A crack of thunder split the night.

  Rain slammed against the reinforced roof of Fort Carven Colony Site 7-B, where floodlights flickered like dying fireflies. A security drone buzzed once—then dropped, sizzling, as another deafening boom sheared the thick metal door clean off its hinges. It skidded across the floor, scraping sparks in its wake.

  “Holy—that was awesome!”

  “Enough! Quickly! Break the second door down before the boss—”

  “Boss? Before the boss does what, exactly?”

  The cold voice cut through the static-soaked hallway. The man gulped.

  “My my… would you look at that? The second door hasn’t come down yet!” the voice continued, now cheerful—almost sing-song.

  “Yes sir! Right awa—”

  A slash opened the air—and opened the man. Blood spilled with no signs of stopping.

  “What the hell?! He was just about to—”

  The second man never finished. His head hit the floor and rolled down the corridor.

  “Such slothfulness,” the voice said. A figure stepped into the dim light, grinning. “It irks me that I had to enlist help from such… incompetence.”

  He raised his wand—an unsettling thing: wood wrapped in swirling rainbow vinyl, tipped with a pointing hand like a carnival joke.

  He fired.

  A bolt of green and yellow magic cracked the air, punched through the second steel door, and blew it apart. Alarms wailed across the compound, bouncing off concrete and echoing between Enforcer barracks now half-lit by red warning glyphs.

  “Sir!” a woman called, rushing through the debris. She bowed her head as she entered the blast zone.

  “The Enforcers will be upon us,” she said. “We weren’t able to subdue the ones at Location Four, but they are… busy, shall I say.”

  “Wonderful,” he replied with a whimsical turn. “Hold your wand high, dear. I don’t trust that a trap hasn’t been laid bare before us.”

  He stopped to face her. Tilted his head.

  “Your makeup… it’s well done, Elena…”

  “Yes, sir… I took your advice. A larger smile does suit me.”

  “Excellent! Never forget the smile,” he said, before breaking into maniacal laughter—loud, echoing, theatrical. He began to skip toward the final chamber, arms stretched wide like a circus tightrope act.

  The moonlight vanished as he passed the threshold, swallowed by shadow. Only the whites of his eyes shimmered, slicing through the dark.

  “The egg, Miss Elena. Please… carry it. Bring it. Savor it. Clutch the last of our imprisonment within your arms. And at once, finally!—we will grasp the truth. The freedom we deserve!”

  “Yes, sir!” Elena sang. She ran up to the pedestal at the center of the next room, blasting it with a spell of condensed air. The glass capsule shattered—crack—and sparks burst from the severed conduits above.

  The egg dropped into her arms, enormous and heavy, nearly half her height. She spun, skipping like a child, and presented it to her master.

  “Yes! That’s it!” he cheered. “With this, we will finally—at last—be able to slay that mighty, infamous, stain of a human being that Staffire is!”

  “Yes! Absolutely! Whatever you say!” Elena shouted, voice cracking, face frozen in a too-wide smile that trembled at the edges. She lifted the egg up.

  “Here, sir. To freedom!”

  But he didn’t move.

  He stared. Smile intact, painted and cracked—but mouth slack. Eyes distant. His joy had dropped into a void.

  “Elena, dear… what is that?”

  “What? What is what, sir? It’s the egg! The egg!” she replied, holding it forward.

  “Elena, dear… tell me. What is this?” he asked, slowly raising his wand. That absurd, rainbow-wrapped monstrosity. The hand at its tip pointed—straight at her.

  “It’s—It’s a wand… sir…?”

  “You sound unsure.”

  “I am sure! It’s a wand! It’s—It’s your wand!”

  “You just did it again, love. You sound unsure.”

  “It’s your wand, sir.”

  “That’s correct. It’s my wand. Now…” he leaned forward slightly. “What do you have in your hands?”

  “It’s… an… egg?” she said, each word rising in pitch.

  “No, my dear. Look again.”

  She lowered her gaze. Her breath hitched.

  “It’s—It’s half… an egg.”

  “You sound unsure again…” His voice thinned into a hum.

  “No! It’s half an egg, sir.”

  “Very good. We’re certain of that now, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now… what’s so wrong with half an egg, dear Elena?”

  “…We were here for a full egg.”

  “Yes. Very good. We were indeed here for a full egg. The only one of its kind. Quite rare, quite precious. So tell me…”

  He pointed directly at the jagged crack running through it.

  "Why is that dragon egg—the only cursed dragon egg in existence—now broken?"

