I woke up to the soft creak of wood and faint sunlight slipping through the cracks in the ceiling. My whole body ached, like I'd been rolled downhill in a barrel. The memories of last night were blurry but sharp enough to remind me of how much of a mess things had been.

  I sat up slowly, my hand instinctively going to my side, where a dull pain throbbed. “Great,” I muttered, grimacing. “Another souvenir from last night.”

  Looking around the room, I realized it wasn’t much of a place—a makeshift bed, a chair, and a desk with a basin of water. The air smelled faintly of herbs, and I could hear the soft murmurs of people moving outside. I touched my cheek, where Veyra’s hand had kindly introduced itself. Even the memory of her teasing made me groan.

  I rubbed my temples as the events of last night played out in my head.

  Daryn had pulled out every trick in the book, including conjuring a massive fireball that had made the warehouse feel like it was moments away from melting. But then Veyra had shown up. She didn’t just stop the fireball—she outright erased it like it was some weak campfire.

  Maybe she used some special magic other than fire to do it. Is there a type of magic that can cancel out the others? That would be very useful, gotta tell Sylas and Mira about this.

  Veyra’s expression had been calm, almost bored, as Daryn scrambled to keep up. He never stood a chance. Before he could even lift his arm, she knocked him out with a single strike. I’d been impressed, sure, but mostly I’d been exhausted. The drakonian soldiers had swarmed in, helping me and my friends up and patching us up.

  And then there was Veyra.

  Even as I looked like I’d been through a hurricane, she managed to lean in close and smirk. “Still alive, huh?” she’d said, her voice laced with mock concern. “For someone who talks like they’re strong, you sure went down fast.”

  I didn’t remember exactly what I said back—it wasn’t one of my best comebacks—but I did remember the blush that crossed her face. And the slap. Oh, that slap. She had knocked me flat before I could even blink.

  Shaking off the memory, I swung my legs off the bed, got dressed, and wrapped my scarf around my neck. Something felt… off. My weapons are still at Jorven’s forge. That absence gnawed at me, making my fingers itch, but I decided to deal with it later. For now, I had to find my friends.

  Stepping outside, I found myself in what looked like a refugee camp. The air was filled with the faint scent of damp wood and herbs, and rows of tents stretched out, though not many people were here. Just me, my friends—somewhere—and a handful of unlucky souls caught in last night’s fight.

  Where was everyone?

  I wandered around, peering into tents and looking for familiar faces, but all I got were a few polite nods from strangers. There weren’t any adults to ask, and the few soldiers I saw were too busy with their own tasks. The lack of answers set me on edge.

  The streets outside were quieter than I expected. The spires of the palace loomed in the distance, reminding me of the trial from 2 days ago. A chill ran down my spine. Too many memories, too much chaos. My stomach growled, pulling me back to the present.

  I stopped at a small stall and handed over a few coins for a bowl of soup that smelled like it had seen better days. The broth was warm, though, and the chunks of boar meat and vegetables were enough to keep me going. As I ate, my mind wandered back to Vaelrik’s house and how to get there. Are Mira and Kyla okay? Where’s Kaldor?

  Just as I finished the last spoonful, movement caught my eye.

  Two soldiers, their polished armor gleaming in the sun, were walking toward me. No—walking wasn’t the right word. They were heading straight for me, and their pace was picking up.

  My heart sank. What did I do? I did pay for the soup right? Hey, hey, don’t tell me it were fake coins.

  I glanced back, trying to think of an escape route, but when I looked forward again, they were already flying. In seconds, they landed right in front of me, blocking my path.

  “Wait!” I blurted, raising my hands defensively. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Whatever it is, it’s not my fault, I swear!”

  The two soldiers exchanged a glance, one of them quirking an eyebrow. “Relax, kid,” the taller one said, his voice deep and calm. “We’re not here to arrest you.”

  I blinked, lowering my hands slightly. “Then… what are you here for?”

  The other soldier crossed his arms, his expression serious. “The council has summoned you. We’re here to escort you.”

  My stomach twisted. “The council?” My voice came out more nervous than I’d like. “What does the council want with me?”

  The taller soldier shrugged. “Don’t know. We just deliver the messages. But you’d better not keep them waiting.”

  I stepped once again into the Dragna palace, this place clearly hasn’t changed much. Still, I was surprised the amount of workers here in the early morning. We walked together to the court and didn’t say anything other than their work last night.

  Basically, they had to stay up for the rest of the night to clean up the debris and help the nearby citizens. Make sense, since my plan took place in midnight.

