High above the world, Tavalor soared through the afternoon sky. Little Shadow piloted the Sky-breaker with surprising skill, it’s violet eyes fixed on the distant horizon where Vallenport awaited.

  The airship was high above the clouds, cutting through the air like a knife through butter, its enchanted engines humming a melodic tune that Little Shadow occasionally mimicked with soft chirps.

  Tavalor stood on the bow, wind rushing through his hair as he gazed across the vast expanse of the world. They had flow high. So high that there was no air.

  From this height the true scale of the realm revealed itself – a landscape at least a hundred times larger than Earth had been. Continents stretched out like massive puzzle pieces, separated by impossibly vast oceans that would take ordinary cultivators months to cross.

  The circular prison-continents designed by the Watchers were more obvious from these heights. All circular. All unnatural.

  ‘It’s quite a view, isn’t it?’ Tavalor mused to Little Shadow, who chirped in agreement without taking its attention from the ships controls.

  Little Shadow had grown again, instead of being chick sized, it was chicken sized. It resembled a crow made of living darkness. Its form rippling with newfound power absorbed from the battle-beasts it had consumed.

  It would also occasionally shift forms. Morphing appendages into the shapes of the beasts that it had devoured.

  Tavalor smiled at the creatures antics. He had at least found a companion. Little Shadow as linked to him. He felt it. His life and Little Shadows were bound.

  Why? Another mystery.

  As they journeyed towards home, Tavalor’s thoughts drifted back towards the destruction that he had left behind.

  The glassy crater that had once been Miragos. The obliteration of an entire city state. Extinction of a place that had stood for centuries.

  Maybe I went too far? He thought. Then he dismissed the thought. They would have returned. More assassins. More Sky-breakers. Pulling out the weeds by the roots was the only way to ensure peace.

  Still, the memory of all of the randoms that that nothing to do with the Dorians or their vendetta did weigh on him. He wasn’t a monster. He didn’t revel in the slaughter. He just wanted to be left alone.

  ***

  The destruction of Miragos sent shockwaves across the world. Within hours of the cataclysm, the news had spread like wildfire, carried by various magical means, desperate refugees and the simple visibility of the event itself.

  The column of light had been visible from thousands of kilometers away. The second such event after the meteor.

  In the Northern Continent, deep within the frozen fortress-capital of the Iperium Solara, Emperor Tiberius received the news with a furrowed brow. The giant blue bearded ruler sat motionless on his Crystal Throne, frost forming as his advisors detailed the reports.

  ‘A city of half a million souls… gone within minutes,’ the Imperial Spymaster reported calmly. ‘The witnesses describe it as fire, Your Radiance. Not a spell, not a ritual… actual fire.’

  The Emperor’s eyes narrowed: ‘What could it be? A weapon? A revived dragon? The watchers?’ he said, his breath causing fog to from in the frigid air. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  'I suggest nothing, Your Radiance. I merely report what our agents have witnessed. Something of [S-Class] power has emerged in Vallenport. Something that can reduce a fortified city to glass with a single breath.'

  Tiberius dismissed his advisors with a wave, remaining alone in the throne room. For the first time in centuries, the Emperor of Imperium Solara felt a chill that had nothing to do with the frost surrounding him.

  ***

  In the Eastern Continent, the news arrived at the palaces of the Jade Court during a celestial alignment ceremony. The Empress Celestial paused in her ritual, her ornate headdress tinkling softly as she tilted her head, listening to the whispers of her attendant.

  Her eyes, milky white with age and power, widened slightly. 'Show me,' she commanded.

  A scrying pool was brought forth, its surface rippling to reveal the smouldering crater where Miragos had stood. The perfect circle of glass reflected the twin moons, a testament to power beyond mortal comprehension.

  'The balance shifts,' the Empress murmured, her voice carrying to her assembled court. 'For the first time in an age, the wheel turns in a direction even I cannot foresee.'

  ***

  On the Elven Continent, the High Council gathered beneath the boughs of the World Tree. Galarion, the Archmage, paced before his seated peers, his silver robes catching the dappled light filtering through the ancient leaves.

  'The reports are confirmed,' he announced, his tone grave. 'Miragos is no more. The Free City has been reduced to a sea of glass. Even Lord Miragos himself—an [S-Class] cultivator whose power rivalled our own—fell before this... entity.'

  Whispers broke out among the council members, their faces pale beneath the emerald canopy.

  'Could it be?' one of them ventured. 'After all these millennia... could a dragon have returned?'

  Galarion's expression darkened. ‘No the description of the creature was of a shadowy formless beast. If it was the Watchers, they would have made a move. The Watchers will not allow such a disruption to their system. They will come in force.'

  'And Titanos?' another council member asked. 'The Giants' return—could it be connected?'

  'I fear we stand at the precipice of a new age,' Galarion replied, his ancient eyes troubled. 'The old powers stir. The walls between worlds grow thin. And in Vallenport, a shadow.'

