The pit gates slammed shut behind Liv before she finished falling. Darkness. The stink of old blood and wet fur. Breathing, low and wet, from more directions than she could count. Then eyes began to open around her. Pair after pair. Pit-drakes. Wingless dragon-kin, bred for executions and kept hungry between them. The nearest stared at her, almost puzzled, then began to growl. The others rose to join it. Liv pressed her fingers to her ear. The sending. It ran in her blood—she had watched her aunt use it once, words carried mind to mind clear across a city. Two words were all she needed. “Kaedric—hear me—Astrid—” Nothing. Empty sound. The training that filled those words had been cancelled the night she chose a bleeding boy over her family’s blessing. “Hear me—” She tried again. And again. On the fourth try, the last of her power guttered out and took her legs with it. She hit the stones, and something already broken in her side broke further. The drakes circled now, unhurried

Astrid backed all the way into the corner, her tiny boots scraping the cold stone floor.Her mouth was locked in a tight, trembling line. Grandfather had come to look at her just seconds ago, shaking his head in cold disgust before leaving. Then this scarred man had walked in with that glowing purple light swirling faster and faster between his fingers. He was going to take her away before Father got here, and Father would never be able to find her again."My father is coming for me!" Astrid yelled through her tears, her high voice echoing off the bare walls. "He killed a big dragon today! He’s gonna find you and tear your other eye out!"The Scarred Buyer stopped rolling the glowing talisman. He let out a low, dry chuckle."Is that so?" He took a step toward her corner, his shadow completely covering her. "A dragon-slayer father. How terrifying."His face went sour. "Shut your mouth and get over here, girl. I paid a fortune for you. You're going somewhere you'll learn to behave rea

Back in the crowded market district of the Vanaheim border town, the sky hung in a perpetual, violet twilight. Glowing vines wrapped around wooden stalls, and the smell of roasted elder-boar and spiced nectar filled the air.Kaedric walked slowly through the cobblestone paths, his large hand holding Astrid’s tiny fingers. To anyone else, he looked like a powerful warrior wandering through a Vanir trading hub—but to the six-year-old girl skipping beside him, he was simply her father."Father, did you see that?" Astrid gasped, pointing wildly with her free hand at a floating crystal automaton hovering over a stall. It spun in the air, humming soft runic melodies while casting tiny illusion-butterflies into the crowd."We need to get something to eat first, honey," Liv reminded her gently, her voice soft but strained as she walked half a step behind them. "That is why we came here.""Father, look! Can you see that one over there?" Astrid was already distracted, her eyes shining as she po

Kaedric used Uncle Rothgar's hijacked body just long enough to tear through the realm-layer and drop them onto neutral soil. He had no intention of keeping the old snake around. As soon as they hit the ground, Kaedric dumped Rothgar off in a desolate, forgotten clearing. Before leaving him in the dirt, Kaedric had noticed something etched into the uncle's flesh—a dark, pulsing blood-brand. What Rothgar was too foolish to realize was that Lord Malvik had never truly "restored" his power out of mercy. The Dark Lord of Svartheim had turned him into a branded thrall—a slave whose very soul was tethered to a leash. Rothgar wasn't a master planner. He was a disposable pawn. Kaedric took to the night sky, carrying his family across the quiet boundary of the outer district. "Father, look! That’s a house down there!" Astrid’s small voice called out, pointing toward a tiny, isolated cottage sitting at the edge of the woods. Kaedric looked down. It was indeed a modest, rustic dwelling, isol

A suffocating silence fell over the clearing. This lie was his only way to survive. If his masters back in Svartheim found out he lost the dragon-child—and realized he had been trafficking bloodlines for personal profit—death would be a mercy compared to what they would do to him. He needed Vanaheim to execute these intruders now. The Scarred Buyer’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he thought his chest would explode. Wait... where were they? Standing in the center of the clearing wasn't a lethal dragon-warrior, a mother, and a young girl. It was just an old, shivering woman, a stooped dwarf leaning on a pickaxe, a tired farm wife, and a sickly young boy sleeping on a rag mat. “M-My lords...” the old woman trembled, her raspy voice cutting through the silent ranks of armed guards. “It was getting cold... we just built a temporary shelter to rest for the night. We didn't mean to cause any trouble...” Kaedric said nothing. He simply stood beside Liv, his dwarven guise hidin