  The grand doors of the palace loomed ahead, each step forward carrying a weight I couldn't quite place. It had only been 2 days since I was here, yet it felt like an eternity.

  The guards who escort me part way as they nod toward the 2 guards standing at each side of the doors. As the guards on either side pushed the ornate doors open, the creak of wood gave way to a flood of morning light pouring through the grand windows. I instinctively raised my hand to shield my eyes, blinking away the blur.

  "Ah, Duke. Welcome," came a warm, familiar voice from the elevated seats. Judge Zeyra’s tone was calm but commanding. Unlike the previous time, she wore silver robes reflected the sunlight, giving her an almost angelic glow. To her left sat Judge Veyra, as composed as ever, though her eyes seemed to pierce right through me.

  Under her was Tharvin, seated at a shorter podium. Same as last time, he were surrounded by an intimidating mountain of papers and gripping his ornate hammer.

  “Good morning!” I called, raising a hand to wave awkwardly.

  Tharvin chuckled and waved back, his smile as welcoming as a warm hearth. Zeyra nodded kindly, her eyes soft. But Veyra? She didn’t even flinch—her gaze shifted away as if I were no more than a passing breeze.

  Figures.

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw them—my friends. Sylas, Mira, Kael, and Kaldor, all seated with Vaelrik’s family along the benches to the left. Relief washed over me like a tide. Without a second thought, I sprinted toward them.

  “You’re all here!” I exclaimed, breathless.

  I glanced at Vaelrik and Kyla at the back. They didn’t say anything but reply with a happy nod. I know that they are glad that I’m safe.

  “What’s going on? What happened after...I got knock out?” I glanced at Veyra but she still tried to avoid it and sigh. I

  Kael smirked, leaning back in his chair. “After you got knocked flat on your back by Veyra? We helped evacuate everyone. Vaelrik’s men got us all to safety.”

  “After I got heal by the scroll Kael gave, I ran to picked you up and carried you back to the refugee camp. Despite it was built hastily but there was still a place for you.” Kaldor pat me on the shoulder with a smile.

  Sylas added, “ This morning, we tried to wake you, but you were out cold. Mira wrote you a letter to let you know we’d be here.”

  “Oh…” My stomach dropped. The letter. I remembered wiping my nose with a scrap of paper earlier that morning.

  “Wait.” I forced a grin. “Uh… you said ‘letter,’ huh? Yeah, about that…”

  Sylas raised an eyebrow, Mira folded her arms, and Kaldor’s quiet laugh told me I wasn’t fooling anyone.

  Before I could dig myself into a deeper hole, a sharp hammer strike echoed across the hall.

  “All rise for the court proceedings!” Tharvin’s booming voice silenced the room.

  I straightened and turned to the center of the courtroom, where three figures stood behind iron bars. Their wings were bound with thick metal cuffs, their hands chained in front of them. Daryn, the Rantte, and Serak. Each one bore an air of defiance, though their disheveled appearances betrayed the aftermath of last night’s battle.

  Tharvin’s voice carried across the chamber like rolling thunder. “The court calls this trial to order. Today, we address the crimes of Daryn Vyral, Serak, and Rantte, both are people without family names. Charges include impersonation, kidnapping, reactionary acts against the Drakonian Council, assault of civilians, illegal trespass, violated the sacred oath from our higher-ups, and gross societal disruption.”

  Sacred oath? Is he referring about the policy to make peace with other races? I did not know it was that important.

  A murmur ran through the audience. My friends and I exchanged uneasy glances, the memories of last night’s chaos still fresh and raw.

  Tharvin’s gaze turned to us, expectant. “Victims and witnesses, you may now step forward to provide testimony.”

  I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry as sand. For a moment, none of us moved, the weight of the night hanging heavy over us.

  Vaelrik broke the silence, his voice steady and commanding. “I will speak first.” He stood tall, his wife Kyla clutching his arm for support.

  The courtroom fell silent as Vaelrik stepped forward, his expression dark and his voice booming with fury.

  "Daryn Vyral!" Vaelrik’s voice cut through the tense air like a blade. "You dare to stand here, in this sacred hall, after disgracing not just the Drakonian Council but the very essence of what it means to be one of us. Impersonation, kidnapping, assaulting innocents, intruding on private lands—these crimes are just the surface of your treachery. Your actions have brought shame upon our people, and you’ve endangered lives for your twisted ambitions!"

  Contrast to his gentle gestures earlier, with a sharper gesture, he raised his spear and pointed it directly at Daryn’s face. For a moment, I thought he might actually strike. Daryn, however, didn’t flinch. His face remained as emotionless as stone.

