The soreness lingered in Kalia's steps as she emerged from the last hut, a dull throb that reminded her just how long Ragnar had taken her from behind.
The pleasure had been sharp, addictive even, but now her body paid the price. Still, her old back pain had vanished, as if her insides had been reshaped around him.
She almost smiled at the absurdity of it, then shook her head and scanned the village again. Nothing. No trace, no clue.
Then she spotted him.
Ragnar walked toward the chief's hut with that steady, unhurried stride of his. Before she could call out, a voice rolled from inside—deep, female, and calm as still water.
Every instinct in Kalia locked. Her breath caught. It was a Predator. The word screamed through her mind even though the tone carried no threat, only certainty.
She froze mid-step, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Ragnar didn't flinch. He answered without hesitation.
A pause. Then the voice again, measured. "Interesting."
A woman stepped into the sunlight.
Dragon horns curved from her head like a crown. Her frame was tall, proud, skin pale as fresh milk.
Scales glinted across her chest, she had a curvaceous body. She moved with deliberate stillness—no wasted motion, no jiggle, just quiet power.
Her presence pressed against the air like a held breath.
Ragnar stared. Not openly leering, but unable to look away.
The woman noticed. One brow arched. She rested a hand on her hip—casual, commanding.
"Finished appraising me?" Her voice stayed even, almost amused. "Now tell me. What item were you delivering?"
Ragnar swallowed once, then met her gaze. "The fang of an outcast princess."
Her eyes sharpened. For the first time something flickered—real interest. "A fang?"
She stepped closer. "Give it to me. It belongs to me."
Ragnar's fingers tightened around the object in his palm. "How do I know you're not just trying to take it?"
She regarded him for a long moment. "Because it is my daughter's fang"
The words landed like a stone in still water. Ragnar straightened, disbelief carving lines into his face. "Your daughter? The outcast princess is your daughter?"
She inclined her head once. "Yes."
Sarah and Aria burst into the clearing then, voices overlapping.
"Ragnar—did you find anything?" Sarah called, hurrying forward with Aria at her side.
The woman's patience snapped like dry wood. In the heartbeat Ragnar glanced toward the sound, she lunged—claws flashing.
A sharp chime rang in Ragnar's mind.
*Item theft attempt detected. Forced inventory storage engaged.*
He leaped back, landing beside the girls. His pulse hammered. "System—did she just try to steal it?"
"Affirmative, host."
Ragnar's jaw clenched. He faced her again. "So it was all lies."
She only smiled—slow, certain—and lunged once more.
Ragnar exploded forward. The ground split beneath his boots as he closed the distance.
She sidestepped with liquid grace, her hand whipping toward his ribs.
Bella was there before the blow landed. She took the strike square in the chest.
Wind blasted outward from the impact, flattening grass in a circle, but Bella didn't budge.
The woman's eyes widened fractionally. "You..." She glanced between Ragnar and Bella. "A kobold of that strength. And... whatever you are."
Her gaze flicked to the bunny ears. "This grows more curious by the moment."
Then the sky darkened.
A vast shadow swallowed the sun. Everyone looked up—except the woman. She smiled.
"Right on time," she murmured.
The dragon descended, massive, jet-black, crowned with jagged horns. Its wings stirred a gale that bent trees.
Power radiated from it in waves, thick enough to taste.
Kalia's knees nearly buckled. Sarah grabbed Aria's arm, eyes huge. Even Bella took an involuntary half-step back.
Ragnar's stomach lurched. Every muscle in his body screamed *run*—primal, animal terror clawing up his spine.
His legs trembled. Sweat prickled his palms. This wasn't tactical alertness. This was bone-deep doubt, a flash of real fear that he might die here, that everything he'd built with these girls could end in seconds.
But he didn't move.
They were watching him. Kalia's eyes were wide with something close to faith. Sarah's grip on her weapon shook, but she held position.
Aria stood ready to shield. Bella's stance never wavered, though her tail lashed once.
They would die for him. Without hesitation.
The thought hit harder than any claw. If he ran now—if he broke—they'd see it. They'd be disappointed.
That hurt worse than death ever could.
He forced his feet to stay planted. Forced his voice steady.
"How do our odds look?" he whispered to Bella.
She bared her teeth at the dragon. "Hard. But we can take it."
The woman leaped lightly onto the dragon's back, running a hand along its scales. "Thank you for the haste, Lila."
She looked down at them again, calm as ever.
"I will not fight." The words carried no bravado, only fact. "There is no need. I already know where the fang is. I will claim it when I am ready."
She settled properly astride the dragon. "My name is Tiamat. This is my daughter, Lila. We reside at the highest peak. You are welcome as my guests."
With that, the dragon's wings snapped open. They lifted away, black silhouette shrinking against the sky until it was only a distant speck.
Silence fell.
Ragnar turned to the others. Bella looked shaken—more than he'd ever seen.
"I've met that dragon," she said quietly. "In the Demon's Rift. A place where monsters slaughter each other to evolve.
She slept there so long I thought she was part of the mountain. Then one day she woke... and the whole rift shook when she left."
Ragnar exhaled slowly. "Tiamat. Lila. Highest peak."
Bella's eyes widened. "She means the Rift. That's what evolved monsters call it—the place of endless ascension."
Ragnar stared at the empty sky, the fang heavy in his inventory.
They weren't safe. Not even close.
But running wasn't an option anymore. Not when the people who believed in him were still standing right here, waiting for his next move.