Chapter 347: Giving Rise

There were probably many ways to tell that one was about to meet their maker.

And frankly, Riley was just praying that the lights that kept on flashing through the haze of his mind weren’t the same lights used by the heavens to fetch people.

Because if so, and there was a disclaimer he hadn’t known about, particularly when it came to quantity over quality, then he was likely in for an express pass to the afterlife.

Since whatever was happening to him wasn’t just a show of light but a whole production.

Then again, all that would have been Riley had he been aware of what was really happening to him, because in truth, the black dragonling was simply curled tightly as information, hopes, dreams, and fears came flooding him.

Within the cocoon echoed laughter, tears of joy, and praises—moments preserved through ages, waiting for the fateful day when memories of clear skies, fresh air, and flapping wings would come alive once more.

And sure enough, the visions began.

Black dragons soared across endless skies, their scales drinking in the light like polished obsidian. Vast wings cut through the clouds as they hunted in unison, flames bursting from their throats in fierce arcs of gold and blue.

The fire wasn’t wild. It was controlled. Beautiful. A declaration of power that rippled across mountains and seas.

A smaller dragonling stumbled on unsteady claws, smoke puffing from its nostrils as it attempted its first breath of fire. The flame sputtered out in a tiny burst, barely more than a spark. Deep, rumbling laughter followed. Two enormous shadows lowered their heads, nuzzling the little one, cooing in low, resonant tones that vibrated like distant thunder.

Encouragement.

Pride.

Then, as if showing an example, adult black dragons rose into the sky, their flames burned blue, brilliant and intense, streaking upward like pillars that pierced the heavens. It had no target, just a harmonious display for a little one.

The scene shifted, light and haze engulfing the treasured scene as a new one came to pass.

A rhythmic procession.

They moved in solemn lines along a cliff edge carved with ancient symbols. Massive claws traced glowing runes across their own scales. Lines of light spread over their bodies in intricate patterns, each mark pulsing with contained strength.

More dragons gathered, standing shoulder to shoulder with others of different hues. Gold. Silver. Bronze. A forest of wings folding and unfolding in camaraderie. Their auras flared but didn’t clash. They stood as equals beneath a sky that seemed too small to hold them all.

Then, the air grew thick with a different kind of intensity.

In their full, terrifyingly beautiful forms, a pair of black dragons circled one another in a slow, hypnotic dance. They came together not with softness, but with a primal ferocity. There was a flash of teeth, a sharp, deliberate bite at the curve where neck met the body. Another answering bite. Blood shimmered briefly against dark scales before vanishing into heat and flame.

No words were needed. The sky itself bore witness while they roared to the heavens.

The haze engulfing the dragonling felt warm as more and more scenes wrapped around him.

A cavern bathed in soft light. The two dragons, now quieter, gentler, lowered their massive forms around a single egg resting upon a bed of shimmering minerals. The shell was dark, beautifully so, and every now and then it would feel like a pulsing heartbeat.

Excited murmurs echoed. Laughter again, softer this time. Claws carefully adjusted the nest. One great head pressed close, breath warm and protective.

The egg trembled.

Just once.

Both dragons froze before erupting into delighted, rumbling joy that shook dust from the estate’s ceiling. They leaned close, brushing their snouts against the shell as if it were the most precious treasure in existence.

The visions lingered on that image. A happy pair. A promise of a future.

But then—

It shattered.

A cry tore through the memory. Raw. Agonized.

The large expanse of a room was darker now. Smoke clung to the air. Two figures, no longer in their full draconic forms, knelt around the same egg. Their shapes were blurred, indistinct, as if the memory itself refused to show their faces clearly.

Their hands clutched the shell.

They wept.

The egg glowed faintly, flickering like a candle in a storm.

The anguished sound pierced through the flood of inherited warmth and pride so violently that the dragonling within the cocoon jerked.

He turned in distress.

And as he did, something shifted.

Claws stretched. Bigger. Longer.

His body followed suit instinctively. Muscles pulled. Bones creaked softly. The space around him suddenly felt tighter without his knowledge.

Scales slid over one another with a faint rasping sound, dark surface deepening in hue as if polished by unseen hands. The black grew richer, heavier, swallowing what little light filtered through the cocoon.

His encasement trembled slightly with each uneven breath.

Still, the memories came. It was as merciful as it could probably be, but how hard that was for instincts, strategy, history, and most of all, loss.

The dragonling, no longer quite so little, expanded with a breath that wasn’t just air but legacy.

It would take a while. And outside, Riley would have ended up screaming.