  ***

  Even the nomadic tribes of the Shimmerwind Desert felt the tremors of Miragos' fall. Gathered around campfires beneath the star-filled sky, the elders spoke in hushed tones of omens and prophecies.

  'The glass crater,' one wizened elder murmured, tracing patterns in the sand. 'Perfect circle. Perfect destruction. The old tales speak of such power—the breath of the world-shapers, the firstborn of magic.'

  Younger warriors leaned in, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.

  'Dragons?' one of them asked.

  The elder shook his head solemnly. 'Or something worse.'

  ***

  As the Sky-breaker approached Vallenport, the first thing Tavalor noticed was the increased activity in the harbour. Ships from across the Elder Isles had converged on the city, their decks crowded with observers, merchants, and the simply curious.

  Little Shadow chirped excitedly, pointing a shadow-tendril toward the city centre where a large crowd had gathered. Even from this distance, Tavalor could see the festival atmosphere—banners streaming in the wind, magical lights illuminating the central plaza, music floating up from street performers.

  'Interesting,' he murmured. 'It seems you’ve caused quite a stir.' He smiled at Little Shadow.

  Tavalor put the Sky-breaker away into his system space. Leaving himself and Little Shadow floating high in the sky. Little Shadow chirped in confusion.

  ‘I’ve put it away for you,’ Tavalor calmed him down. ‘Let’s not make a scene. I don’t want to be bothered too much.’

  Little Shadow cocked his head in confusion, then chirped and nodded along. He shrank himself down to his former chick size and sat on Tavalor’s shoulder.

  Tavalor floated down to the ground, using [Intimidation] to force people to look away as he landed.

  They had arrived a the Grand Plaza. In the centre of the Grand Plaza, where the Sky-breakers had threatened the city just days before, a new statue had been erected—a massive sculpture of a shadow creature, its many eyes rendered in glowing purple crystals, its form seeming to flow like living darkness.

  'They built you a statue,' Tavalor said, amused by Little Shadow's obvious delight. The shadow creature puffed up, almost doubling in size with pride before returning to its normal dimensions.

  They had arrived mid speech. It was Kaelen Silverbeard, the Guildmaster of the Adventurers Guild droning on: 'Vallenport thanks its protector,' Silverbeard finished, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd. 'Lord Shadow!'

  Lord Shadow? Tavalor thought, suppressing a laugh. Well, they're half right.

  Little Shadow practically vibrated with excitement at its new title—Lord Shadow—its violet eyes gleaming with delight.

  The crowd erupted in cheers, flowers and enchanted confetti raining down from balconies. Children ran through the streets, their small hands holding crudely made shadow puppets designed to resemble Little Shadow.

  Tavalor walked through the streets. There were banners all over proclaiming ‘SALVATION OF VALLENPORT’ in bold magical script that changed colours.

  Near the plaza's entrance, a newsboy was hawking the latest edition of the Vallenport Chronicle, its headline bold and unmistakable:

  SHADOW DEFENDS VALLENPORT, MIRAGOS DESTROYED!Lord Shadow Consumes Sky-breaker Beasts Whole—City Celebrates New [S-Class] Protector

  Little Shadow spotted the newspaper and chirped demandingly. Tavalor sighed and purchased a copy, holding it up so the proud creature could see its likeness splashed across the front page.

  'You're going to be insufferable after this, aren't you?' he murmured to Little Shadow, who responded with a chirp that could only be described as smug.

  Tavalor continued walking taking in the spectacle before him. The entire city seemed to have turned out in celebration. Magical lanterns hung from every available surface, floating gondolas decorated with shadow motifs drifted through the canals, and a massive feast had been laid out on long tables spanning the plaza's perimeter.

  In the midst of all this revelry, Tavalor spotted Emberfist pushing through the crowd, her fiery hair unmistakable even from a distance. Her expression was a mixture of relief and exasperation—clearly, she had questions about his sudden departure and dramatic return.

  He also caught sight of Luneth perched on a nearby rooftop, observing the proceedings with her typical aloof curiosity. Her silver eyes met his briefly, conveying a silent acknowledgment before she melted back into the shadows.

  'For Vallenport!' someone shouted from the crowd, raising a goblet high.

  'For Lord Shadow!' came the answering roar from hundreds of throats.

  As the celebration engulfed him, Tavalor felt an unexpected warmth spreading through his chest. Despite his preference for solitude, there was something undeniably pleasant about belonging somewhere. About being valued not for the terror he could inflict, but for the protection he provided.

  He kinda got why people wanted to be heroes, sometimes.

  Perhaps, he thought as Little Shadow basked in the adoration of the crowd, this isn’t such a bad arrangement.

  Even as the celebration continued, Tavalor's thoughts turned to the future. The Watchers wouldn’t ignore what had happened in Miragos. The other powers of the world wouldn’t remain indifferent to the emergence of a new [S-Class].

  And somewhere beyond the horizon, the mysterious continent of Titanos and its returning Giants represented an unknown factor in an increasingly complex equation.

  One problem at a time, Tavalor reminded himself, accepting a goblet of enchanted wine from a beaming citizen. For tonight, at least, there is peace.

