The torches throughout the library erupted in gold fire, flaring to life as if answering a command they had waited ten millennia to obey.
Nova's eyes burned silver; her hair lifted and drifted around her head like she stood inside a pocket of suspended time.
The flames in the massive hearth froze, crystallized mid-flare—then peeled open, revealing an enormous archway hidden behind the fire.
What lay beyond stole the breath from every person in the library.
A vaulted chamber stretched deep, so wide it felt like stepping into the heart of a forgotten world.
Mountains of ancient gold.
Pillars of jewel-studded relics.
Dragon-forged weapons.
Moon-blessed artifacts.
Scrolls written in languages older than recorded history.
And at the far end, on a raised obsidian dais, rested a crown older than kingdoms—older than continents as they knew them. It flashed gold, sharply, the moment Nova entered, as if recognizing her.
Redmoon exhaled a single reverent breath. "I'll be damned…"
One of the elder librarians whispered, voice trembling, "Vault of the First Flame. Lost for thousands of years, and thought to be a myth."
No one spoke.
The entire library stood frozen, staring at Nova—at the girl who had just opened a door no mortal had unlocked since the age when dragons shaped the world.
Already inside like she owned the place, Nova walked straight in, lifting a dragon-forged quiver filled with golden arrows—the same lightweight, impossibly strong material as her bow and Fin's sword.
She moved to the far wall, to a marble shelf carved seamlessly into the stone. Nova didn't hesitate—she reached for a golden cylinder, its surface etched with the faint shimmer of ancient runes, as if it had been waiting for her hand alone.
Next, she lifted a golden goblet, its face adorned with a white wolf carved from pure crystal, glinting like moonlight trapped in glass.
Her eyes slid to a row of delicate bands beside it. Dozens of them—thin cuffs of white gold, each etched with the same repeating rune pattern. Nova sifted through them with purpose and selected three. Only three. As if she knew exactly which ones mattered.
She stepped out of the vault and approached Alpha Redmoon directly, her posture straight, chin lowered with deep respect. When she spoke, her voice flowed in Draken-Vorah, low and resonant.
Hyran translated, his tone almost ceremonial:
"The treasure is yours, my king, to steward as you please. Yet there is one relic within—gifted by the First Dragon King to the First King of Wolves in gratitude for the right to rule. It is an artifact forged of Ice and Fire, enchanted to awaken only by the hand of his incarnate or his queen, and consecrated long ago by the Moon Goddess herself."
Nova dipped her head again, then spoke a second time in the ancient tongue.
Hyran translated once more, voice gentling:
"By the right of the First Dragon King, I ask permission that his incarnate be allowed to his bonded. And with your leave, I must borrow several items from this vault to secure the survival of your heir this day."
Her tone was reverent—formal, but softened by sincerity.
Redmoon answered her in Draken-Vorah, startling every person in the room. Hyran did not translate, but the warmth in the king's voice made the meaning clear enough.
He had thanked her and granted her permission to take what she needed.
She moved next to Aeron, placing the golden goblet—etched with the white crystal wolf—into his hands with surprising gentleness for someone still glowing with residual power.
She spoke softly in Draken-Vorah and Hyran translated:
"Your soul-tether shall drink from this at the river of convergence. Only then may the curse be severed cleanly."
Aeron's breath caught, but he nodded, fingers tightening around the relic.
Nova turned to Jax, Fin, and Rex. She withdrew the three thin white-gold cuffs—each inscribed with ancient runes—and offered one to each of them.
She spoke again in the old tongue and Hyran translated:
"Place these upon your left wrist."
All three felt the urgency in her emotion and obeyed without hesitation.
The moment metal touched skin, the cuffs ignited with light—gold, sapphire, and ruby—and locked into place as if forging themselves into their wrists. Not painful… but immovable. Permanent, at least for now.
The three men exchanged glances, waiting for her explanation.
Nova gave none.
She only stepped back, eyes silvered with power and intent—clearly already three steps ahead of them—and moved on.
The cylinder she'd taken from the marble shelf—what at first glance seemed a single hollow tube—revealed itself, upon closer inspection, to be a stack of golden cuffs, thicker and more ornate than the slender ones she'd given Rex, Fin, and Jax.
Without ceremony, she distributed them—one to each person present—leaving the final cuff for herself.
She spoke again in Draken-Vorah, her voice calm and resonant with authority she did not seem aware she possessed.
Hyran translated:
"Place these upon your right wrist. Their purpose will be explained shortly."
Nova slipped her own cuff onto her right wrist.
One by one, the others mirrored her—Fin, Jax, Rex, Hyran, Aeron, Alpha Redmoon, and Beta Fang.
The moment metal touched flesh, the cuffs sealed—locking with a muted chime and glowing faintly. Not painful. Not removable. Not optional.
Nova then turned to Rex. She placed the golden arrow-holder into his hands, speaking softly in the old tongue.
Hyran translated: "No one dies today."
Rex closed his fingers around the quiver, a strange pressure building behind his ribs—like a memory trying to surface but unable to break through.
He answered her in Draken-Vorah and Hyran translated:
"These are relics once gifted to you by my hand, my Queen. Am I correct?"
Nova only smiled—small, knowing, almost sad—but offered no answer.