth is no longer an option. Your body constantly radiates pulsating light, making you impossible to miss in darkness. At night, enemies feel an unnatural pull toward you, increasing their aggression and making it even harder for them to ignore you in battle.

  Before I could even think about shifting, the four elders landed around me in a sudden gust of wind and reverence.

  “I can’t see him,” Drazkhar said softly, her voice trembling, “but I can still feel his presence.”

  The words slipped from my mouth before I even realized I was speaking. Natural. Instinctual.

  “Mother, I’ll be fine. I’m still here… not forgotten. Please tell Nyverra I’ll miss her. She was always kind to me.”

  A single tear slid down Drazkhar’s massive cheek, catching the light like a falling star. Her head lowered, trembling.

  “Will you shift?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Just once. Let me see my child’s face… before you go.”

  I smiled.

  “I was just about to.”

  In a heartbeat, the change swept over me.

  One blink, and suddenly, I was no longer looking up at the dragons. I was towering beside them. No longer James alone. No longer Solphyras, either.

  I was both. I was more.

  Before I could even admire the form I now wore, before I could marvel at what I had become, a new notification appeared before my eyes.

  [Starlit Eclipser] now fully bonded! Congratulations Adventurer!

  [Starlit Eclipser] will bond with your being!

  Suddenly, a sheen of golden light shimmered over my entire form, briefly radiant, then fading as if it had never been there at all.

  I resisted the urge to look down, to inspect myself. Instead, I raised my eyes to meet hers, no, my mother’s.

  “Though the reds in your scales have grown slightly more prominent,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “and that strange halo still hovers behind you… you still look exactly like my son.”

  “Because I am,” I replied softly. “Every memory. Every moment spent with you as a youngling, it's all there.”

  Those memories surged forward.

  I saw her chasing me across the fields, my younger self screeching in mock terror, giggling uncontrollably as I ran. I remembered curling under her wing on stormy nights, her warm breath and the deep rumble of her chest lulling me to sleep. I felt it all, safety, love, and comfort. Not like recalling a story… but like I was living it again.

  She wrapped her long neck around mine, drawing me into a tender embrace.

  “I will miss you, my son,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  “And I you, Mother,” I replied, the strangeness of it gone, replaced by a quiet truth. It felt right. It was right.

  When we finally parted, I turned to take in my new form fully for the first time.

  Just as she’d said, I still looked like Solphyras, my scales bore the same elegant shape and curve, but there was a deeper red glint to them now, a subtle flame beneath the surface. The halo hovering behind me was larger in this form, pulsing with soft celestial light. Not a symbol of burden, but of change.

  I turned toward the horizon, the direction where my friends waited. “I must return to them now. I must keep getting stronger.”

  Then I looked at the elders once more. “I’ll try to visit when I can, but…”

  “You must focus on your duties first,” Lunetherion interrupted gently, his deep voice firm but understanding.

  The others nodded in silent agreement.

  I gave a solemn nod in return, then stepped to the edge of the cliff and looked down the mountain side.

  No fear lingered in my chest, not anymore.

  The instinct was there, natural and effortless. The memories of a thousand flights surged forward, as if I’d always known how to take to the skies.

  I crouched low, my wings folding tight.

  Then, with a single bound and a powerful sweep of my wings, I soared into the air, weightless, free, whole.

  And with a roar of pure exhilaration, I flew.