  Little Shadow chirped in agreement, its violet eyes gleaming with satisfaction as it surveyed what had effectively become its kingdom. And at the wine in Tavalor’s hand.

  ***

  Morning sunlight filtered through the mist that clung to Vallenport's canals, casting the cobblestones in a golden haze. Tavalor strolled along his usual route to the Gilded Hearth, Little Shadow perched contentedly on his shoulder. The shadow creature had grown again overnight, now the size of a large raven, its violet eyes gleaming as it took in the city.

  The streets were busier than usual, remnants of yesterdays celebration. The city hummed with life, even at the early hour. The energy was different today, a mix of excitement, fear and awe. A good mood.

  Little Shadow perched on his collar, eyes darted around, watching the passers-by with curiosity. It’s personality grew stronger and stronger, developing quirks and preferences that amused Tavalor.

  As he walked past the marketplace conversation drifted to his ears.

  'They say he was like darkness itself, wielding fire that melted stone...'

  'Nonsense. Lord Shadow is clearly an ancient elven mage. My cousin's friend saw him...'

  'I heard he commands an army of shadow beasts. That's how he destroyed the entire city with a single command!'

  Tavalor smiled faintly. 'Lord Shadow', they called him now—a mysterious saviour who had appeared from nowhere to defend Vallenport against Miragos' aggression. The gossip spread like wildfire, each retelling more fantastic than the last.

  Yet remarkably, despite the wild speculation, no one connected these events to the unassuming horned man who frequented the Gilded Hearth each morning.

  Little Shadow puffed up at each mention of 'shadow beasts', clearly enjoying its celebrity status, even if no one knew it was the creature in question.

  The bell chimed pleasantly as Tavalor pushed open the café door. The familiar scent of enchanted brews and freshly baked pastries welcomed him. Brenna looked up from behind the counter, her face brightening.

  'Lord Tavalor! Your usual spot is waiting.'

  Tavalor nodded gratefully, making his way to the window seat. Little Shadow, however, had other ideas. It leapt from his shoulder, darting across the room towards Soot, Brenna's familiar. The black cat, lounging in its usual sunny spot near the hearth, bristled immediately, fur standing on end as the shadow creature approached.

  'Little Shadow,' Tavalor called, 'leave poor Soot alone.'

  But the shadow creature ignored him, circling the agitated cat with obvious curiosity. Soot hissed, swiping a paw through Little Shadow's insubstantial form. The shadow merely rippled, reforming instantly and chirping what sounded suspiciously like laughter.

  'I'm sorry, Brenna,' Tavalor said with a sigh. 'It's still learning manners.'

  Brenna chuckled, setting down his usual Calming Brew and starfruit muffin. 'No harm. Soot could use the company, even if he doesn't think so.' She glanced at the newspaper tucked under Tavalor's arm. 'Have you seen the headlines? It's all anyone's talking about.'

  'Haven't had the chance,' he replied, unfolding the paper.

  The front page of the Vallenport Chronicle was dominated by bold text:

  MIRAGOS FALLS: MYSTERIOUS 'LORD SHADOW' SAVES VALLENPORT

  The article beneath was a sensational account of Miragos' failed invasion, the destruction of their Sky-breaker fleet, and the subsequent catastrophic destruction of the entire city. Eyewitness accounts described a being of pure shadow commanding incredible power, though the descriptions varied wildly—some claimed he was ten metres tall, others said he wielded dual blades of darkness.

  Tavalor scanned further down:

  'Sources suggest the involvement of one of the major continental powers, perhaps the Imperial Solara or even the Celestial Dynasty. However, with no official claim of responsibility and no known survivors from Miragos' leadership, the identity of this 'Lord Shadow' remains Vallenport's greatest mystery.'

  'Whatever the truth, the Free City's fall has reshaped the balance of power in the Elder Isles. Vallenport's Council has already dispatched representatives to secure former Miragos assets, including their remaining fleets and considerable treasury. An unprecedented windfall for our city, according to Duke Mariner…'

  Tavalor folded the paper with a small smile. How quicklypeoplemoved on. No mention of the thousands who had perished, just the redistribution of wealth and power. He took a sip of his Calming Brew, the soothing flavours washing away the faint discomfort at the thought.

  The café door swung open again, the bell chiming as Emberfist strode in. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a practical braid, and her gauntlets hung on her waist dimly, their usual glow muted to match her casual attire. She spotted him immediately, making her way to his table.

  'Predictable,' she said, sliding into the seat across from him. Without asking, she broke off a piece of his muffin. 'Same time, same place, same order.'

  Tavalor shrugged, pushing the rest of the muffin towards her. 'I’m a creature of habit, as you've pointed out before.'

  They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Emberfist studying him with a scrutiny that might have made others uncomfortable. Since their return from Miragos, something had shifted between them—a new understanding born from shared secrets.

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  'You're [S-Class],' she said finally, her voice low enough that only he could hear. 'I suspected after the dungeon, but Miragos confirmed it. You took down an entire city. Alone.'

