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Chapter 2
The meeting chamber was carved deep within the mountain, a hollowed titan's ribcage of stone and ancient magic, built long before humans learned the value of tools. Its walls bowed outward in vast arcs, carved by dragon claws over centuries, the ceiling high enough that fully grown dragons could raise their wings without scraping the edges. Even so, the sheer size of those gathered made the chamber feel small.
All the dragons were gathered including Anna and Zeref.
The dragons' low growls reverberated through the chamber as Veldanava finished shaping a floating projection of the Eclipse Gate between them—a glowing circular frame of faint runes and star-threaded lines. Its light cast long shadows across the dragons' scales, undulating with each shifting breath.
"We must complete the Gate soon," Veldanava said, his deep, resonant voice carrying easily across the stone. "Acnologia grows bolder, and every battle he engages in accelerates his evolution."
Igneel snorted, a blast of flame curling along the ground before dissipating. "We've known the danger. What new urgency pushes you to summon us like this?"
Veldanava's gaze swept across them, and for a moment, the starlight in his eyes dimmed. "Time," he answered. "Time is no longer my ally."
The dragons shifted, scales grinding against stone in uneasy friction. Grandeeney was the first to speak, her voice echoing with quiet worry. "You have felt weaker recently."
"It is more than fatigue," Veldanava admitted. "Creating Varion cost me greatly. I accepted the price, but I did not foresee how quickly the effects would take root."
A deep growl of distress rolled through Weisslogia's throat, while Skiadrum's wings twitched in agitation. Metalicana lowered his massive head, eyes narrowing in reluctant understanding. "So you are fading," he muttered. "And not slowly."
Anna's eyes widened, her voice a soft gasp. "Veldanava… why didn't you tell us sooner?"
Zeref looked up at the Star Dragon God with a slow, haunted clarity. "Because he wanted to preserve what little peace the children still have."
Veldanava inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Their peace matters. But the world is changing too quickly. Acnologia's power grows, the dragons' numbers shrink, and the Eclipse Gate may be the only salvation left."
Igneel's heat surged, anger simmering beneath his scales. "Is that why you called us here? To tell us what we already know? Or is there more?"
"There is," Veldanava said, his voice low. "Varion."
Each dragon stilled immediately. Even Anna's breath caught as she looked up at him.
"He is not like the others," Grandeeney said softly. "We have always known this."
"Yes," Veldanava agreed. "But what none of you understand is how deeply he is tied to me. Varion carries my essence. He is Dragonoid—not a Slayer, not a human who might succumb to destruction. He is stable. Balanced. But he is… vulnerable in ways none of you can see."
"We protect him," Igneel rumbled. "You know that."
"You protect the children," Veldanava corrected gently. "But if I fall—Varion will lose more than a guardian. He will lose the foundation of what he is."
Anna stepped forward slightly, concern etched across her face. "You want to tell him everything."
"Yes." Veldanava's wings folded tightly against his sides. "He deserves to know the dangers ahead. The truth about the Gate. The threat of Acnologia. My condition. And the possibility that the future may depend on choices he does not yet understand."
A ripple of disapproval moved through the chamber.
Grandeeney's massive head lowered, her voice tinged with sadness. "He is a child, Veldanava. Dragonoid or not, his heart is still young."
"He loves deeply," Weisslogia added. "More deeply than the others. That kind of emotion can shatter under too much weight."
Skiadrum's eyes glimmered in the shadows. "And the other children see him as their anchor. Their stability. If he falters, the group falters."
"They are family," Metalicana growled quietly. "And family needs time—not fear."
Anna took a breath, stepping closer to Veldanava though she was dwarfed by every dragon in the room. "I believe Varion will face the truth with courage when the time is right. But that time is not now. He deserves these last years of safety, of growing alongside the others, of being… a child."
Zeref, silent until now, finally spoke. His voice carried no heat, only resignation. "You fear you won't live long enough to tell him."
Veldanava didn't deny it. "I do not know how much time remains."
"Then let him grow more first," Anna said softly. "Let him reach an age where his heart can bear the truth. If we speak to him too soon, we risk breaking what we are trying to protect."
Igneel raised his head, flames settling into embers. "We will tell him when he is ready. Not before."
One by one, the dragons nodded.
Veldanava looked at each of them—his old companions, his trusted allies—and felt the heart-wrenching conflict inside him. He wanted to protect Varion. He wanted to prepare him. And he wanted more time—time that he knew was slipping away like sand between his claws.
"If time allows," he finally said, voice quieter than before, "I will wait."
