The private jet, a sleek marvel of modern engineering that had cruised effortlessly at thirty thousand feet, began to scream. It wasn't a mechanical failure at least, not one that could be diagnosed by a computer. It was the sound of aerodynamics fighting against magic.
"Turbulence!" the pilot shouted over the intercom, his voice cracking with panic. "I'm losing navigational systems! The altimeter is spinning! We have entered a magnetic anomaly!"
Simon gripped the armrests of his leather seat, his knuckles turning white. But it wasn't fear that made his hands shake; it was resonance.
Below them, the clouds had parted, revealing a landscape that looked like an open wound on the earth's crust. The Scorch Lands. It was a continent of black volcanic rock, jagged obsidian peaks, and rivers of molten lava that glowed like angry veins in the twilight.
The "Third Pull" hit Simon with the force of a sledgehammer.
Unlike the gentle, ethereal tug of the Star, or the deep, gravitational gravity of the Ocean, the call of the Dragon was violent. It felt like someone had poured liquid lead down his spine. It burned. It demanded. It roared.
'GET OUT,' a voice screamed in his head. It wasn't a whisper. It was a blast of psychic heat that smelled of sulfur and rage.
"She knows we're here," Simon gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt as the plane banked sharply to the left, narrowly missing a plume of ash rising from a vent.
"We have to land!" Joanna yelled from across the aisle. She looked wretched. The hydration collar around her neck was glowing a faint blue, working overtime to pull moisture from the cabin air, but her skin was pale and dry. To a creature of the deep, this environment was hell. "Get this tin can on the ground before the air pressure kills me!"
"We can't land!" Evelyn argued, looking out the window. "There's no runway! It's all jagged rock and lava!"
"I'm putting her down on the salt flats to the west!" the pilot announced. "Brace for impact!"
The jet dived. The engines whined in protest as the thick, ash-choked air clogged their intakes. The descent was a blur of shaking metal and flashing warning lights.
Simon reached across the aisle, grabbing Evelyn's hand with his left and Joanna's hand with his right.
"Hold on!" he roared.
CRUNCH.
The landing gear sheared off the moment it touched the uneven ground. The jet slammed onto its belly, sliding across the hardened black earth in a shower of sparks that screamed against the obsidian. The cabin rattled violently, luggage flying from the overhead bins.
Then, with a final, groaning lurch, the plane came to a stop.
Silence descended, broken only by the hiss of cooling metal and the distant, rhythmic booming of the volcanic vents.
"Everyone alive?" Simon asked, coughing as dust filled the cabin.
"I hate the surface," Joanna moaned, unbuckling her belt and slumping back in her seat. "I hate it so much. Why is the ground so hard? Why is the air so spicy?"
"It's sulfur," Evelyn coughed, pulling a silk scarf over her nose and mouth. She checked Simon. "Are you okay?"
Simon looked at his hands. The blue scales that had covered his skin in the Lagoon were gone, retreated deep beneath his pores to hide from the heat. In their place, a faint, golden shimmer was beginning to rise on his forearms. His skin felt feverish, hot to the touch.
"I'm fine," Simon said, though his voice sounded deeper, raspier. "Let's get out before the fuel tanks decide to join the party."
Stepping out of the wrecked plane was like stepping into an oven. The heat was physical a wall of thermal energy that slapped them in the face. It was easily a hundred and ten degrees, and the air was dry as a bone.
The pilot, a human mercenary paid by the Lagoon Kingdom, scrambled out of the cockpit. "I'm staying with the plane," he choked out, pulling an emergency beacon from his vest. "I'm not walking into that. That mountain... it's looking at us."
He pointed toward the horizon.
Rising miles into the sky was the central peak of the Dragon Nest. It was a massive, cone-shaped volcano, its summit shrouded in a perpetual storm of dark, red-tinged clouds. Lightning didn't strike down from the sky; it struck up from the crater, jagged bolts of crimson energy arcing into the heavens.
"That's it," Simon whispered. The pull in his gut was agonizing now, dragging him toward that peak.
"Great," Joanna muttered, adjusting her collar. She stepped onto the black rock, her boots crunching on the ash. "Only a vertical climb up an active volcano. Should be a breeze. I might dry out and turn into fish jerky halfway up, but don't mind me."
"Drink this," Evelyn said, handing Joanna a canteen of enhanced water she had salvaged from the wreckage. "And stay close to me. I can try to bend the light to reflect some of the heat away from you."
Joanna looked at the Starlight heir, surprised. She took the canteen. "You'd waste your magic on me, Pet? I thought we were enemies."
"We're allies," Evelyn corrected firmly. "And if you dry out, Simon has to carry you. And he has enough to carry already."
Joanna snorted, taking a swig of water. "Fair point. Lead the way, Wolf. Before I change my mind and crawl back into the fuselage."
The trek across the foothills was grueling. The ground was treacherous sharp obsidian shards that could slice through boot soles, hidden pockets of steam that erupted without warning, and rivers of slow-moving lava that forced them to take long detours.
Simon took the lead. To his surprise, the heat didn't weaken him. It fueled him.
