Morning arrived softly, as it always did in Arcalis, with sunlight drifting in like mist and settling gently over the palace gardens. From her balcony, Rhea watched the day unfold with practiced calm, though a quiet unease tugged at the back of her mind. She tried to ignore it. There were people to heal today, seedlings to tend, and children waiting for her magic. Today needed to be ordinary.
She stepped outside barefoot, feeling the earth warm gently beneath her soles. Dew glistened on the roses, catching sunbeams like tiny stars. The vines along the archway stirred at her approach—not rustling in the wind, but lifting, reaching out as though greeting an old friend.
"You're lively this morning," she murmured with a shy smile.
A petal drifted down from the willow tree and landed against her shoulder. Rhea brushed it off, but the soft flutter in her chest wouldn't go away. She knelt beside the pond, letting her fingers skim the water's cool surface.
The pond reacted instantly.
Ripples spiraled outward in perfect circles—then reversed direction, drawing back toward her fingertip as though the water itself wanted to touch her.
Rhea froze. Water never behaved like that. She pulled her hand back sharply, and the pond stilled as if nothing had happened. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
"You're imagining things," she whispered, even though she knew she wasn't.
A gentle breeze swept through the garden, brushing her hair aside. The wind felt warm—like an exhale against her cheek.
She heard a faint whisper carried within it.
Rhea.
She spun around so fast her gown swirled. The gardeners were nowhere near her. No one stood behind her. The breeze died as quickly as it came.
Her fingertips trembled where they held her skirt.
"I'm tired… that's all," she insisted, even as a sliver of fear threaded through her veins.
What she didn't know—what she couldn't know—was that beyond the mortal sky, in a realm made of rolling clouds and windlight, a pair of silver-blue eyes snapped open in sudden awareness. Aelion, the Sky Dragon God, rose from centuries of sleep with a single word echoing through his mind:
Bride.
And far below him, the wind curled lovingly around the girl who had unknowingly called to him.
Rhea tried to shake the sensation away and hurried toward the infirmary. The palace guards greeted her with respectful bows, but she barely heard them. Her chest felt tight. Her skin felt too warm beneath her collarbone. This morning, her magic sat close to her skin, restless and alert.
Inside the healing wing, injured soldiers lay in rows. Rhea moved from bed to bed with practiced grace—healing burns, closing wounds, cooling fevers. Golden-green light flowed from her hands like warm water, leaving behind blooming vines of temporary magic that faded slowly into the air.
She reached the last cot where a soldier lay with his forearm burned. Rhea picked up a small lantern to examine it. The flame sputtered—
Then bent toward her.
Not toward the air.
Not toward the wound.
Toward her.
The fire leaned close, almost touching her skin like a lover seeking her warmth.
Rhea's breath hitched. "No… no, no—"
She jer ked back, but the flame followed, stretching toward her collarbone. It didn't burn her. It felt warm—gentle, even comforting.
That made it worse.
One of the healers gasped. "Princess, fire—fire never bows!"
She had no answer.
Because she felt it too.
The fire wasn't obeying her.
It recognized her.
Deep beneath the world, wrapped in molten rivers and volcanic stone, the Fire Dragon God opened his crimson eyes. Kaelith sat up slowly, flames coiling around his body like loyal serpents.
Her scent.
Her magic.
Her presence.
It hit him like a punch to the chest.
"So you finally breathe," he whispered, possessiveness roaring through him in a hot, violent wave.
The lantern flame in Rhea's hands flared in response. She gasped and dropped it. The flame curled around her ankle before flickering out on the stone floor.
A healer whispered, trembling, "Your Highness… are you blessed?"
Rhea didn't feel blessed.
She felt hunted.
She excused herself quickly, walking fast, almost running, her hands shaking. This was beyond strange. Water responding to her. Fire bending for her. Wind whispering her name.
What next?
She found her answer near the palace fountain where she often spent afternoons helping children with small injuries. Today, a group of them splashed in the shallow water, laughing loudly.
"Princess Rhea!" one called, holding a frog with a broken leg. "Help, please!"
Her heart softened, if only for a moment. She knelt, using gentle magic to mend the frog. The children cheered, chasing it happily as it hopped away.
Then the fountain erupted.
A towering column of water rose without warning, crashing upward in a twisting spiral. The children screamed, scrambling away. Rhea stumbled back, soaked as icy water fell over her.
"No mage cast a spell!" someone cried. "It—It moved on its own!"
Rhea stared, wide-eyed, her breath fogging in the cold mist. The water still churned with unnatural energy, swirling closer to her, like it wanted to touch her again.
Her magic stuttered inside her chest.
Under the distant ocean floor, far beneath coral kingdoms and sunless currents, Seryon opened his eyes. The Water Dragon God exhaled softly, the ocean bending toward him like an obedient tide.
Her fear brushed against his heart like a trembling echo.
"I hear you," he murmured. "Little one… what frightened you?"
The waves near Rhea slowed instantly, settling into gentle ripples as though soothed by an unseen hand.
Rhea backed away until her spine hit a pillar. Her breathing came too fast. Her heart was too loud.
"No more," she whispered. "Please, no more."
By the time she returned to her chambers, her gown was half-dry, her hair tangled, her nerves pulled thin. She lit a candle to calm herself.
The shadows moved before the flame did.
Her breath caught.
Her own shadow shifted naturally… but four other shadows on the opposite wall remained perfectly still, even when she moved.
They watched her.
She felt it—felt the weight of their stillness, their awareness, their collective presence pressing gently into the room.
"Who's there?" she whispered, voice trembling.
The shadows stretched toward her feet like seeking hands.
At that very moment, deep in the mountain core where no sunlight had touched in millennia, Draeven opened his golden eyes and stood. The Earth Dragon God felt her fear like a tremor running through the world. Stone cracked beneath him as he rose fully.
"Don't fear the dark," he rumbled softly. "It moves to protect you."
The shadows in Rhea's room eased back slightly, almost respectfully.
Rhea's knees weakened. She pressed herself against the bedpost to stay upright.
"Why is this happening to me?" she whispered.
There was no answer.
Only the wind brushing her hair.
The candle flickering toward her.
The shadows curling gently like arms around her.
The water outside calming to a whisper.
Four elements circling her like a silent vow.
She changed into a dry gown and stepped out onto the balcony, hoping fresh air would clear her mind. The sky was clear, but the air felt too heavy, too warm—charged with something she didn't understand.
She closed her eyes.
And the world fell quiet.
A breeze rose suddenly, curling around her waist like gentle arms pulling her close. Warmth slid along her spine. Her skin prickled with awareness.
A whisper touched her mind again—closer this time.
Soon.
Rhea staggered back, pressing her hand over her pounding heart. The glow beneath her collarbone flickered faintly under her gown.
"No… please stop…"
But the wind didn't stop.
It held her.
The air grew warmer. Her lips parted.
Four realms stirred as one.
And in that single moment, across the sky, the deep sea, the volcanic abyss, and the mountain core, four dragon gods lifted their heads.
Their instincts sharpened.
Their senses aligned.
Their blood surged with ancient fire.
They felt her.
Her breath.
Her heartbeat.
Her awakening power.
Her existence.
And with one shared, ancient instinct—one echo rolling across the world—
they whispered her fate:
Bride.
Rhea's eyes filled with tears she didn't understand.
The world was no longer merely watching her.
It was claiming her.