  Elena stood frozen. She placed the egg gently at her feet, trembling. Raised her wand with shaking hands.

  “Luminance Orbs!” she cried.

  Dozens of radiant lights exploded from her wand and scattered across the room. They hovered in the air, then ignited—revealing the shadows beyond.

  Her eyes widened.

  And so did his.

  His left hand—unnaturally large—clamped around his own throat. Fingers digging into skin, he scratched and clawed like something was crawling beneath the surface. Insects, maybe. Memories. Madness. His eyes flared open so wide, the air itself seemed to sting the rims, veins bulging and bleeding red.

  “Elena, dear,” he said, almost breathless. “The egg is broken. The top is missing. But what’s more unnerving—what’s so utterly wrong—is that there’s nothing inside the egg.”

  His breathing hitched.

  “Please, Elena. I beg of you…”

  His voice cracked.

  “WHY IS THERE NOTHING IN THE EGG?!”

  He was screaming now—shrill, raw, as if the question was tearing his lungs apart.

  “I-I don’t know, sir! Perhaps—AH!”

  Her voice cut off.

  “It is about time you stop being so unsure, dear.”

  A condensed ray of fire—thin as a wire, no more than a centimeter wide—punched clean through her heart. She gasped, but never fell. Her body locked upright in mid-motion, eyes wide, expression still twisted in a smile.

  Her heart had stopped before she could feel herself die.

  She didn’t know it, but she had finally, blissfully, experienced peace.

  The man stood alone now.

  Face twitching. Chest heaving. Eyes dancing between sorrow and rage.

  “Oh damn,” he whispered. Then louder. “Oh damn this world. This fate. This life—myself, yourself, to all above me, to all underneath me—damn it. DAMN IT. DAMN IT!!!”

  With one final scream, he whipped his wand in a violent arc.

  A spell detonated—a blaze that expanded outward, then contracted into a core of burning pink light. The walls cracked. The alarms died. The air folded in on itself.

  And when the fire vanished… nothing was left behind.

  He reappeared in the sky.

  A small blimp drifted silently above the smoking ruins of Fort 7-B, its polished hull untouched by the chaos beneath.

  “Sir. Have you retrieved the item?”

  A man in white robes spoke without turning. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back—calm, controlled, austerity incarnate. A far cry from the painted fools still tearing through the compound below.

  Pink smoke hissed from Britlex’s boots as he stepped onto the deck, his cloak trailing cinders. His expression was a mess of fury and fatigue.

  “The damn egg was fractured,” he snarled.

  “It… hatched?” the robed man asked, blinking.

  “There’s no other damn explanation, you stupid cursed moron!” Britlex snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. He kicked over a crate for good measure. “Cracked wide open. Hollow. EMPTY.”

  “Lord Britlex,” the man said, finally turning. His voice remained level. “A dragon is now loose within the confines of this planet. I assure you, we’ll locate it before your enemies do.”

  Britlex’s eye twitched.

  He took a slow step forward and shoved his open palm directly into the man’s chest—not a spell, just raw aggression. His fingers gripped the robe’s fabric like he might tear through it out of spite.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “That egg… that life… is literally the only thing keeping me sane, Chase.”

  His grin returned, twisted and trembling. “Don’t test what I become without it.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied without flinching. “I, Black Glove Enforcer Chase Helixus, will ensure nothing gets in our way.”

  Britlex lingered for a breath longer. Then let go.

  “Good…” he muttered, sheathing his wand. “And of course… never forget to smile.”

  He turned and stormed off toward the blimp’s rear, his boots echoing down the metal corridor.

  Chase waited until he was gone.

  Then calmly, methodically, he picked up a wet rag from the nearby console and began wiping the paint from his face—removing the cracked white mask, the exaggerated smile, the lie.

  The smile faded from his lips as he stared out the window.

  #

  The sky was filled with white orbs.

  Some small, some blinking, some still.

  They shimmered without end, stretching from one corner of the world to the other. Blues bled into purples, and the black canvas above them all carried a soft, inky glow — like someone had spilled a thousand bottles of color and left the mess behind for the stars to dance in.

  “…So nice,” she whispered to herself.

  Her voice was dry and delicate, like the wind might carry it away.

  She took another slow step forward. Then another.

  “At least… when the yellow isn’t in the sky anymore, the water stops coming out of my skin,” she mumbled thoughtfully. Her gaze dropped to her bare feet, pale and dusty, half-buried in warm sand.

  Then her arms.

  Then her hands — small, trembling things. Her fingers looked like they might snap if she squeezed them too tightly. Like she might snap if she fell just once.