  The guards rushed to Vaelrik’s side, their hands on his shoulders, urging him to step back. Zeyra, sitting above, raised a hand for calm.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I understand your anger, Vaelrik,” she said gently but firmly, her voice soothing the tension in the room. “I understand everyone’s feelings here. But we must uphold the dignity of this court.”

  Vaelrik hesitated before lowering his spear. His knuckles were white around its shaft, but he finally stepped back. Zeyra turned her gaze to Daryn.

  “Daryn Vyral,” she said, her tone cold as steel. “You have heard the charges brought against you. Are they true? And do you feel any guilt for your actions?”

  Daryn didn’t answer immediately. Instead, a low chuckle escaped his lips, growing louder and more unsettling until it transformed into a sinister, almost maniacal laugh. The sound sent shivers down my spine and echoed through the chamber like a predator’s growl.

  “Guilt?” Daryn spat, his eyes blazing with unhinged madness. “Why the fuck would I feel guilt for doing what needed to be done? You call these actions crimes? I call them a goddamn revolution! A fight for the true Drakonians—not these pathetic pieces of shit shackled by their precious ‘honor’ and idiotic ‘policies.’”

  He laughed, loud and manic, the sound echoing like a storm in the hall. “You think you’re righteous? That your rules and councils make you better? You’re a fucking joke! A bunch of weak-willed cowards too scared to embrace what we really are! Drakonians weren’t born to kneel, to cower behind some bullshit code of conduct. We were born to rule, to crush, to take what’s rightfully ours!”

  His voice rose to a feral roar, veins bulging in his neck as he gestured wildly with his chained hands. “Look at yourselves! Chained by this pathetic council of spineless bastards, living in fear of offending some miserable, lesser races. You’re not Drakonians—you’re fucking sheep! Sheep being led to slaughter while you let your strength rot away!”

  He sneered, eyes glinting with venom as he leaned forward, the chains clinking ominously. “You all make me sick. Pretending you’re noble, pretending you’re just, while letting yourselves die out like damn fools. You’ll never survive the storm that’s coming, but me? I’m the only one with the balls to do what needs to be done! To bring back the power we’ve lost—no, the power we’ve been too afraid to take back!”

  “Enough!” Zeyra’s hammer struck the podium, but the damage was already done.

  I felt my fists clench, my body trembling with anger. Sylas and Mira looked just as livid. Kaldor’s calm demeanor cracked, a low growl escaping his throat. Even Kael’s normally composed expression darkened with fury. I wanted to leap over the benches and wipe that smug grin off Daryn’s face.

  “Come on, kids!” Daryn sneered, locking eyes with us. “Why don’t you show me what you’re made of? You’ve got the fire, but no spine to use it!”

  My blood boiled, but before I could act, I noticed Vaelrik. I expected him to react, to lash out in rage. Instead, he stood there, calm and composed, staring Daryn down with cold, calculating eyes.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Vaelrik’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that silenced the room. “You spew nonsense about strength and power, but all I see is a coward. A fool who hides his failures behind empty words.”

  Daryn’s bravado faltered, his sneer replaced with a twitch of uncertainty. “You—”

  Vaelrik interrupted, his tone icy. “You talk about ruling, but you can’t even rule yourself. You’re a disgrace to your ancestors. They’d weep to see what you’ve become.”

  Daryn’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He turned to Rantte and Serak for support, but they simply looked away, their heads bowed in shame.

  Judge Veyra's stern voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. “Daryn, you have been charged with impersonation, kidnapping, reactionary actions, assault, endangering society, and, perhaps most damningly, abolishing the sacred oath you swore as a judge. For what purpose did you commit these heinous crimes?”

  For a moment, there was silence. Daryn’s face twitched, and then he threw his head back in a maniacal laugh that echoed throughout the courtroom. Gasps rippled through the crowd as his chilling cackle sent shivers down their spines.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Daryn sneered, his eyes wide and wild, glinting with a frenzied fervor. “None of you would! You're all blind sheep, oblivious to the grand design! His will—yes, His—will come to fruition! The candidates have been chosen, and soon He will rise, the one and only ruler of this wretched, pathetic world!”

  Daryn’s voice rose to a fever pitch, his words tumbling out like the ravings of a madman. “The sacrifices, the struggles, everything I’ve done—it's all for Him! You think you can stop this? Hah! Fools! Ignorant fools! You’re merely pawns in a game far beyond your comprehension!”

