Several days had passed since Violet finally confided in them about the harrowing incident. The weight of her revelation still lingered—quiet, heavy, unspoken—settling over the group like a thin veil they pretended not to see. They had come to the garden seeking respite. Violet sat cross-legged on the grass, her head tilted slightly as she listened to Aeron animatedly recount one of their childhood escapades. Starfania chimed in with a quick remark, earning a genuine laughter from both siblings—lighter, freer than it had been in days. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world beyond the garden walls had faded into nothing.
At the edge of the clearing, Starfania leaned subtly against Atlas. His powerful frame was warm and steady, an anchor she hadn't realized she needed. His midnight-blue eyes swept over the group with calm vigilance, protective without being intrusive. Starfania's gaze lingered on Violet. The smile on Violet's face was faint, but real—and it stirred something deep inside Starfania's chest. Violet had endured so much, yet here she was, inching toward joy again. Starfania rested her palm against Atlas's scales, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing ground her. The scent of blooming flowers and fresh Avalon soil filled the air, mingling with the soft whisper of wind through the leaves. Then—" Starfania."
The voice cut through the calm like a blade. Her instincts flared instantly. She slipped the pen from her pocket, fingers tightening around it as her eyes swept the garden's shadows. Atlas stiffened beside her, his body angling protectively. Nothing. No one. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the clearing, rattling leaves and raising goosebumps along her arms. Unease clung to the air. Focusing, Starfania pressed her thumb against the jewel embedded in the pen. Light erupted. The pen flared brilliantly, its glow swallowing the space around her as it reshaped itself into a sword of radiant silver. Though the garden remained unchanged to everyone else, Starfania felt the world pull—hard.
Power surged through her grip. The garden vanished. She landed hard on the cold stone, skidding across the floor before coming to a stop. Dazed, she pushed herself upright, breath shallow.
" Hello?" She called, her voice echoing. The surrounding chamber was vast and dim, its walls swallowed by shadow. The silence that followed was oppressive—but strangely familiar, like a held breath. A faint shimmer glinted at the far end of the room. She stepped toward it. Then—" It seems someone wasn't paying attention. Again."
Starfania stumbled, nearly falling backwards before catching herself. Her eyes snapped up, locking onto the glowing silhouette before her. Cantina.
She stood there exactly as she had the first time—same attire, same posture, same unreadable smile. The sight of her sent a shock through Starfania's chest.
" You?" Starfania breathed. Cantina tilted her head, amused. " Are you planning to lie there all day, or are you going to get up?"
Starfania groaned as she rose. " A warning would've been nice."
" Don't hold your breath," Cantina replied lightly, already turning away. " I don't do warnings. You'll get used to it."
" Used to what?" Starfania called after her. Without slowing, Cantina answered, her tone cryptic. " My…unique way of doing things here."
The words lingered, sharp and unsettling.
" This is a whole new level of strange," Starfania muttered. Cantina chuckled softly. " Are you human, truly so naïve? If you want to survive, you'll need to adapt quickly."
Starfania frowned. " Adapt to what, exactly?"
" To the unexpected," Cantina replied, glancing back briefly. " This place doesn't follow scripts."
The surrounding air buzzed faintly with energy. Starfania took a steadying breath. " You were human once, too."
Cantina's smirk sharpened—but her fingers curled subtly at her side.
" Oh, I'm well aware," she said coolly. " But unlike you, I wasn't naïve."
" Maybe not," Starfania shot back, stepping closer. " But I still believe in doing what's right."
Cantina laughed—soft, brittle. " Belief doesn't save you. It makes you vulnerable."
" Is that what you learned?" Starfania pressed. " That strength comes from cynicism."
Cantina crossed her arms, gaze unflinching. " Strength comes from survival."
There it was. The truth—raw, unsoftened. Starfania exhaled sharply. " Then tell me why you summoned me."
For the first time, Cantina hesitated—just a fraction. Her eyes flickered briefly to the shadows of the chamber, where unseen forces stirred. She masked it instantly.
" Oh," she said lightly, clapping her hands together, " that. I almost forgot."
Starfania didn't miss the way Cantina subtly repositioned herself—standing between Starfania and the darkness. " I have your first mission, Dragon Savior."
Starfania blinked. " First…mission?"
" Yes." Cantina smiled, though something guarded lurked beneath it. " Have you heard of Lyam, leader of the Primara Nation?"