But inside, the last heir of the black dragons was rising.

__

If only the same thing could be said about the golden dragons, who were honestly wilting.

The children had followed Riley’s words and bought time. In fact, they bought so much time that they’d ended up tiring themselves out while giving their very best. They had smiled, bowed, flapped, sparkled, and endured the endless encore requests with admirable determination.

Even the dolphins had gotten into it, leaping higher and splashing harder as though they too understood that every trick was another precious second gained. The crowd had loved it, and the show had stretched far longer than it was ever meant to.

And yet, after all that effort, they were still left with a big fat nothing.

No Riley.

No sign.

No golden dragon.

Now they were back in their rooms, the doors firmly shut just as the adults had insisted. They had been told to rest. Told that they had done enough for today. Told that if they stayed put and behaved properly, the two would eventually return.

So they were behaving.

Or at least trying to.

Orien sat cross-legged on the floor, his foot flicking restlessly against the carpet in boredom. Liam stood by the window for a while before finally giving up and sitting down as well, though not before parting the curtains just enough to glance toward the distant dolphin pavilion.

It was far away. Closed now. The lights had dimmed, so there was really nothing to see.

“Do you think…” Liam began softly, his voice careful in the quiet room, “Do you think my big brother is stuck?”

Orien frowned immediately. “Stuck where?”

“In the crypt. Or maybe he forgot the way out.”

Orien’s head snapped up at that. “Well, possible. But my Uncle doesn’t forget things. And they’re together, right?”

Liam quickly lowered his gaze. “Right. Sorry.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy and uncomfortable.

It had been so long.

From what Orien could remember, they clearly said that if the two of them stayed put and rested properly, his Aunt and Uncle would come back.

But for children who had tried their best and didn’t even transform, they couldn’t help but feel cheated.

Orien puffed his cheeks, his frustration bubbling over. “They’re lying.”

Liam’s eyes widened at once. “You can’t say that.”

“But they are,” Orien insisted in a hushed whisper. “They said soon. This isn’t soon.”

Liam hesitated before replying, “Maybe soon is different for grown-ups.”

Orien looked personally offended by that suggestion. “Soon is soon.”

There was a pause before Liam admitted quietly, “I’m also worried about brother-in-law.”

Orien rolled his eyes, though the motion lacked its usual drama. “Why? It’s Uncle.”

“That’s why,” Liam said honestly.

Orien crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “There’s no need to worry about Uncle. If something bad happens, everybody else would probably be gone before Uncle even faces that sort of problem.”

Liam thought about it for a moment and then nodded slowly. “That’s true.”

They both turned their attention back toward the direction of the pavilion, even though they knew it was pointless. The distance between them and whatever was happening felt larger than ever.

“But it’s still been really long,” Liam murmured.

“I know.”

The children were definitely unhappy about the situation. But unbeknownst to them, the adults simply had no better answer, because frankly, Lord Karion and Lady Cirila, who clearly had a child of their own, had never heard of something this odd.

Inheritance ceremonies took time. Sure.

A clan’s shared knowledge could be vast.

Ideally, there was nothing to worry about when ceremonies took a bit longer than most.

But truthfully, neither of them had ever heard of an inheritance ceremony taking this long.

Wasn’t it just a matter of passing on the clan’s shared knowledge? A transfer. A merging. A settling of memories into the next generation.

So why had it not ended yet?

They were quite literally about to cross into another day!

Had something happened before they even reached the inheritance chamber? Or was receiving an inheritance without the help of living parents exponentially harder?

Who knows? But in another room, Orien’s lower lip trembled for the briefest second before he forced it still. “If they don’t come back soon, I’m filing a complaint.”

“With who?” Liam asked.

Orien opened his mouth confidently.

Then paused.

“I’ll figure it out,” he declared at last.

Liam shifted closer and sat beside him on the floor. “Maybe they’re just learning a lot.”

Orien sniffed, though the sound lacked conviction. “They can learn faster.”

Liam nodded anyway, because it felt better to agree than to argue.

The room felt too quiet after that. Even the distant sounds of the resort had faded. When the last visible light from the dolphin pavilion finally went dark, neither of them commented on it.

—

If the children were worried, no one could possibly worry more than the dragon lord.

Not far from that sealed door, he found himself on the ground, breathing far harder than he would ever allow anyone else to see.

His palm pressed flat against ancient stone, claws biting into rock as though he could force his way through by sheer will alone. The air around him trembled faintly with the force of his restraint, and every exhale came slower than the one before it as he fought to maintain control.

Because behind that door, something was seriously happening to his mate.

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