  The crowd erupted into murmurs, some recoiling in fear while others stared at Daryn in disbelief. His crazed ranting struck a nerve, a sinister hint of something far darker at play. Even Judge Zeyra narrowed her eyes, her composed demeanor cracking for a moment.

  Tharvin’s hammer struck again, commanding the room’s attention. “That is enough. The court will now deliver its judgment.”

  Zeyra rose, her gaze sharp as a blade. “Rantte, for impersonation, kidnapping, and attacking innocents, you are sentenced to 25 years of imprisonment. Serak, for aiding and abetting, your sentence is 20 years.”

  Then her eyes turned to Daryn, colder than ice. “Daryn Vyral, for all your crimes—impersonation, kidnapping, reactionary actions, assault, and endangering society, abolish the scared oath, the one behind the plans—you are sentenced to life imprisonment in the Heaven Dragon’s Cave. You will have no compensation, no mercy.”

  A murmur ran through the room. My thoughts swirled. Life imprisonment? Drakonian lifespans were two or three times longer than humans. To him, it was almost a mockery. A small part of me thought death would have been a more fitting punishment.

  The guards entered, six of them in total, surrounding the prisoners and dragging them away. Daryn didn’t resist, though smirks are still there.

  Zeyra descended gracefully from her podium, her robes shimmering in the morning light as Veyra followed closely behind, her tail swishing in her usual composed demeanor. Zeyra stopped in front of Vaelrik, her expression warm yet commanding.

  “That… outburst from Daryn,” she began, her voice clipped but calm, “it wasn’t the ramblings of a madman. There was intent behind his words. Malicious intent.”

  “‘Him,’” Mira repeated, frowning. “Who could he have been talking about? He sounded like a lunatic, but... there was conviction in his voice.”

  Kael crossed his arms, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by quiet contemplation. “Whoever he is, it’s clear Daryn believes in him completely. That’s dangerous.”

  “Not just dangerous,” Sylas interjected, her tone sharp. “Fanatical. And fanatics with power are worse than anything.”

  I couldn’t hold back my thoughts any longer. “You think he was working under someone? Like, taking orders?”

  Zeyra nodded slowly, her expression grim. “It’s a possibility. Daryn’s reference to ‘him’—and the way he spoke of ‘candidates’—suggests an organized effort. This isn’t the work of a single disgraced judge acting alone. There’s a structure here, a hierarchy we don’t fully understand.”

  “But what are the ‘candidates’ he mentioned?” Kaldor asked, his deep voice cutting through the room. “Are they people? Objects? Some kind of metaphor?”

  Sylas pushed off the wall, pacing now as her thoughts spilled out. “It could mean anything, but it sounds like a selection process. Maybe Daryn and his people were choosing… something. Or someone. And for what?”

  Zeyra’s jaw tightened. “Whatever it is, it’s not good. The fact that Daryn was willing to risk his position, his reputation, and ultimately his life for this cause speaks volumes.”

  Vaelrik, who had been silent up to this point, let out a sharp exhale. “He’s a lunatic, no doubt about it. But lunatics with a cause? They’re dangerous because they don’t stop. They don’t care about logic or survival—only their warped vision of the world.”

  Kyla shot him a sideways glance. “You sound like you’ve seen this before.”

  He shrugged, his gaze hard. “Let’s just say I’ve dealt with my share of fanatics. And they always have someone pulling the strings. Daryn’s too proud to be the mastermind. He’s a pawn in someone else’s game.”

  I turned to Kyla. “What do you think? You’ve known Daryn longer than any of us.”

  She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “He wasn’t always like this. He was ambitious, sure, but not… unhinged. Whatever changed him, it happened recently. Maybe this ‘him’ he mentioned? Whoever it is, they’ve twisted him into something unrecognizable.”

  “I hate to say it,” I muttered, “but he didn’t seem scared of losing his life at all. If anything, he seemed… smug. Like he knows something we don’t.”

  Zeyra's gaze fixed on me, sharp and thoughtful. “You’re perceptive, Duke. That smugness—his confidence—it worries me.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as if she were piecing together a puzzle. “If there’s a larger force at play, this trial is only the beginning.”

  “What do we do?” Mira asked, her voice quieter now. “If this ‘him’ is real, and there are others like Daryn…”

  Zeyra took a deep breath, her tone firm and decisive. “I’ll report this to the king and queens immediately. They need to be informed of the potential threat. Additionally, I’ll request the wardens for a thorough interrogation of Daryn. If he knows more, we’ll get it out of him.”