  Her stomach growled. It sounded louder than it should’ve in the still air.

  “I think… I can fix that by putting something in my mouth,” she said slowly, thinking each word through. “But… I have a bad feeling that if I took those mini rocks and ate them… mmm… it’d probably just make it worse.”

  She knelt down.

  The sand was warm beneath her knees. She scooped a handful into her palm and watched as it slipped through her fingers, cascading like soft golden powder. It fascinated her. It made no sound, but it moved like water. Her cracked lips parted slightly. Her wide, glassy eyes followed every falling grain.

  A sudden breeze blew across her face, kicking up the sand and stinging her cheeks. She coughed and sneezed.

  “Yup. I can’t have that like that,” she muttered, standing slowly and rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

  As she rose, her eyes drifted back up.

  And she froze.

  “…Was that… always there?” she whispered.

  High above, just barely cutting through the veil of stars, floated something massive and glowing: a great white orb, smooth and still, casting a soft, silvery light across the sand.

  She pointed at it — her arm shaky, but certain.

  “It’s… big. And white…”

  It was the moon, of course.

  But the girl didn’t know that.

  She was infatuated, rooted to the spot.

  And even though part of her knew she should keep walking… she couldn’t.

  She just kept staring.

  Then, just like before, she started walking again.

  She didn’t know where she was going — only that she shouldn’t turn. Hours ago, maybe longer, she had figured something out: if you turn too many times, you’ll just walk in circles. So now she kept her path straight, tracing her own footprints forward whenever she could see them in the sand.

  Her long, brown hair had been tucked into her shirt earlier, a trick she invented after it kept whipping around in the morning wind. But now, with the night calm and the air still, she had let it spill freely again.

  Sometimes, she’d notice her heart.

  It would beat a little louder than normal. And each time, she would stop, place both hands gently over the right side of her chest, and just… feel it.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  It felt strange. Like it wasn’t hers.

  The desert around her was completely still. No chirping. No humming. No voices. The only sound was her soft footsteps, crunching faintly against the quietest night she’d ever known.

  Her stomach growled again. She winced and pressed a small hand to her belly, just above her navel.

  “…It’s hurting,” she whispered. Her voice strained.

  Her face twisted into something unfamiliar — she didn’t know the word for it, but it made her reach up and touch her eyebrows, confused.

  “There’s… hair on my face…” she murmured in wonder. As if even that didn’t belong to her.

  Then—

  RRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMM

  A sudden roar of an engine shattered the silence.

  The girl screamed. She stumbled back and landed hard on her rear, kicking up sand as her hands dug into the ground. Her breath caught. Her eyes snapped open.

  A harsh light blinked from a vehicle that skidded to a stop, its bumper just short of hitting her.

  Three men jumped out.

  “What’s up, little lady?” the first one slurred. He was wide-shouldered, slouching, with uneven stubble and a heavy stick—some kind of wand—dangling from his belt. He pulled it out lazily and pointed it at her.

  “Aww, look at her,” said the taller one, grinning. His teeth glinted under the blimp light overhead. “Filthy. And ripe.”

  The third man was quieter, smaller, and didn’t move as fast. He slid out from the back seat, looked at her, and froze.

  “…That’s… that’s a kid,” he said.

  “What? What kid? That thing?” the plump man scoffed, brandishing his wand. “No! That’s a midget. A dwarf, even. Here, look. Watch.”

  He turned toward the girl and grinned.

  “Lady. What’s your age?”

  “…Age?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly, her eyes round and curious.

  “Yeah. How old are you?” the taller man asked, leaning in, licking his lips.

  “…How… old?” she repeated, tilting her head the other way.

  “She—she doesn’t even know what you’re asking!” the younger man said, voice rising. “That’s a kid! We’re thrifting kids now?!”

  But the girl wasn’t listening anymore. Her eyes had shifted to something else.

  “…What’s that big red thing that glows?” she asked, pointing at the car’s taillights. “It’s… pretty…”

  The plump man and the tall one exchanged a look. Then they both turned back to her, their grins growing wider.

  “That? That’s how we haul some ass,” the plump one said, chuckling. “Do me a favor, darlin’. Stand up for us.”

  She nodded, calm as ever, and rose to her feet. She brushed sand off her tattered shirt and loose pants.

  “Now spin around for us,” the man said, barely containing his anticipation.

  She spun gently, her arms swinging slightly with the motion, then stopped and looked at them with a faint smile.

  “Where’s your wand?” the tall one asked.

