After a long discussion with the Dragon Queen, Zavrok and Aelina were finally guided to their chambers by Astrid herself. The walk through the palace was anything but quiet. Dozens of powerful auras swept over them, each probing, each weighing their presence. It was almost unheard of for someone from the Thalorien Dukedom to step foot in the Dragon Empire—let alone its Duke and Duchess. Usually, only merchants or envoys made such journeys. But today, whispers and speculation rippled through the corridors: Why was the Lord of Thalorien here? What could possibly warrant such a miracle of diplomacy?
Astrid led them to a guest chamber, its heavy oak door carved with runes that glowed faintly as she pushed it open. The room was vast, with tapestries depicting ancient dragon battles draped across the walls and a fire crackling in a hearth shaped like a dragon's maw. "Rest here," Astrid said, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of formality. she excused herself, her silver robes trailing like liquid moonlight as she departed.
Zavrok shut the door with a thud, a faint shimmer rippled across the room, sealing their words from prying ears. He turned to Aelira, his broad shoulders tense, his dark eyes narrowed."Do you trust her?" he asked, his tone sharp. "I know it would've been different if Elva were here—but the Queen? She feels suspicious to me, like she's plotting something. You said she sent Elva away. Doesn't that sound intentional? What if she knew we were coming and arranged it?"
Zavrok's concerns echoed heavily in the air.
Aelina sat down slowly, her eyes thoughtful. "Whatever Astrid is plotting, I don't think it has anything to do with our son," she said calmly. "When you told her he was missing, I saw her reaction—genuine fury, Zavrok. She cares about him, maybe because of Elva's bond with us. You know Elva's always said her mother's been trying to mend the rift between our families. She doesn't want the old wars to poison another generation.""
She hesitated for a moment, then added softly, "I overheard some of the palace maids whispering. They spoke of a marriage alliance—between the Thalorien line and the Dragon bloodline. Perhaps that's her true plan. Maybe she wishes to wed one of her children to ours. If she genuinely helps us find our son… I might even consider it."
Zavrok froze, staring at his wife in disbelief. "You can't be serious. There's no way in the Abyss I'd allow my child to marry one of those lizards!" His voice rose, his deep-seated hatred surfacing.
Every descendant of Kaedon had grown up hearing the blood-soaked history of dragon atrocities against their kin. Zavrok, more than anyone, had been steeped in those secrets—tales not even recorded in public archives. Groomed from childhood to inherit the Dukedom, he knew truths that fueled his disgust. His voice shook with conviction. "I will never allow my bloodline to be tainted."
Aelina sighed, recognizing the immovable weight of her husband's stubbornness. "Darling… this isn't about you. It's about our children. If they truly loved someone, would you chain them away from it? You've never restricted them before. Why start now?" Her voice softened, yet remained firm. "Besides, all of this is only rumor. Astrid hasn't proposed anything yet. Let's not waste our strength fighting shadows. For now, let's focus on finding our son. I'll call Elva and ask her to return immediately."
Zavrok stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping slightly. He met her gaze, his anger fading into a weary nod. Without another word, he pulled a small device which looked like a phone from his cloak and began murmuring into it, contacting their household back in Thalorien for any news of their son. Aelira watched him, her heart heavy, then turned to the window, staring out at the alien city and praying for answers
---
Two days later, a sharp knock jolted Aelira from her thoughts. She crossed the room, her boots muffled against the thick rug, and opened the door. Standing there was a vision of beauty—tall and poised, with sculpted curves and an air of regal authority. Her flowing hair shimmered like molten gold, and her sharp amber eyes carried the weight of both power and elegance. She was Elva Draken, second-born of the Emperor and Empress, and widely whispered to be the next successor of the Dragon Throne.
Aelira's face lit up, and she pulled Elva into a fierce hug. "Elva!" she breathed, her voice thick with relief. Elva laughed softly, returning the embrace, and for a moment, the weight of their worries lifted. Zavrok stood back, arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched his wife and their old friend reunite. He'd known Elva since their academy days, when they'd sparred and studied together, forging a bond that softened his usual disdain for dragons.
After a long moment, they parted, and Elva's gaze flicked between them. "Aelira, you holding up okay?" she asked, her voice warm but tinged with concern. She turned to Zavrok, her expression softening. "And you, Zavrok. It's been too long. Last time we met was Zhavrik's first birthday, wasn't it? I hate that we're reuniting like this." Her tone was genuine, her eyes searching his for a sign of how he was coping.
Zavrok shrugged, his voice gruff but lacking its usual edge. "Been better, Elva. You know how it is. We're losing our minds worrying about him. Can we skip the pleasantries and get moving? Time's not on our side."
Aelira nodded, her expression resolute. "He's right. We need to start the search now."
As they spoke, the door swung open again, and Queen Astrid swept in, her presence commanding the room. Her silver eyes assessed them all, lingering on Elva with a flicker of maternal pride. "I've arranged for us to begin the search immediately," she said, her voice crisp. "We'll split into two teams to cover more ground. Zavrok, you'll go with Elva to the east. Aelira, you're with me to the west. We'll move clockwise, sweeping from the outer regions to the center of the empire. Meet at the heart of the city in a week."
Zavrok exchanged a glance with Aelira, who gave a subtle nod. The plan was sound, but the weight of Astrid's authority—and her possible motives—hung over them like a storm cloud. Still, there was no time to dwell on it. No time was wasted. With grim determination, the teams split, each heading into the vast and perilous lands, their only thought echoing the same name—
Zhavrik