Starfania nodded slowly.
" I need you to go to Primara," Cantina continued. " Assist him with a situation he's currently facing."
She paused deliberately. " It will require leaving VulcanFire."
Starfania folded her arms, gaze dropping. " I haven't even ridden Atlas yet. More time is needed. I'm not ready."
Cantina stepped closer, resting a hand on Starfania's shoulder. Her voice softened—but her grip was firm.
" You don't gain readiness by waiting," she whispered. " You gain it by moving forward."
" What if I fail?" Starfania asked quietly. " What if I make things worse?"
Cantina met her eyes—really met them this time.
" Then you'll learn," she said. " And you'll survive. Lyam doesn't need perfection. He needs someone who believes."
She withdrew her hand, posture composed, voice steady.
" You are running out of time, Starfania," Cantina added calmly—too calmly. " Leaving VulcanFire isn't just about helping Primara."
She turned away before Starfania could ask more. " It's about staying alive."
And though her words remained measured, her clenched hands—hidden behind her back—betrayed the truth: Cantina already knew the Castle Keeper was moving. And she would not let Starfania die before her story even began. A heavy silence settled between them. Starfania exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging as the weight of everything pressed down at once.
" What if I let everyone down?" She asked quietly. " What about my father? VulcanFire is my home."
Cantina didn't answer right away. Instead, she nodded once, her expression thoughtful—measured.
" It's normal to doubt yourself," she said at last. " Especially when the stakes are this high. But you don't have to carry this burden alone. Lean on those who walk beside you."
She paused, allowing the words to sink in before continuing. " Every experience—good or bad—shapes you. Growth isn't forged through comfort. It's forged through choices."
Starfania's gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeve. Fear and uncertainty twisted tightly in her chest.
" But what if I fail?" She whispered. " The pressure feels…unbearable."
" Failure is not the end," Cantina said gently, her voice firm beneath its calm. " It's simply another step forward. And your father—wheather he realizes it or not—raised you to face the world, not hide from it."
That struck deeper than Starfania expected. A flicker of determination stirred in her chest, fragile but real.
" I just want to make him proud," she said. " I want to prove—to everyone—that I'm capable."
" Then start small," Cantina replied. " Believe in yourself first. Choose to move forward even when fear tells you not to. You'll be surprised by what you can endure."
Starfania looked up, searching Cantina's face. A small, uncertain smile broke through her frown. " You really think I can do this?"
" I don't think," Cantina said. " I know."
The certainty in her voice was contagious. Starfania straightened her shoulders, resolve hardening behind her eyes.
" I'll do it," she said firmly. " But on one condition."
Cantina lifted an eyebrow, intrigue flashing across her features. " Go on."
" I want my friends to come with me," Starfania said without hesitation. For a moment, Cantina simply studied her—then her lips curved into a mischievous smile.
" In all fairness," she said lightly, " I never said they couldn't."
Relief washed over Starfania, followed swiftly by the familiar pull of conflict.
One part of her longed to step beyond the walls of VulcanFire, to chase purpose and truth. Another clung desperately to the comfort of home, to the life she understood. The two desires warred within her, but deep down, she knew the choice had already been made. Cantina's voice cut cleanly through her thoughts.
" You will leave at midnight," she said. " Timing is critical."
Starfania nodded, listening intently.
" You know this kingdom better than anyone," Cantina continued. " Plan your escape carefully. And remember—no one can know who you are. You are not the daughter of Cesar. You are not from VulcanFire."
The words stung, but Starfania understood their necessity. Cantina regarded her quietly for a moment before asking, " Any more questions before you return?"
Starfania hesitated, glancing around the chamber. The walls seemed to pulse faintly, shifting as though alive, responding to thoughts she hadn't voiced aloud.
" Just one," she said, gesturing around them. " How do I leave?"
Cantina smiled—slow, knowing. " You wake up."
Starfania blinked. " Wake up?"
" Yes," Cantina replied, stepping closer. " This place is shaped by your mind. It isn't as solid as it feels. When you decide you're ready…you simply focus on waking."
Starfania swallowed, heart pounding. The chamber seemed to breathe with her, shadows stretching and receding.
" And when I wake up?" she asked quietly. Cantina's expression softened, though her eyes remained sharp. " Then your journey truly begins."
The surrounding light dimmed, the chamber dissolving at its edges as Starfania closed her eyes and drew in a steady breath—ready, at last, to move forward.