  “My wand? What’s a wand?” she asked, puzzled, her hands clasped together.

  “She doesn’t even know what a wand is,” the younger man muttered. “She’s gotta be younger than eleven…”

  The plump one wheeled on him and jabbed a thick finger into his chest, nearly knocking him back.

  “Listen, kid. You signed up for this. Wand or not, she’s valuable. There’s people out there who’ll buy her. Use her. No questions asked. Hell, sell her to the right guy? You’ll get your cut of millions.”

  The taller one stepped in, eyes glinting with something far worse.

  “Long brown hair. Deep brown eyes. Pale as moonlight. Not even old enough to hold a wand, let alone use one. Stupid as bricks. Yeah… I’d pay millions for a night with her.”

  The youngest man recoiled. “What the fuck? That’s disgusting! You sick—”

  “Shut up, kid,” the plump one growled. “Before I tell the boss you ain’t complying.”

  He raised his wand.

  “Now knock her out. Use that fancy spell of yours. Clean and easy. Then we load her in the back and pretend this was just another boring night.”

  “You guys make me sick!” the young man shouted, voice trembling. “She’s a child! How could you—”

  “Shut up, runt!”

  The plump man stepped forward, tilting his dirty trucker hat higher as he aimed his wand—squarely at the young man’s crotch.

  “Do it. Before I do you in.”

  The young man’s breath hitched.

  He could’ve stomached anything. Smuggling. Stealing. Even hurting people if they deserved it. But not this.

  Anything but this.

  He stepped forward, slowly, carefully, until he was face-to-face with the girl. He crouched a little to meet her gaze.

  “Hey…” he said softly.

  She didn’t flinch. Didn’t run. Just blinked at him with those impossibly wide eyes, her face tilted in passive curiosity. She didn’t even understand what was happening. She simply was.

  “Uhm… what’s… your name?” he asked.

  “My… name…?” she echoed, tilting her head.

  His heart cracked.

  “Y-yeah. Your name. Like… what people call you. People call me Rick. It’s… it’s my name. Don’t you have one?”

  There was a pause.

  Then—

  “Uhm… okay. My name is Rin.”

  He exhaled sharply. Didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath. The fact that she had a name somehow made this all so much worse.

  “R-Rin,” he said, voice tight. “That’s a… a pretty name.”

  “Pretty?” she asked. “Like the sky? And the big yellow and big white?”

  “…Big yellow and—are you talking about the sun and moon?”

  “Sun… and moon…?”

  “Y-yeah…” Rick nodded, eyes flicking upward. He pointed. “That big white thing up there? That’s the moon. You like that?”

  Rin followed his finger. Her eyes widened even more.

  “Moon…” she whispered, as if it was a sacred word. Then she lit up.

  “Moon! Got it, Rick! Thank you!!!” she beamed. “Wait! What about big yellow?!”

  Rick laughed—actually laughed—and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “That’s called the sun, Rin…”

  “Sun!” she repeated, now staring at him like he’d just taught her the meaning of the universe.

  He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop smiling back.

  Then she gasped again.

  “Oh! Rick! You have one of those stick things too!” she said, pointing to his hip.

  He looked down at his sheathed wand.

  “R-right… It’s a wand. It’s how we use magic. You don’t know that?”

  “Magic? What’s that?”

  Rick’s heart hit the floor.

  He swallowed.

  Oh for fuck’s sake… I can’t do this…

  “WHAT’S THE DAMN HOLD UP!” the plump man roared from behind the car, wand raised, fury blazing across his sweaty face.

  “Bring that morsel in! Shoot her already, damn it!”

  The car door slammed open.

  He stepped forward, wand aimed directly at Rick.

  “HURRY UP!”

  “Listen, Jerry!” Rick barked. “We take her, and I’m dropping her straight into the hands of Public Security. There’s no way I’m—”

  He clenched his fists. “There’s just no way, alright?!”

  “Oh, for fu—” Jerry groaned, wand still aimed lazily. “Kid, I like you. I really do. But you’re a pain in my ass.”

  He stepped forward, eyes hard.

  “She’s one soul. One. And we’re just death’s chauffeurs, kid. That’s the job. So leave her, so we can keep doing our jobs. You understand?!”

  “No. Absolutely not,” Rick said, teeth gritted.

  He drew his wand and raised it — pointed square at Jerry’s chest.

  “I’m telling the boss about this.”

  Jerry scoffed. “Aww, look who wants to be a hero now!”