  Kael tilted his head slightly. “And if he doesn’t talk?”

  Zeyra’s eyes darkened. “He will. One way or another.”

  Vaelrik snorted. “I’d pay to see that interrogation. He’s the type to crack under pressure.”

  “Or the type to double down,” Kyla countered softly. “He’s delusional enough to think he’s untouchable. That kind of mindset… it’s hard to break.”

  I exchanged glances with Sylas and Mira. There was an edge to Kyla’s words that made me wonder if she’d seen that kind of delusion firsthand.

  “We should be careful,” I said cautiously. “If Daryn’s not alone, whoever he’s working for might not take kindly to us digging deeper. They could retaliate.”

  “That’s why I’ll ensure this is handled discreetly,” Zeyra assured us. “The fewer people who know about this, the better.”

  Sylas nodded, but her expression remained tense. “Still, it doesn’t sit right with me. There’s too much we don’t know. Too many variables.”

  “And too many lives at stake,” Mira added softly.

  Vaelrik rolled his shoulders, his serious demeanor returning. “Whatever happens, you can count on me to help. I don’t trust this ‘him’ business, and I’d rather deal with it now than let it fester.”

  Kyla glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “That’s surprisingly noble of you.”

  He smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

  After the discussion about the mysterious man, Zeyra turned to Vaelrik. “Now, we must address another matter.”

  Vaelrik blinked, his confusion written across his face. “What matter?”

  “The council has decided it’s time to appoint a new judge. After much consideration, I believe you, commander Vaelrik, are the most suitable candidate.”

  Vaelrik’s eyes widened, his grip tightening instinctively on his spear. “Me? A judge? But I’m just a soldier. A warrior, not... not someone who handles laws or courts. I’m not—”

  “A leader,” Zeyra interrupted firmly, her gaze locking with his. “A leader with not just strength, but dignity, integrity, and a heart that always seeks what is right. That’s what makes a judge, commander Vaelrik. Not just power, but the ability to use it wisely. And from what I’ve seen, you possess that in abundance.”

  Vaelrik glanced over his shoulder, his eyes searching his wife. Kyla gave him an encouraging smile, her hand resting gently on his arm. His gaze shifted to us, his friends.

  “What do you think?” he asked, his voice softer, almost hesitant.

  “We’ll support you no matter what,” I said without hesitation, offering him a reassuring smile. The others nodded firmly in agreement. Kael added, “If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

  Mira chimed in, her voice filled with genuine warmth. “You’ve always led with your heart, Vaelrik. That’s what we admire about you.”

  Even Kaldor, who rarely spoke much, nodded solemnly. “You’d make a fine judge.”

  Vaelrik’s hand clenched into a fist, his emotions clearly warring within him. Finally, he turned back to Zeyra, his expression resolute but tinged with humility. “I’ll accept this honor—but give me a year. I need time to grow, to prepare myself for such a responsibility. I won’t take this lightly. In the mean time, you may also find someone more suitable than me. ”

  Zeyra’s lips curved into a knowing smile, as if she had expected this answer all along. “You’ve made a wise choice, commander Vaelrik. And I respect your decision.” And closed her eyes and chuckled “And maybe we won’t find something better than you commander Vaelrik.

  Beside her, Veyra gave a curt nod, her usual sternness softening ever so slightly.

  Zeyra spread her wings, the sunlight from the ceiling casting a radiant glow around her. “Very well. A year it is.” She let out a light laugh, the sound like a melody. “I’ll look forward to seeing the judge you’ll become.”

  With that, she lifted off gracefully, her wings carrying her effortlessly toward the open ceiling window. “Until then, commander Vaelrik!” she called back, waving as she disappeared into the morning sky.

  We all turned back to Vaelrik, who stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where Zeyra had vanished. His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled deeply, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. “I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

  Kyla looped her arm around his, her pride evident in her glowing expression. “And we’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”

  As the room began to disperse, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement for Vaelrik’s future. Though he seemed uncertain now, there was no doubt in my mind that he would rise to the occasion, just as he always had.

  With her gone, Veyra stood awkwardly, her tail twitching. I couldn’t resist teasing her. “So, Judge Veyra, how about making up for that slap last night with a free meal?”

  Her face turned bright red. “You little—!”

  Her tail whipped around, smacking me square in the face. I hit the ground with a thud as she flew off, flustered.

  Lying there, I groaned. “I think I deserve that meal even more now...”

  The others burst out laughing as they gathered around me. As I rubbed my aching face, and realized something. The joke last night was about her tail. Maybe I owed her an apology for that one.