  Tavalor maintained his calm expression, though his eyes darted briefly to ensure no one was listening. 'Does it matter?'

  'It matters because [S-Class] beings don't just appear out of nowhere,' she said, leaning closer. 'They don't hide in rundown manors reading books and drinking enchanted brews. They're legends, leaders, world-shakers.'

  'Perhaps I prefer a quiet life,' he suggested.

  Emberfist snorted. 'A quiet life? You've destroyed a major city-state, confronted a Watcher, and acquired a shadow creature that eats [A-Class] battle-beasts for breakfast. That's hardly keeping a low profile.'

  As if summoned by mention of its name, Little Shadow abandoned its game with Soot and bounded back to their table, leaping onto Emberfist's lap.

  She froze, clearly uncomfortable with this development.

  'Get off,' she growled, attempting to push the creature away. Little Shadow merely reformed around her hands, purring in what sounded like deliberate provocation.

  Tavalor chuckled. 'It seems to have taken a liking to you now.'

  'Well, it can take its liking elsewhere,' she grumbled, finally giving up as Little Shadow settled comfortably on her lap. 'It can’t just decide to play with me like that. We still aren’t friends'

  Tavalor laughed at that.

  The café door opened once more, and Luneth slipped in, her elven grace making her movements almost imperceptible among the morning crowd. She spotted them and approached, her silver spectacles glinting in the light.

  'I see the team's all here,' she remarked, pulling up a chair. Her sharp eyes caught sight of Little Shadow on Emberfist's lap, and a rare smile curled her lips. 'Making friends, are we?'

  'This is not friendship,' Emberfist insisted. 'This is an invasion of personal space.'

  Little Shadow, apparently disagreeing, glowed slightly brighter and nestled deeper into her lap. Then, as if making a decision, it suddenly leapt up, flowing across the table to Luneth. The elf didn't flinch as the shadow creature curled around her shoulders like a scarf, its violet eyes blinking contentedly.

  Emberfist looked genuinely offended. 'Now it likes her better? After I finally stopped trying to remove it?'

  'Shadow creatures are known for their discerning taste,' Luneth said dryly, reaching up to pat Little Shadow's insubstantial form. 'Isn't that right, little one?'

  The creature chirped happily, seeming to enjoy the attention.

  Tavalor watched this exchange with amusement.

  Despite the incredible events of the past weeks—dungeons, watchers, ancient secrets, and destroyed cities—it was these small moments that felt the best.

  A dragon among humans, finding simple joy in a quiet café with companions who, despite not knowing his true nature, accepted him nonetheless.

  Outside, Vallenport continued its day, citizens going about their business beneath the shadow of recent events, unaware that their mysterious saviour sat among them, enjoying his morning coffee.

  ***

  Tavalor strolled down the Artificers' Lane, a narrow cobblestone street tucked away in Vallenport's Scholar's Quarter. The late morning sun glinted off beautifully crafted shop signs, each competing for attention with elaborate magical flourishes.

  Among them, one modest sign stood out precisely because of its understatement: 'Mortimer's Magical Miscellany', written in simple gold lettering that glowed faintly in the shadows.

  Little Shadow darted ahead, eager to explore. After breakfast Tavalor had taken to wandering around to show Little Shadow around. The creature had grown fond of these morning walks, though its curiosity often led it into troublesome situations. Today it hovered at Mortimer's window, pressing its insubstantial form against the glass to peer at the oddities within.

  'Relax,' Tavalor murmured, though he understood the attraction. Mortimer's shop was a treasure trove of magical curiosities—some valuable, others merely interesting, all meticulously catalogued and displayed.

  The bell above the door jingled softly as Tavalor entered. The shop's interior: cramped yet somehow spacious, with tall shelves bearing countless items that defied easy categorisation. Glass cabinets contained shimmering potions and enchanted gemstones, while hanging from the ceiling were preserved magical creatures, suspended in an eternal flight among drying herbs and crystalline mobiles.

  'Ah, greetings Lord!' Mortimer appeared from behind a stack of ancient tomes, his round spectacles magnifying already bulging eyes. He was a small man with a prominent belly that preceded him around corners. Despite his unimpressive stature, his knowledge of magical artifacts was unparalleled in Vallenport. 'What a pleasant surprise! And you've brought your... pet.'

  Little Shadow bristled at being called a pet, its form darkening momentarily.

  Tavalor just nodded gently.

  'Of course, of course,' Mortimer said, rubbing his hands together. 'Though if I may, I've recently acquired something that might interest a gentleman of your discerning taste.'

  Mortimer hurried to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a heavy velvet curtain. Tavalor could hear him rummaging through drawers and muttering to himself.

  Little Shadow, meanwhile, had discovered a glass case containing what appeared to be dormant faerie lights. It pressed itself against the glass, violet eyes wide with fascination.

  Mortimer returned, cradling a small wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. 'Behold,' he said, opening it with a flourish.

  Inside lay a brooch—a perfect silver crescent moon containing a miniature swirling galaxy. Stars glittered and planets moved in slow orbits, all contained within a piece no larger than a palm.