Some time later
The announcement came without warning. One moment the children were finishing their afternoon play fights , their laughter ringing across the valley as Natsu and Sting tried to outdo one another with clumsy tricks, and the next, Igneel's roar echoed across the training grounds, summoning every child and dragon at once. Even Varion straightened at the sound; Igneel only roared like that when something serious was about to be said.
All the dragons gathered, their immense forms casting long shadows over all and Veldanava stood at the forefront, massive and radiant.
When the children approached, they instinctively clustered near Varion, their big brother. Wendy clasped his sleeve, Rogue stood at his shoulder, Natsu held himself unusually still, Sting watched with wide, uncertain eyes, and Gajeel hovered with a tense frown.
Igneel's voice broke the silence, booming and absolute. "For the next three months, you will not train together. Each dragon will take their child for intensive, individual instruction. You will be separated until this training is complete."
A stunned hush fell over the children.
"What?!" Natsu blurted. "But—why?!"
Sting echoed him immediately. "We always train together!"
Wendy's small hand tightened on Varion's sleeve, her blue eyes filling with worry. Rogue said nothing, but the way he leaned slightly closer to Varion betrayed his anxiety. Even Gajeel's expression cracked with unease.
Varion swallowed, steadying himself. He could feel the fear rising around him like mist.
Grandeeney lowered her head sympathetically. "It is necessary for your growth. Each of you has reached a point where your individual weaknesses must be addressed directly."
"But why all at once?" Wendy whispered.
Veldanava stepped forward, his star-bright eyes softening. "Because time is shifting, little ones. And you must be ready."
Varion felt a chill move through him. Something in Veldanava's tone held a finality he'd never heard before. When the dragons began separating the group—Igneel beckoning Natsu, Weisslogia guiding Sting and Rogue, Metalicana nudging Gajeel forward—Wendy clung to Varion for an extra heartbeat.
"Will you come back?" she whispered.
"Of course," Varion said gently, brushing her hair aside. "Three months will pass quickly. I promise."
She let go reluctantly, following Grandeeney. The children glanced back at him repeatedly until the dragons carried them out of sight. The valley fell quiet, leaving only Veldanava and Varion standing in the center of the clearing.
Veldanava lowered his massive head until his luminous eyes met Varion's. "Walk with me," he said.
They crossed to a secluded ridge overlooking the valley which had an overview of the nearby forest
"You already know this isn't normal," Veldanava said.
Varion nodded. "There's more to this than training, isn't there?"
A sorrowful hum vibrated deep in Veldanava's chest. "Yes. The others will use these months to strengthen their children… but our time will be different."
Varion's eyes widened slightly. "Different how?"
Veldanava shifted, his massive wings folding close, his starlit scales dimming with a quiet gravity. "I will teach you everything I can. Every art, every technique, every secret known only to the higher dragons. All that my power can still grant."
"That sounds like… preparation," Varion said slowly.
"It is," Veldanava admitted. "You must be ready for a future I may not be present to guide you through."
Varion felt the world tilt. "You're not… leaving?"
"Not yet," Veldanava answered gently. "But my power fades faster each month. What I give you now may be the last that my strength can provide."
A weight settled in Varion's chest. He forced his voice steady. "Then teach me. I'll learn everything."
The Star Dragon God lowered his head until their foreheads nearly touched. "I know you will. That is why I must give you everything I can while time remains."
For the next three months, Varion trained in isolation with Veldanava, far from the valley where the other children honed their crafts. The training was unlike anything he had ever experienced—intense, relentless, sacred. Veldanava pushed him through everything he could handle. At night, Veldanava spent time bonding and growing and spending all the time having fun together.
And though Varion learned quickly—faster than any mortal could—the truth lingered beneath every lesson.
Veldanava was fading.
Sometimes his wings flickered with weakness, sometimes his breaths came slow, and sometimes his gaze drifted toward the distant sky with a sorrow Varion didn't yet understand.
But he trained on, carrying each lesson like a burning star within his heart.
And when the three months drew near their end, Varion realized he was no longer training to become stronger.
He was training to survive a future without the god who raised him.
By the final days of their three-month training, the hidden canyon Veldanava had chosen was etched with deep scars of celestial energy and dragonfire. The ground was pitted with the imprints of titanic claws, the air thick with the lingering perfume of starlight that clung to every stone Varion touched. He had grown stronger than he ever imagined possible. His movements flowed effortlessly with the rhythm of the world, his Dragonoid scales gleaming like fragments of constellations. But with every day that Varion's strength rose, Veldanava's diminished.
