Chapter 179: The Departure of the Dragons
**The Next Morning**
Breakfast had been set in the royal sunroom, bathed in golden morning light pouring through the tall windows overlooking the still-silent gardens. The table was a feast: fresh bread, sliced fruit, steaming tea, hot chocolate for Loric, and even sweet pastries made just for Soraya, who hated savory breakfasts.
The vibe was calm, almost homey, and for the first time since their arrival, Lya allowed herself to relax, sitting between Caleb and Loric, a warm cup of tea cradled in her hands.
Soren, on his end, was trying to stay polite, maybe even friendly, as if attempting to rebuild the fragile trust they’d pieced together the day before. He had owned up to his mistakes, made his apologies, and for now, things were… okay.
Until he spoke. Too much.
"Once you’re done, I’ll have cars prepared to take you back to Sacred Moon," he said while spooning some jam onto his toast. "You’ll travel comfortably. By car. Not on dragonback this time."
A freezing silence fell.
Lya looked up slowly. Not sharply. Not with any sudden movement. Just… slowly. Like a storm spotting its next ship to sink.
Her blue eyes met Soren’s. No yelling. No flare of temper. It was worse. That cold, sovereign calm made it painfully clear: he’d crossed a line.
“Excuse me?” she whispered, setting her teacup down without breaking eye contact.
Caleb calmly chewed on a piece of bread, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. He’d heard. He wasn’t going to stop it. This? He was going to enjoy.
Even Drake froze, a brioche halfway to his mouth.
Soraya and Lina turned their heads toward the Lycan King, slowly—like two dragons who’d just had their tails stepped on.
Soren blinked, realizing way too late.
“I just meant… for comfort,” he tried, his voice tighter than he would’ve liked. “Flying must be exhausting, right?”
Big mistake. Huge.
Lya stood up—not in a rage, not with visible fury. No.
She rose like a storm rolling in on the horizon. Slow. Powerful. Inevitable.
She moved around the table with silent grace, each step calculated, every motion carrying the deadly elegance of a born predator.
“Exhausting?” she repeated, her voice so calm it was more dangerous than a roar. “No. It’s natural. Instinctive. A source of pride.”
She stopped just a few feet from Soren, her presence towering in a way no Lycan king could ignore.
“But I get it. It’s not your world. Not your reality. Not your blood.”
She tilted her head slightly, her icy stare locked on his.
“You know, Soren, I thought you’d learned your lesson… the day you looked at me with contempt, because I was, in your words, ‘just a human.’”
A beat. Sharp and loaded.
“Was I wrong?”
Her tone dropped—soft, clear, and dripping with frozen venom.
“I don’t tolerate mockery of my origins. Not as a joke. Not to lighten the mood. Not even by accident.”
The room went dead silent.
Even Loric, chocolate still smeared on his lips, looked up with a frown. He didn’t get all the words—but he knew. Mommy was not happy.
Soren swallowed. Way too slowly.
“That wasn’t my intention…” he muttered, clearly uneasy.
But Lya wasn’t done.
She straightened to her full height, radiating the aura of a dragon queen in full command.
“Then choose your words better, Soren. Because next time you make a comment about what I am, I’ll remind you of one very simple thing—”
Her eyes gleamed like ancient steel.
“Dragons don’t just fly for pleasure.”
She leaned in just slightly.
“They fly over ruins, too.”
And with that, without another word, without even glancing back, she turned with the poise of a contained storm, sat back down between Caleb and Loric, and calmly lifted her teacup again like nothing had happened.
Silence.
Then Drake leaned toward Caleb and whispered, “Damn, I love it when she uses that frozen-queen tone. You think I can hire her for my next suck-up diplomat meeting?”
Caleb, not even looking up from his plate, murmured back with a smirk, “You can try. Just have your will ready. And a good lawyer.”
At the far end of the table, Soren quietly resumed buttering his toast.
Very. Slowly. In. Silence.
But Lya wasn’t done making a statement.
She had a kingdom to defend. A pack to protect. And a message to send.
The dragons were back.
And this time, they were staying.
Barely an hour after breakfast, the Sacred Moon group was heading to the palace’s outer gardens. Wide stone terraces overlooked vast lawns, bordered by misty mountains in the distance. The breeze rustled dew-covered leaves.
Caleb walked in front, Loric cradled in his arms—still sleepy, but awake. Drake followed silently, unusually serious.
On either side of Lya walked Soraya and Lina, calm but focused. They knew what was coming. And it would be remembered.
Up on the palace balconies, the Lycan advisors had been “invited”—well, forced—to attend what was about to happen.
Lya met Soraya and Lina’s eyes.
One simple nod.
No words needed. Everything had already been said.
She stepped forward, the wind tugging at her white hair. And in a clear voice—no anger, no arrogance—she said:
“Seems some people need a reminder.”
She closed her eyes.
And in a flash of supernatural blue light, her body shifted.
It lengthened, grew, reshaped in utter silence until there stood the most imposing of the three dragons:
A massive black dragon, her polished scales absorbing light, laced with blue and silver glints like a night sky before a storm.
Her enormous wings spread with a low rumble, darkening the sun, while her breath created a bluish mist around her snout.
Curved horns etched with glowing veins pulsed with royal magic.
Down below, Caleb watched her, pride shining in his eyes. Then he looked at Loric, who stared up at his mother with a mix of awe and absolute belief.
“That’s Mommy,” the boy whispered.
Then Soraya shifted.
Her form curved with a soft emerald glow, and the dragon that emerged was stunning—noble, ancient, full of wisdom.
Her emerald scales shimmered in the morning light like enchanted leaves. Slender and graceful, she exuded timeless strength.
Golden eyes gleamed with intelligence, and ancient runes shimmered faintly down her sides.
She didn’t roar. She bowed—just slightly—to her princess.
Then came Lina.
She leapt with energy, transforming mid-air in a burst of moss-green light.
Her dragon form was smaller, built for speed. Her wings snapped through the air with precision and power.
Her mossy green scales, edged with lighter streaks, shimmered with every move.
Her mischievous eyes already challenged anyone foolish enough to underestimate her.
Three dragons. Three ages. Three spirits.
One force.
On the balconies above, whispers erupted. Some advisors even stepped back.
And Lya, majestic in her enormity, turned her head slowly to face them.
She didn’t need to roar.
Her silence said it all.
The dragons were back.
They weren’t guests.
They were rebuilding a dynasty.
And this time, no one—absolutely no one—would be allowed to forget it.