  'The Celestial Brooch,' Mortimer announced proudly. 'Said to have belonged to Vallen himself, though I cannot verify that claim. It was recovered from a merchant vessel that sank near the Storm Shores three centuries ago.'

  Tavalor leaned closer, genuinely intrigued. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and he could sense magic emanating from it—ancient and subtle. Without thinking, he activated [Appraisal].

  ===The Celestial Brooch===

  A convincing fake. A newly crafted magical item designed to appear ancient. Contains a minor teleportation enchantment—allows the wearer to appear dramatically at social gatherings.

  ===

  'Fascinating,' Tavalor said, masking his amusement. 'And how did you come by such a rare piece?'

  Mortimer puffed up with importance. 'A stroke of fortune, my lord! An elderly woman brought it in, having no idea of its value. Her late husband was a collector, you see. I gave her a fair price, of course,' he added hastily, 'but between us, it's worth ten times what I paid.'

  'Indeed,' Tavalor murmured. 'And what do you intend to do with it?'

  Mortimer's eyes gleamed with something beyond professional interest. 'Well, I thought perhaps to offer it to a discerning collector such as yourself. However...' He hesitated, lowering his voice consiprationally. 'The Summer Gala approaches. I've never received an invitation, despite my establishment's reputation. Perhaps, if I were to wear such a distinguished piece...'

  Tavalor understood immediately. Mortimer wasn't merely a shopkeeper; he was a man with aspirations. The magical brooch represented more than profit—it was his ticket to Vallenport's exclusive social circles.

  'A bold strategy,' Tavalor noted. 'The nobility do appreciate historical artifacts.'

  Mortimer beamed, clearly taking this as encouragement. 'Precisely! With this, I'd be more than just another merchant. I'd be a guardian of history, a man of culture worthy of their company.' His smile faltered slightly. 'Though I must admit, I haven't quite deciphered all its properties yet.'

  Little Shadow had abandoned the faerie lights and now hovered near the brooch, its violet eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  'Perhaps it's best left as a display piece,' Tavalor suggested gently.

  But Mortimer's mind was made up. 'Nonsense! Such beauty deserves to be seen, admired! I shall wear it to Councilman Harlow's reception next week. He's a known history enthusiast—surely he'll appreciate its significance.'

  Tavalor recognised the gleam in Mortimer's eye—the intoxicating combination of ambition and self-deception. He could warn the shopkeeper, but experience had taught him that such warnings often fell on deaf ears.

  People believed what they wished to believe.

  'I wish you luck, then,' Tavalor said, inclining his head. 'May it bring you the recognition you seek.'

  As Tavalor browsed the remainder of the shop, selecting a few minor items to purchase, he observed Mortimer from the corner of his eye. The shopkeeper kept returning to the brooch, polishing it, adjusting its position in the display case, clearly already envisioning himself adorned with it among Vallenport's elite.

  Little Shadow chirped questioningly from Tavalor's shoulder.

  'Some lessons,' Tavalor murmured, 'must be learned first-hand.'

  Tavalor left the shop with nothing. There hadn’t been anything too interesting. He hand only ended up buying some kick-knacks for Little Shadow.

  ***

  Several weeks later – while reading a paper at the Gilded Hearth.

  MAGICAL MAYHEM AT HARLOW'S GALA!

  Local Shopkeeper's Enchanted Accessory Causes Chaos Among Elite

  By Sylvia Whisperwit, Social Affairs Correspondent

  VALLENPORT — What began as Councilman Harlow's most anticipated social event of the season descended into magical pandemonium last night when an ambitious shopkeeper from the Scholar's Quarter crashed the exclusive gathering wearing what he claimed was "a relic of Vallen himself."

  Mortimer Pendleton, owner of a modest curiosity shop, arrived at the councilman's lavishly enchanted garden party sporting an ill-fitting suit and—more notably—a dazzling silver crescent brooch that immediately drew the attention of Vallenport's elite social circle.

  "It was like watching a carriage wreck in slow motion," confided Lady Elmsworth, who witnessed the entire spectacle while sipping enchanted champagne. "One minute he was boasting about his precious artifact to anyone who would listen, and the next he was bouncing around the party like a court jester with hiccups!"

  Sources close to this publication report that when Councilman Harlow himself expressed interest in the so-called "[Celestial Brooch]," disaster struck. Upon the councilman's touch, the magical item activated, sending Pendleton on an involuntary teleportation spree throughout the venue.

  "I've never seen anything like it," reported Lord Thimbleton, whose cravat was ruined when Pendleton materialized on the refreshment table, sending a cascade of wine across several prominent guests. "The man appeared everywhere—chandelier, rosebushes, right in the middle of the Duchess of Westerly's entourage!"

  Eyewitnesses described the scene as "absolute chaos," with guests diving for cover as Pendleton ricocheted from one location to another, demolishing priceless decorations and social reputations alike.