The Star Dragon God's breaths had grown shallow. His wings, once glowing with cosmic radiance, now flickered with patches of dimming light. Even his voice carried the faint tremor of exhaustion he tried desperately to hide. Yet he trained Varion harder, longer, more intensely, as though trying to carve everything he knew into the boy's soul before time ran out.
On the final evening, they rested atop the ridge overlooking the canyon. Veldanava's immense form lay curled protectively beside Varion, his star-filled eyes half-lidded. "You are nearly ready," he murmured, though Varion could hear the strain beneath the words.
"Ready for what?" Varion asked quietly.
Veldanava did not answer.
Instead, the sky tore open.
A sound like a thousand storms erupted overhead, a roar so deafening the canyon trembled beneath their feet. The air warped, mana twisted violently, and a shadow eclipsed the sun—vast, jagged, hateful. Acnologia descended like a harbinger of destruction, his massive black form blotting out the horizon. The killing intent radiating from him was suffocating, primal, absolute.
Varion's heart seized.
Veldanava rose immediately, though his limbs shook from the effort. The ground split beneath him as he spread his failing wings. "Varion," he said sharply, "stay behind me."
Acnologia landed in an explosion of shattered stone, his claws carving trenches into the earth. His eyes—cold, merciless blue—locked onto Veldanava with a slow curl of contempt. "So it's true," he rumbled, voice dripping with venom. "Even gods can rot."
Varion stepped forward instinctively, fear and fury swirling through him. "Stay away from him!"
Acnologia didn't spare him a glance. To him, Varion was beneath notice—insignificant.
But Veldanava felt the boy's forward movement and quickly blocked him with a single, trembling wing. "Varion. Listen to me. You cannot fight him."
"I'm not letting him touch you," Varion said, trembling.
"It is already too late for that," Veldanava whispered.
Acnologia lunged.
The clash of their power shook the mountains. Starlight collided with annihilation, sparks scattering like dying galaxies. Veldanava fought with everything he had left, but the cracks showed instantly. His wings faltered. His breath attacks flickered. His claws slowed. Acnologia drove him back with mocking ease.
Varion launched forward despite orders, unleashing a blast of celestial flame that would have leveled a fortress.
Acnologia turned his head lazily and swatted the attack aside as if brushing away ash. "A insect," he scoffed. "Not worth my breath."
Varion didn't care. He tried again—another spell, another burst of energy—
Acnologia smashed him across the field with the flick of his tail.
Varion crashed into the rocks, pain exploding through his ribs and he threw up blood due to organ damage. The world tilted, blurred, then snapped back into focus. He tried to stand, fingers digging into the earth, but his legs shook violently.
Another roar ripped across the canyon as Veldanava staggered under Acnologia's onslaught, his scales shattered, blood staining the ground in molten streaks of starlight. The god who once shaped worlds now struggled just to remain upright.
Acnologia pinned him with a claw the size of a house. "Pathetic," he hissed. "I expected more."
Varion's scream tore from his throat. "NO!"
At that moment, Veldanava's gaze snapped toward him—gentle, aching, fiercely protective. And Varion saw the truth.
This was the end.
Before Varion could take another step, Veldanava summoned the last of his divine strength. Light erupted from his wings, enveloping Varion in a cocoon of shimmering brilliance—warm, protective, impossibly strong.
"Forgive me," Veldanava whispered.
"NO! DAD, DON'T—!" Varion slammed his fists against the barrier, clawing at the light, but it held firm.
With a wrenching movement that cracked the canyon floor, Veldanava hurled the cocoon skyward, flinging Varion across the horizon with a speed that tore the wind apart. The world blurred into streaks of gold and blue,
The cocoon rotated just enough that Varion had a clear view of the canyon below.
He watched Acnologia rear back.
He watched his father—the only father he had ever known—rise weakly to meet him.
He watched Acnologia's claws descend.
He watched those claws pierce through divine bone and flesh.
He watched Veldanava's wings tear.
He watched the light inside the Star Dragon God fade.
And Varion's scream shattered into raw agony.
"DAD!!! DAAAAAAD!!!"
The sound barrier broke around him. It ripped through the sky, echoing across the mountains as the cocoon of light carried him farther and farther away. He reached toward the fading figure in the distance, tears streaming violently across his face, his throat burning with the force of his cries.
"DAD—PLEASE—NO—NO—NO—!"
But the canyon vanished behind the blur of wind and magic.
And Veldanava's light—his father's light—went out.