Every step he took on the scorched earth felt right. The Dragon blood in his veins, dormant for seventeen years, was waking up with a vengeance. His muscles felt loose and powerful. His vision shifted, the world taking on a thermal overlay where he could see the heat signatures of the lava flows beneath the crust.
"Simon, slow down!" Evelyn called out, panting. She was red-faced, sweat drenching her clothes. The "Breath of the Sea" vial was still corked in her pocket she was saving it for the higher altitude but the ash was taking its toll.
Simon stopped, turning back. He looked different. His posture was more predatory, his movements sharper. His turquoise eyes were rimmed with a burning gold.
"Sorry," he rumbled. He walked back to her, offering his arm. "The heat... it makes me want to run. It makes me want to hunt."
"Well, suppress it," Joanna snapped, leaning heavily on her trident, which she was using as a walking stick. Her skin was glistening with a strange sheen—the moisture collar working hard to keep a layer of hydration on her dermis. "We aren't hunting. We are trespassing. And I have a feeling the landlord isn't happy."
As if on cue, a howl echoed across the wasteland.
It wasn't a wolf's howl. It sounded like metal grinding on stone, a screeching, dissonant roar that made the hair on Simon's arms stand up.
"What was that?" Evelyn whispered, moving closer to Simon.
"Guardians," Simon said, his eyes scanning the thermal landscape. He saw them three distinct heat signatures moving rapidly toward them from the east. They were hot. hotter than the surrounding rock. "Incoming! Three o'clock!"
From behind a ridge of jagged rock, three beasts emerged.
They were nightmare fuel. Ash Stalkers. They looked like large, reptilian cats, but their skin was made of cracked, cooling magma. Fire glowed in their throats and eyes. They didn't have fur; they had spines of obsidian running down their backs.
"Cute," Joanna deadpanned, raising her trident. "Fire cats. My favorite."
The Stalkers circled them, hissing steam. They were testing the group, sensing the intruders.
"Don't attack," Simon warned, holding up a hand. "They belong to the Dragon. If we kill them, we declare war before we even knock on the door."
"They look like they want to eat us, Simon!" Evelyn cried as one of the Stalkers lunged, snapping its jaws inches from her leg.
"Back!" Simon roared.
He didn't use his Wolf voice. He used the Voice of the Dragon—a command laced with ancient, reptilian authority.
The lead Stalker hesitated. It looked at Simon, sniffing the air. It smelled the Wolf. It smelled the Ocean. But underneath it all, it smelled the Gold. It smelled the blood of the King.
It snarled, confused. It didn't retreat, but it stopped circling.
However, the other two weren't as discerning. They saw Joanna—a creature of water, anathema to their existence—and they attacked.
One leaped at Joanna.
"Oh, no you don't!" Joanna shouted. She thrust her trident forward.
Normally, the weapon would blast a sonic wave or a jet of water. But here, in the dry, magic-dampening air of the Scorch Lands, the trident sputtered. A weak stream of water shot out, hitting the Stalker in the face.
The water turned to steam instantly. The Stalker shrieked, blinded but furious. It swiped a massive claw at Joanna.
She dodged, but the obsidian claws raked across her arm, tearing through her windbreaker. She hissed, backing up. "My magic is weak here! The air is too dry!"
The third Stalker lunged at Evelyn.
Evelyn threw up a shield of Starlight. The beast hit the barrier of white light and bounced off, yelping. But the impact shattered the shield, sending Evelyn stumbling backward onto the sharp rocks.
"Evelyn!" Simon shouted.
The Stalker recovered instantly, crouching to spring at the fallen girl.
Simon didn't think. He didn't plan. He just reacted.
The Dragon woke up.
He didn't shift into a wolf. He didn't grow a tail.
He opened his mouth and *roared*.
"ZOL-KRA!" (An ancient draconic command meaning *Kneel*).
A blast of pure heat erupted from Simon. It wasn't a fireball. It was a shockwave of Alpha dominance, colored a brilliant, blinding gold.
The shockwave hit the Stalkers like a physical wall. They were thrown backward, tumbling over the rocks.
Simon stood there, his chest heaving. His skin was glowing. Scales—gold, glittering, and impenetrable—had erupted across his chest and neck, forming a partial breastplate. His eyes were no longer turquoise. They were vertical slits of burning liquid gold.
The Stalkers scrambled to their feet. They looked at Simon. They whimpered.
They lowered their heads, pressing their chins to the hot ground in submission. They recognized the signature. This wasn't just an intruder. This was a Prince.
Joanna stared at him, clutching her bleeding arm. "Well," she breathed, impressed despite herself. "That was loud."
Simon blinked, the gold fading slightly from his vision. He looked at Evelyn, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"Are you okay?" he rasped, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke.
"I'm fine," Evelyn said, standing up and brushing ash from her clothes. "You... you spoke Dragon."
"I guess I did," Simon muttered, touching his throat. It felt raw, burnt.
He turned to the Stalkers. "Leave us."
The beasts turned and fled, disappearing into the heat haze.