  The magical mishap was eventually contained by renowned mage Ellindaria Nightwind, who managed to cast a containment spell long enough for the mortified shopkeeper to remove the troublesome accessory.

  "Councilman Harlow was livid," revealed an anonymous server who was passing canapés when the incident occurred. "His prized moonlight roses were completely flattened. The look on his face when he asked Pendleton to leave could have frozen the Summer Sea."

  The disgraced shopkeeper was seen departing the grounds in tatters, both literally and figuratively.

  One thing is certain—Mortimer Pendleton's name will not appear on Vallenport's guest lists anytime soon. As for the enchanted brooch that caused such a stir, magical authorities are considering new regulations regarding the possession of unregistered artifacts by untrained civilians.

  Councilman Harlow's office has declined to comment on the incident, stating only that "appropriate measures will be taken to ensure the safety and dignity of future gatherings."

  SPOTTED: The normally reclusive enchantress Madame Vex slipping away from the party shortly after the incident with what appeared to be a similar silver crescent tucked into her sleeve. Coincidence? This reporter thinks not!

  ***

  The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of Tavalor's study, casting elongated shadows across the ancient tomes scattered on his desk. He sat cross-legged on the floor, a magic circle floating before him, its surface rippling with subtle movement. Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, occasionally chirping as if offering encouragement.

  For weeks now, Tavalor had been experimenting with combining spells, pushing the boundaries of the rigid six-spell system that constrained this world's magic.

  He had created a unique spell. Combining the ancient magic of [Dragon's Sight] and modern magic [Watcher's Eye].

  [Watcher's Eye] was a surveillance spell that he had seen at the Mages Guild.

  A weakness that he had noticed, was he simply lacked information channels. This spell was a chance to fix that weakness. In a way that nobody else could replicate.

  He called the combined spell [Dragon's Eye]. It was a basic version, but it had given him a taste of what was possible, but he sensed there was more potential.

  'The limitation isn't in the magic itself,' he murmured, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension from hours of concentration. 'It's in my approach.'

  Little Shadow chirped in agreement, its violet eyes blinking.

  Tavalor closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of magic flowing through him. Unlike the structured, rigid pathways that human mages used, his draconic essence allowed him to shape magic more fluidly, more intuitively.

  He envisioned a network of eyes—not just a single point of observation, but multiple viewpoints, all feeding information back to him simultaneously.

  'If [Dragon's Eye] allows me to see through a single projected eye, why not create multiple eyes?' he whispered. 'A network of observation points, all connected to my consciousness.'

  He shaped the magic carefully, drawing on both his draconic nature and the knowledge he'd gained from studying modern magical theory. The spell took form in his mind—a complex weaving of energy that branched outward from his consciousness like the roots of a tree.

  '[Dragon’s Eyes],' he named it, the words resonating with power.

  The air in front of him shimmered, and a small, glowing orb appeared—translucent and iridescent, like a soap bubble with a pupil at its centre. Then another formed beside it, and another, until a dozen tiny magical eyes floated around him, blinking in unison.

  The Magic Circle pulsed in response, seeming to approve of this creation. Little Shadow chirped excitedly, darting between the floating eyes with childlike curiosity.

  Tavalor extended his hand, and one of the eyes settled onto his palm. It was lightweight, almost insubstantial, yet he could feel the magic sustaining it—a continuous thread connecting it to his consciousness.

  'Go,' he whispered, and the eye floated upward, passing through the ceiling as if it were nothing more than air.

  Immediately, his vision split—he could still see the study around him, but simultaneously, he perceived the upper floor of the manor through the eye he'd sent out. The sensation was disorienting at first, like trying to read two books at once.

  'Focus,' he reminded himself, concentrating on separating the visual streams in his mind.

  He sent the remaining eyes outward, each in a different direction. Some moved through walls, others out windows, spreading across his property and beyond. With each eye that departed, another layer of vision opened in his mind—a kaleidoscope of perspectives that threatened to overwhelm him.

  Little Shadow sensed his struggle and nestled against his neck, its cool presence somehow anchoring him. Gradually, Tavalor learned to manage the multiple streams of information, mentally organising them like panes of glass arranged around his consciousness.

  'This is... amazing,' he breathed.

  Through his constellation of eyes, he watched Emberfist training in the garden, flames dancing around her gauntleted fists as she practised a new form.

  In another direction, he observed the gardener tending to the overgrown vines that threatened to swallow the eastern wall.

  Further out, he saw gondolas gliding through Vallenport's canals, merchants setting up their stalls for the day, and nobles being carried in elaborate sedan chairs by bored-looking servants.

  He sent more eyes out, extending his range beyond what should have been possible. Instead of weakening with distance, the spell seemed to grow stronger, feeding on his draconic essence in a way that defied the usual constraints of magic.

  One eye soared above the city, giving him a bird's-eye view of Vallenport's intricate network of canals and bridges. Another drifted toward the Mages Guild, where he witnessed apprentices fumbling through their morning exercises under the stern gaze of Elarian Thorne.