  The taller man leapt out of the driver’s seat, wand drawn and glowing with violet energy. He aimed it right at Rick.

  Rick stepped back quickly, raising one arm out protectively.

  “Rin! Get back!”

  “What? What’s going on?” she asked softly. Her feet moved backward as if on their own. “Is this… bad? Is this not pretty?”

  Rick felt something inside him twist again.

  That voice… that innocence…

  “J-just stop talking,” he whispered.

  Rin frowned. Her expression was awkward — unfamiliar. She reached up, touched her eyebrows again.

  “The hair… on my face… I don’t like it when it makes it this shape.”

  “Yeah? Me neither, kid,” Rick muttered. “Now let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  Without warning, he fired a blast of wind into the ground — sand exploded upward, forming a wall of swirling dust between them and the attackers.

  He pivoted, grabbed Rin, and bolted.

  Wandfire sparked through the haze behind them.

  “SHIT!” he shouted, as a blast of fire shattered the small barrier he threw up. He spun and returned fire — a bolt of lightning streaked from his wand, only to bounce harmlessly off a glowing shield.

  “To hell with it all!” the tall man howled. “Soon as I get that pretty girl, I’m gonna devour her!”

  He unleashed a barrage of purple curses, rapid-fire like a living turret.

  Rick threw up another barrier, but it only absorbed three hits before cracking and exploding in light. He ducked and sprinted toward the nearest hill, dragging Rin close.

  They crested the edge, and he shoved her down behind it, throwing himself over her as more spells detonated behind them.

  “Rin! Keep your head down! Stay still!” he barked. “If any of those spells hit you, you’ll get hurt — or worse, die!”

  He peeked up, fired another spell — a piercing arc of ice — but it slammed uselessly into another barrier.

  Shit! They’re faster than me! I can’t break through — not two at once! No sorcer can win a two-on-one!

  God damn it… what do I do…?

  Beside him, Rin whimpered. She was shaking violently, clutching her head and curling up tight.

  “R-Rick…” she stuttered, “I—I can’t stop shaking. I don’t feel good. I want—I want to cough!”

  He grabbed her arm. “Shh! It’s gonna be okay! I’m here, I’m—”

  BOOM!

  A massive explosion crashed just feet from their cover, sending a shockwave through the sand.

  Rick’s mind was spinning.

  He couldn’t collect a single thought.

  Spells screamed overhead as he curled over Rin, clutching her close. He’d stopped firing back. Nothing was working. His sleep spell needed setup. The enemy barriers were too fast—too clean.

  God. What do I do? What can I do? Someone… anyone…

  “CAN ANYONE HELP US?!” he finally cried out, the words ripping from his throat like an open wound.

  And then—

  CRACK—KRAAAK!!

  A green bolt of lightning struck the ground just beyond his cover, the flash blinding.

  Rick flinched. He looked up, dazed—eyes wide.

  A man stood there behind his blurry vision.

  Dressed in black.

  Gloved hands in black.

  A strange white wand clutched in his right, glistening despite the dark of the night. His hair was snowy white, short—except for one long lock that curved down the side of his face, resting just past his left ear.

  He turned his head slightly.

  His gaze met Rick’s.

  “Are you kids alright?” he asked.

  His voice was calm. Controlled. Sharp as a brand-new forged katana.

  “A… alright…?” Rick echoed.

  Was this real? Was this just a hallucination, a desperate trick of the mind?

  But then he saw it.

  Spells were crashing against a barrier in front of the man.

  A big one. A complex one. Spells burst and fizzled on contact—powerful attacks that barely left a scratch.

  The man wasn’t worried. He didn’t even flinch.

  He stood relaxed, one hand casually resting at his hip, the other holding that elegant, white-glowing wand.

  “How… how could a barrier be so convoluted…?” Rick muttered, breath caught in his throat.

  The man tilted his head slightly. Smiled just enough.

  “It’s simple,” he said. “I wanted a convoluted barrier. So I conjured one.”

  Rick blinked. He shouldn’t have been able to hear that.

  The man turned back to face the attackers.

  Rick forced himself to stand. “W-Who… who are you?!”

  “Me?” he said. “I’m Vix Nepton.”

  Rick’s blood ran cold.

  That name. That name.

  His nerves locked up like ice in his veins.

  This wasn’t just some powerful Enforcer.

  This was the Vix Nepton. The only man in the world who had ever kept pace with Yaxon Staffire—the strongest sorcerer to have ever lived.

  The Commander of the New Grand Military.

  A White Glove Enforcer was here.

  Ready to save them.