Ace struggled against the invisible force binding her.

  Cold chains of shadow wrapped around her arms, waist, and legs, pinning her tightly to the heavy stone chair. They pulsed faintly with black electricity—alive with her mother’s power.

  Across the chamber, Drakorya paced.

  Her rings floated slowly around her head, humming with authority as shadow chains trailed behind her like restless serpents.

  “This won’t work,” she muttered.

  Her voice was low, tense—almost… worried.

  “She won’t fit in. She asks too many questions.”

  As she turned, a reddish-green claw formed over her hand. With a sharp motion she dragged it across one of the stone pillars beside her.

  SCREEEEEECH.

  The sound echoed violently through the chamber as sparks flew from the carved surface.

  Ace flinched.

  She couldn’t move.

  She couldn’t even turn her head.

  “Mother… I don’t understand,” Ace whispered quickly, fear trembling in her voice. “I’m sorry for being curious. I won’t question you again. Please… don’t be angry.”

  Drakorya stopped pacing.

  Slowly, she turned her head toward her daughter.

  Ace swallowed hard.

  “I will follow your rules,” she said quickly. “Your orders. Please… explain again. About our history. About the Valley.”

  The chamber doors opened behind her.

  Footsteps entered.

  Queen skipped inside first, giggling softly—bright, carefree, innocent in a way she would never be again.

  Behind her walked Vespera.

  Silent.

  Watching everything.

  Always listening.

  Drakorya exhaled once.

  “…Since you are all here,” she said, her voice settling into something colder, something formal, “I will go over what you should already remember.”

  Her rings drifted forward, floating over the table before them. The shadow chains followed, hovering like living ribbons of darkness.

  They began to glow.

  Small illusions of dragons formed in the air.

  Drakorya’s voice filled the chamber like rolling thunder.

  “In the Valley of Dragons,” she began, “strength is not freedom.”

  “It is ownership.”

  The glowing illusions shifted.

  An image of the valley appeared—vast, majestic, beautiful.

  Then chains formed around it.

  “Our civilization is built upon three unbreakable pillars.”

  The illusions burned brighter.

  Control.

  Hierarchy.

  Bloodline.

  “When a hatchling cracks its shell,” Drakorya continued, “it is not given a name.”

  “It is given a role.”

  Ace felt her chest tighten.

  “They are taught obedience before identity. Loyalty before love.”

  The illusions showed hatchlings bowing before elders.

  Training.

  Submission.

  “Because in dragon society, one truth stands above all others.”

  Her voice deepened.

  “Your strength… belongs to the nest.”

  The illusions shifted again.

  A towering throne formed.

  “At the peak stands Dragon Queen Penny,” Drakorya said. “Absolute authority over all bloodlines.”

  The image of Penny appeared—regal, terrifying, untouchable.

  “Below her is her sister, Kimpy—the enforcer of law. The judge of tradition.”

  Another illusion formed—sharp-eyed, merciless.

  “Then comes the High Dragon Council.”

  Six immense shadows appeared behind them.

  “Ancient elders who govern lineage, contracts, and punishment.”

  Her rings pulsed brighter.

  “Among them… is myself.”

  Queen stared in awe.

  Ace felt only fear.

  “Below us stand dragons ranked by status.”

  Warriors.

  Nobles.

  Bloodline heirs.

  “And at the bottom…”

  The illusions darkened.

  “Those bound by the Pact of the Valley.”

  The chains tightened slightly around Ace’s arms as if to emphasize the words.

  “The Pact is simple,” Drakorya said.

  “Serve your nest. Strengthen your bloodline. Never question the order.”

  The illusions shattered.

  “Those who do…”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “…disappear.”

  Queen stopped smiling.

  Vespera said nothing.

  Ace felt cold.

  “In dragon culture,” Drakorya continued, “love does not protect you.”

  “Only possession does.”

  The illusions showed female dragons battling males.

  “Females do not court.”

  “They claim.”

  Her voice was absolute—like she was reciting scripture.

  “We take the mate we want.”

  “Through combat.”

  “If she wins, he belongs to her.”

  “No refusal.”

  “No choice.”

  “Only victory.”

  Queen’s innocent smile faltered.

  Ace’s stomach twisted.

  Drakorya’s rings dimmed slightly.

  “Remember this,” she said.

  “This is not cruelty.”

  “This is survival.”

  But Ace remembered what she had seen.

  A female elder tearing a male’s throat open at a feast—not for war, but for speaking out of turn.

  Hatchlings drilled into obedience.

  Mates chosen like property.

  Dragons disappearing after asking forbidden questions.

  Where did they go?

  No one answered.

  No one dared.

  The illusions faded.

  Drakorya’s voice softened—just enough to be more frightening.

  “To outsiders, the Valley seems glorious.”

  “Ancient.”

  “Powerful.”

  “Noble.”

  But Ace felt it differently.

  Like chains.

  Like a cage.

  A prison wrapped in tradition.

  And in that moment—

  even as a child—

  Ace knew.

  One day she would leave.

  One day Queen would follow.

  And one day…

  Vespera would stay behind.

  Because some dragons believe the system must change from within.

  And others…

  believe it must be escaped entirely.