Chapter 118 Seraphine
Lucian leaned back, studying Kael with sharp eyes. “You’re not here to justify yourself, are you?”
“No,” Kael said. “I’m here because she asked me to come.”
All eyes slid to me.
I sighed. “Your shadow dragonborn needs guidance. And hiding from your mistakes won’t help her.”
Kael looked down at his hands. “I’ll do better.”
Dante spoke then, voice low but firm. “You will. Or you won’t be welcome near any of them.”
Kael met his gaze. “Understood.”
The women watched him carefully—but not with fear this time.
With consideration.
I leaned back into my chair, exhaustion tugging at my bones, and felt my dragon settle again, thoughtful.
This, she said, is harder than fire.
I smiled faintly.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “But it’s working.”
Lucian broke the tension first, because of course he did.
“So,” he said, spearing a piece of chicken. “On a scale from one to I’ve survived worse, how’s everyone holding up?”
One of the water dragonborn snorted softly. “Is sarcasm part of the healing process?”
“Absolutely,” Lucian replied. “It’s practically medicinal.”
Amara shot him a look. “You’re not a doctor.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I am very hydrated.”
That earned a few reluctant laughs.
Elowen cleared her throat. “The food is… really good,” she said carefully, like she was testing whether normal conversation was still allowed.
“It’s Thai,” Dante said. “Lucian insisted.”
“I will always insist,” Lucian said proudly. “Spice reminds the body it’s alive.”
Viviane nodded. “That explains why my tongue feels like it’s being judged.”
I smiled faintly, watching shoulders loosen, watching people breathe again.
One of the other women leaned forward. “Has anyone else noticed their dragon gets louder when they’re tired?”
“Yes,” Amara said immediately. “That’s normal. Annoying, but normal.”
Lucian blinked. “Wait, louder how?”
“Mine keeps commenting on posture,” the woman said flatly. “I slouched once and she called me a disgrace.”
Valin choked on his drink. “Storm dragons are… blunt.”
Viviane arched a brow. “Yours tried to elect itself as my life coach.”
“That sounds accurate,” Valin muttered.
Across the table, the shadow dragonborn — the one who’d been quiet all evening — finally spoke.
“Mine doesn’t talk like that,” she said. Her voice was steady, but her fingers were tight around her fork. “It doesn’t… speak much at all. It just watches. Like it’s waiting for me to mess up.”
The table stilled.
Kael looked up then.
Not sharply. Not defensively.
Just… attentive.
“That’s normal for shadow,” he said quietly. “They don’t rush trust. They observe first. Learn the shape of you before they decide how close to stand.”
Her eyes flicked to him. “So it’s not judging me?”
Kael shook his head once. “No. It’s protecting you. Shadow doesn’t shout. It shields.”
She let out a breath she’d clearly been holding. “That’s… comforting. In a creepy way.”
A corner of Kael’s mouth lifted. “That’s shadow in a sentence.”
Elowen hesitated, then spoke again, voice softer. “Mine doesn’t talk much yet either. Mostly feelings. Pressure. Like a storm building, but… hopeful.”
Valin glanced at her, really looked this time. “That’s not a bad sign,” he said gently. “Storm dragons wait until they trust the ground beneath them.”
Kael nodded in agreement. “They test stability. If they feel hope, it means they don’t think you’ll break.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Oh.”
Dante leaned closer to me, murmuring, “You did that.”
I shook my head. “They did.”
Across the table, one of the women poked at her rice. “What happens next?” she asked quietly. “Like… tomorrow?”
Lucian set his fork down. “Tomorrow, you rest. You sleep. You eat. You learn to coexist with something ancient that just moved in.”
“And after that?” another asked.
I answered before anyone else could.
“After that, you choose,” I said. “Where you want to be. Who you want near you. No one decides that for you again.”
Silence followed — thick, but not heavy.
Kael inclined his head slightly. “Shadow territory will take in any who wish it. No bindings. No expectations. Just space to learn.”
Valin nodded once. “Storm territory will do the same.”
Viviane exhaled slowly, relief flickering across her face.
Elowen glanced between them, then at me, and asked shyly, “Is it… okay to be nervous?”
Amara smiled at her. “If you weren’t, I’d be worried.”
The knock came sharp and sudden.
Three solid raps against the door.
Every single person at the table jumped.
Forks clinked. Chairs scraped. One of the women actually hissed under her breath, shoulders going tight like she was bracing for impact.
Inside me, my dragon stirred—alert, coiling fast.
Careful, she warned, low and immediate. Too clean. Too deliberate.
My spine straightened instinctively.
Lucian was already on his feet.
“I’ve got it,” he said quickly, holding up a hand before Dante or Valin could move. His tone was calm, but the water in the air thickened just a hair, pressure building the way it always did when he was ready for trouble.
He crossed the room and pulled the door open.
Then he froze.
“…Dad?”
The word landed like a dropped plate.
I stood halfway out of my chair.
In the doorway stood Lukas.
Not in ceremonial robes. Not flanked by guards.
Just Lukas—coat dark, posture straight, eyes sharp and assessing as they flicked past Lucian and into the room beyond him. He took in the gathered women, the kings, the half-eaten plates of Thai food, the tension still clinging to the walls.
“Well,” Lukas said mildly. “This explains why no one answered their phones.”
Lucian blinked. “You—how did you—”
“Storm territory is loud when it’s anxious,” Lukas replied. “And Fire territory burns brighter when it’s trying to pretend it isn’t.” His gaze shifted, landing on me.
I stepped forward, slowly, deliberately.
“Lukas,” I said. Not a question. A greeting.
His eyes sharpened at the sound of my voice.
Then—very deliberately—he inclined his head.
Not deeply.
But enough.
“High Priestess,” he said. “I hoped I wasn’t too late. I won’t stay long,” Lukas continued. “But what’s coming next will require clarity. And consent.” His eyes flicked briefly to the women seated around the table. “From everyone.”
My dragon hummed, wary but not hostile.
He’s not lying, she said. But he’s afraid.
Good, I thought. He should be.
I gestured toward the table. “Then you should sit,” I said. “Because we were just talking about what happens tomorrow.”
Lukas studied me for a heartbeat longer.
Then he stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him.
“Very well,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk.”