"We need to keep moving," Simon said, the urgency returning. "That roar... it was a beacon. If Peace didn't know exactly where we were before, she definitely knows now."
The ascent of the volcano proper began an hour later. The path was a winding trail carved into the sheer rock face, likely by dragons claws centuries ago.
The air grew thinner. Evelyn finally uncorked the vial of "Breath of the Sea." A bubble of fresh, clean air formed around her head, allowing her to breathe normally, though her legs were burning from the exertion.
Joanna was suffering. Her skin was beginning to crack despite the collar. She moved slowly, her usual grace replaced by a grim determination.
"Do you want me to carry you?" Simon asked, pausing on a ledge.
"Touch me and you lose a hand, Wolf," Joanna wheezed. "I can walk. I just need... moisture."
Simon looked at the path ahead. There was no water. Only rock and fire.
He had an idea. He reached for the canteen Evelyn carried. It was nearly empty.
"Give me the bottle," Simon said.
Evelyn handed it to him.
Simon held the bottle in his hands. He closed his eyes. He tapped into the "Lagoon" part of his soul the part that was currently being suppressed by the Dragon fire. It was hard. It felt like trying to light a candle in a hurricane.
But he focused on the memory of the training session. The feeling of the water pressure.
Condense.
He pushed his will into the air inside the bottle. He pulled the trace humidity from the atmosphere, gathering it, compressing it.
Slowly, droplet by droplet, the bottle began to fill. It wasn't much maybe half a cup but it was cool, created from his own magical reserve.
He handed it to Joanna.
"Drink," he ordered.
Joanna looked at the water. She looked at him. She saw the strain on his face using water magic in a fire kingdom was exhausting him.
She took the bottle and drank. She sighed, her skin looking slightly less grey.
"Thank you," she muttered. "That tasted like... effort."
"It tasted like survival," Simon said. "Let's go."
They reached the Gates of the Nest at sunset.
The gates were massive, towering slabs of obsidian fifty feet high, etched with glowing runes of fire. They stood closed, barring the way to the crater city beyond.
Simon walked up to the gates. He felt small.
"Open!" he shouted, his voice echoing against the metal. "I am Simon Peter! Son of the Wolf! Grandson of the Dragon! I seek audience with the King!"
Silence answered him.
Then, the air pressure dropped. The static electricity raised the hair on their arms.
Above them, atop the massive stone archway of the gate, the clouds parted.
A figure landed on the archway.
She didn't look like a girl. She looked like a goddess of war.
Peace, the Dragon Heir, stood silhouetted against the crimson lightning. She wore armor made of red dragon scales. Her hair was a mane of copper and gold that whipped violently in the wind. In her hand, she held a whip made of woven flame.
She looked down at them. Her eyes were burning coals.
She didn't speak. She cracked the whip.
SNAP.
A line of fire slashed across the ground just inches from Simon's boots, turning the rock to molten slag.
"Go home, Mongrel," Peace's voice boomed, amplified by magic. "The Nest is closed to wet dogs and fish."
Simon didn't flinch. He stepped over the line of molten rock.
"I'm not leaving, Peace," Simon shouted back. "The Void is coming! The Eye is watching! We need the Fire!"
"We need nothing!" Peace screamed. "The Dragons stand alone! If you take one more step, I will turn you into ash and scatter you to the four winds!"
She raised her hand. A ball of concentrated fire, white-hot and swirling, formed in her palm.
Evelyn gasped, raising her hands to form a shield. Joanna raised her trident, though she looked too weak to use it.
Simon looked up at the girl who was supposed to be his third mate. He felt the bond. It was there, buried under layers of anger and pride. It was a roaring furnace.
"Do it!" Simon challenged, spreading his arms. "Burn me! But know that if you burn me, you burn the only chance this world has of surviving the darkness!"
Peace hesitated. The fireball pulsed in her hand. She looked at Simon really looked at him. She saw the gold scales on his chest. She saw the defiance in his eyes.
For a second, the anger in her face flickered, replaced by something else. Curiosity? Recognition?
Then, the heavy obsidian gates behind her groaned.
They began to open.
"Let him in, Peace," a deep, ancient voice rumbled from within the city. "The boy has his grandmother's mouth. Let us see if he has her courage."
Peace scowled. She extinguished the fireball with a clenched fist.
"You're lucky, Wolf," she hissed, jumping down from the archway and landing in front of him with a heavy thud that cracked the ground.
She stood nose-to-chest with him. She smelled of smoke, cinnamon, and raw power.
"But inside these walls," she whispered, poking a finger into his chest, right on his golden scales, "you don't give the orders. I do. Welcome to the Nest. Try not to melt."
She turned and walked through the opening gates.
Simon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked at Evelyn and Joanna.
"She seems nice," Joanna deadpanned, wiping sweat from her brow.
"She's terrifying," Evelyn admitted, lowering her shield.
"She's perfect," Simon whispered, the Dragon in him purring with approval.
He stepped through the gates. The heat inside was intense, but Simon smiled. He had walked through the forest. He had swum through the deep. Now, he was ready to walk through the fire.
The Tribrid was finally whole. Now, the real training could begin.