  As his confidence grew, Tavalor directed an eye toward the Adventurers Guild. Through its pupil, he saw D. Crestfall in a private chamber, speaking intently with a hooded figure. Their voices came through clearly:

  '...cannot ignore the implications,' Crestfall was saying, his usual jovial manner replaced by grave concern. 'First Miragos, now this. The balance is shifting.'

  'The Watchers will not remain idle,' the hooded figure replied, voice low and measured. 'They've already begun reinforcing the Net.'

  'And what of Tavalor?' Crestfall asked. 'Where does he fit in all this?'

  Tavalor's interest piqued. They were talking about him, and something called the Net.

  What Net?

  Curious, he directed several eyes upward, beyond the clouds, past what mortal eyes could perceive. His [Dragon's Sight] enhanced the spell, allowing the eyes to pierce layers of reality that should have been impenetrable.

  What he saw left him momentarily stunned.

  Encircling the entire world was an intricate golden lattice—a web of structured magic so vast and complex that it defied comprehension.

  Each intersection in the web housed a crystalline node that pulsed with power, monitoring and regulating the flow of magic throughout the realm.

  Tracing the threads of this immense magical construct, Tavalor directed his eyes toward its centre. There, suspended in a dimension that existed alongside yet separate from the physical world, loomed a colossal golden citadel. A golden cannon on top of it.

  Its architecture was unlike anything he'd seen before—neither elven nor human nor dwarven, but something older, more fundamental, as if it had been built by beings who understood the very fabric of reality.

  'The Watchers' stronghold,' he whispered, understanding dawning. 'It's not just a metaphor—they're actually watching. All of them. Everything.'

  Also that’s where the meteor came from.

  Little Shadow chirped anxiously, sensing the shift in Tavalor's mood.

  The Net was clearly what held the rigid magic system in place—a cosmic-scale enchantment that enforced the rules the Watchers had established after the Age of Dragons. It was both prison and protection, limiting what magic could be while preventing the chaos that had nearly destroyed the world.

  As he studied the citadel more closely, he noticed movement within—golden figures like the one he'd encountered in the dungeon, moving with purpose through grand halls and chambers. There were dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, all identical yet distinct, like facets of a single consciousness split into multiple bodies.

  Suddenly, one of the golden figures paused, its featureless face turning upward as if it had sensed something amiss. It looked directly at Tavalor's magical eye, its gaze penetrating across impossible distances.

  'Impossible,' the golden figure's voice echoed in Tavalor's mind. 'No mortal sight should reach this place.'

  Alarm surged through Tavalor. He hastily recalled the eye, but it was too late—the golden figure raised its hand, and a pulse of energy shot forth, following the magical connection back toward its source.

  Tavalor severed the link just as the energy surge reached him, the backlash sending him sprawling across the study floor. Little Shadow squeaked in distress, darting around him in agitated circles.

  'I'm alright,' he assured the shadow creature, slowly pushing himself up. 'But that was... unexpected.'

  He recalled his remaining eyes, each returning to him with images and sounds from across Vallenport. Gossip from the marketplace about a noble's scandalous affair, whispers in the Mages Guild about fluctuations in the ley lines, concerns among dock workers about strange lights seen over the Storm Shores.

  The world had suddenly become much smaller, much more accessible. Yet the discovery of the Watchers' Net made it clear that he wasn't the only one watching—in fact, he had been under observation all along.

  Tavalor sat back, stroking Little Shadow thoughtfully. 'They built a cage around the world,' he mused. 'A beautiful, golden cage that most don't even realise exists. And now they know I can see it.'

  The spell needed more work. The [Dragons Eye] was powerful—perhaps too powerful to use carelessly. At least in its current from. He needed away to make it invisible.

  But it had also given him crucial insight into the true nature of this world and those who controlled it from the shadows.

  ***

  Former Free City of Miragos, aka the Glass Crater

  The glass island that Tavalor had melted lay dormant. For several weeks it was all quiet. But slowly that began to change.

  At first, it was merely a shimmer beneath the surface—a subtle distortion visible only from certain angles. Then came the cracks, hairline fractures spreading outward from the centre like a spiderweb across ice.

  Nobody noticed.

  Three weeks after Miragos fell, the glass shattered.

  From beneath the molten surface emerged creatures that hadn't been seen in the Elder Isles since before the Age of Dragons. The Chitari—insectoid beings with iridescent carapaces and multifaceted eyes that gleamed with alien intelligence. Their spindly limbs moved with unsettling precision as they swarmed forth from their subterranean prison, chattering in a language that sounded like breaking crystal.

  For millennia, they had been imprisoned beneath what became Miragos, sealed away by ancient magic that the city had unwittingly reinforced. Tavalor's cataclysmic breath had not only destroyed the city but had also shattered the magical bindings that held the Chitari at bay.

  The Elves had sent out a fleet to observe the Glass Island. They’d been dispatched by the elven council to assess the situation in Vallenport following reports of a new power rising. Their crystalline armour glinted in the moonlight as they approached the crater that had once been Miragos—a diplomatic mission turned reconnaissance.

