“Moving out was the right call. You’ve got way more freedom now.”
September 10—the Endless Sea, Cycle 9.
Outer Windrest City, Sunset Cove.
Thea padded through the last spill of sunset, bright as scattered gold, exploring the two-story house Ethan had rented like she’d bought it herself. She inspected every room, every piece of furniture, every corner, tossing out opinions with the seriousness of a landlord.
Ever since that night—when she’d taken in her Black Dragon ancestor’s power inside the Sorrow Theater—she’d been holed up in a monastery cell, digesting what she’d inherited. The gap between her and that ancient power had been obscene. The last few days had been pure agony.
Today, she finally had it under control.
Ethan leaned against the doorway of the small dining area on the first floor, watching her study a wooden cupboard. “So? How do you feel?”
Thea shut the cupboard and turned with a smile. “Are you asking about me, or the house?”
Ethan didn’t answer. He meant both.
“The house is nice,” she said. “Old, sure, but the light is good. You’ll sleep well here.”
“And me?”
Thea’s smile softened. “I’m fine. Painful, but fine.”
Ethan’s gaze flicked over her—no longer the same girl who’d once had to bluff her way through noble salons with a cat’s body and a gambler’s grin. The power around her now had weight. A pressure you could feel in your teeth.
“What’s your rank?” Ethan asked quietly.
Thea tapped her chin as if thinking about dinner. “Tier 4. Seventh Grade.”
Ethan exhaled through his nose, more impressed than he wanted to show. In nine Cycles, he’d clawed his way to Tier 4 as well. Fast by any sane standard. But Thea had leapt upward by swallowing a legacy that was meant for her bloodline.
A Black Dragon at Tier 4, Seventh Grade wasn’t the same as a human at Tier 4, Seventh Grade.
And if what Haizan had said was true—if the gap at Tier 5 only became a true abyss once someone possessed a godhead—then Thea, right now, was terrifyingly close to the “ceiling” of power in the Endless Sea.
In a straight fight, she could probably kill Panglos Fell.
The Governor was Tier 4, Ninth Grade. Lower.
The thought didn’t make Ethan feel safe. It made him wary.
“So,” Thea said, drifting upstairs, “are you going to keep pretending this place is temporary?”
“It is temporary,” Ethan said. “Everything is.”
At the top of the stairs, she paused, eyes narrowing. “You’re still planning to revive Haizan.”
“I am.”
They’d talked about it on the way here. Ethan wanted Haizan alive again, with the Tide Scepter in hand—so he could carve a pocket-space out in the untraveled outer sea. A refuge.
If they failed—if humanity turned on a dragon and a clan of trolls—Ethan wanted somewhere to run that no one could reach easily.
“Going public as a dragon and taking revenge in the open is the worst option,” Ethan said. “You know that.”
Thea snorted. “I know. And besides… if my Black Dragon identity gets out, the ‘hidden’ dragons will try to kill me too.”
Old grudges. Bloodline politics. Dragons did not forgive.
Thea’s mouth tightened, hatred blooming in her eyes—then she forced it down. “Your instincts are right, though. Something’s shifting.”
“In Windrest Keep?” Ethan asked.
“In the fortress,” Thea said. “Your governor has a calmness that isn’t normal. And behind him… there’s that Soulreaver touched by taboo arts.”
Ethan remembered the Governor’s smooth smile, the way he’d moved like the world already belonged to him. He also remembered how quickly the King had refocused on Storm Island—how Red Falcon had been ordered back immediately.
As if the moment the Sorrow Theater collapsed, something buried finally surfaced.
Ethan didn’t like coincidences.
They reached the second floor. A spare bedroom had been turned into an improvised storage room. Thea glanced at a glass tank on a desk—water sloshing gently.
“That still here?” she asked.
Ethan followed her gaze. The fish tank. The “egg.” The thing he’d dragged back from a chain of disasters and then shoved into a corner because he’d run out of time to be horrified.
“The mermaid egg,” Ethan said.
Thea’s grin turned sharp. “You keeping it in the bedroom? Bold.”
“I was going to move it.”
“You should.” Thea’s eyes gleamed with mean amusement. “Because if you’ve got a weird kink, I’ve got bad news.”
Ethan gave her a flat look.
“It’s male,” Thea said breezily. “And from what I’ve seen, it’s an adult male who curled back into the egg because he was hurt. Everyone knows merfolk only crawl out after sunset.”
Ethan froze with the tank half-lifted. “…You couldn’t have told me earlier?”
Thea shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
Ethan set the tank down like it might explode. “Where do you get this stuff?”
“History,” Thea said sweetly. “And gossip.”
He started to drag the tank toward the hall—
The water trembled.
The egg shifted.
Ethan’s hands tightened.
Time bled away with the light. By the time the room was fully dark, the surface of the water broke.
A figure rose out of the tank—slim, graceful, hair curling down past her waist like wet ink.
Not male.
The silhouette was unmistakably female.
Ethan turned slowly.
Thea stared at the ceiling, expression perfectly innocent, like she’d never lied in her life.
Ethan: “…Right.”
The room fell into a brief, awkward silence.
A voice—soft and lush—floated through the dark.
“To meet you like this… I’m honestly a little embarrassed.”
—