  The Chitari attacked without warning or parley, swarming over the elven scouts with overwhelming numbers. Despite their legendary combat prowess, the elves found themselves outmatched by the sheer multitude of Chitari warriors, their synchronised fighting style disrupted by the chaos of the alien assault.

  'Fall back!' The female leader commanded, her crystal blade slicing through three Chitari in a single arc. 'We must warn Vallenport!'

  The second in command nodded, unleashing a blinding flash from her armour that momentarily disoriented their attackers. They retreated in perfect unison, leaping onto enchanted skiffs that skimmed across the water toward Vallenport.

  The Chitari pursued, their segmented bodies reforming into strange vessels that moved with uncanny speed. Arrows of crystalline chitin rained down, several piercing the commanders armour. She stumbled, blood staining her pristine white plates.

  From his manor in Vallenport, Tavalor observed the chase through his newly created [Dragons’ Eye]. The magical eyes transmitted the unfolding drama directly to his consciousness, allowing him to witness the elves desperate flight and the alien horde at their heels.

  His expression changed. A frown crossed his eyebrows. Maybe I can?

  A flutter of ancient magic connected the eye to his throat. He breathed out.

  The Chitari had nearly overtaken the elves when a beam of concentrated flame cut through their front line.

  He could breathe fire through the [Dragons’ Eye].

  The eye descended between the elves and their pursuers glowing with draconic power.

  'Get to the city,' he commanded through the eye.

  'Who-' The female commander began, but second in command pulled her onward, recognizing the opportunity.

  The [Dragons’ Eye] faced the Chitari swarm alone, its form swelling. The insectoids halted their advance, multifaceted eyes reflecting his growing silhouette. Then, as one, they retreated, disappearing beneath the waves with the same unnerving precision with which they had attacked.

  ***

  Luneth burst into Tavalor's study without knocking, her face covered in soot, but with excitement. 'I've done it!' she proclaimed, holding aloft a small vial containing what appeared to be a black pill.

  Tavalor looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow. Little Shadow, who had been napping on his desk, perked up with interest.

  'Done what, exactly?' Tavalor asked, marking his place before closing the volume.

  'Perfected my ancestors formula!' Luneth practically danced across the room. Her glasses flashed in the light. 'The Elixir of Enhanced Perception! It's what made my family famous before...' She trailed off, her enthusiasm dimming momentarily. 'Well, before everything.'

  Tavalor knew that Luneth had two consuming passions. The first—her collection of ancient keys and locks—was harmless if somewhat peculiar. The second—her attempts at alchemy—was the reason why part of his manor had needed repairs last month.

  'Is this why you were so intent on exploring that dungeon?' Tavalor asked, recalling her obsession with the key. 'Looking for alchemical secrets?'

  Luneth nodded vigorously. 'My family were once the greatest alchemists in the Elder Isles! Our formulas were sought by kings and emperors alike. This elixir was our masterpiece—it expands one's consciousness, enhances magical potential!'

  Tavalor eyed the pill dubiously. It seemed to absorb the light around it, and when Luneth uncorked the vial, a smell like rotten eggs mixed with burnt hair filled the room. Little Shadow recoiled, hiding behind a stack of books.

  'You want me to try this?' Tavalor asked incredulously.

  'Well, I've already tested it on myself,' Luneth admitted, rubbing her arm sheepishly. 'I was unconscious for three days and woke up speaking backwards, but I'm sure I've fixed those issues!'

  Tavalor took the vial, examining the pill more closely. His [Dragon Sight] revealed chaotic energy swirling within the tiny object—unstable, unpredictable, and decidedly dangerous.

  'Perhaps we should start with a smaller test subject,' he suggested diplomatically.

  Little Shadow, sensing Tavalor's intentions, chirped in alarm and attempted to flee, but Tavalor was quicker. He scooped up the shadow creature and, before it could escape, dropped the pill into its incorporeal form.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Little Shadow began to glow, its dark body suffused with multicoloured light. It expanded, contracted, and began to make a high-pitched keening sound that set Tavalor's teeth on edge.

  'Is it supposed to do that?' Tavalor asked, watching as Little Shadow's form became increasingly transparent.

  'Um, not exactly,' Luneth replied, her face paling.

  Little Shadow's body was now barely visible, its form dissipating like smoke in a strong wind. Its violet eyes, usually so bright, had dimmed to a faint glimmer.

  'Do something!' Luneth cried, panic overtaking her excitement.

  Tavalor acted instinctively, drawing on his draconic power. He enveloped Little Shadow in a cocoon of stabilising energy, channelling his essence into the fading creature. Slowly, painstakingly, Little Shadow's form began to solidify again, though it remained weak and diminished.

  'No more alchemy in my manor,' Tavalor said firmly, cradling the recovering Little Shadow. 'Stick to your keys and locks, Luneth.'

  Luneth nodded shamefacedly, but as she turned to leave, Tavalor caught the gleam of determination in her eyes. Her alchemical ambitions, it seemed, remained undimmed by yet another catastrophic failure.