"And you, Rauk," Thalso snapped. "Why do you shy away from fighting?"
Rauk looked down. He had come to the raid for power, to learn what battle truly meant, but until now, he’d never truly fought anything like that.
Thalso wasn’t done. He pointed at Kaedros. "And you! You lack originality. You cast faster than most mages I’ve seen, but your spells are weak, and you burn through mana like a leaking fountain."
He’d learned from books, abandoned and ignored in palace libraries while the other Dragon Princes were trained by masters of the craft.
His parents never wasted resources on him. Why should they?
Everything he was, he’d made himself.
"And the worst part," Thalso continued, "is you don’t understand your roles. Rota has the most physical power. She should be your Defender, holding the line."
"You, Kaedros, have the highest offensive output. You should be the attacker. And Rauk..." Thalso’s gaze sharpened. "You’re adaptable. You can support and strike."
Kaedros nodded slowly. It made sense. He’d always fought alone, and it hadn’t occurred to him to think in terms of roles, of team synergy. Even with Taria beside him, he never adjusted.
"But," Thalso said, his voice hardening. "That’s trash."
A windless aura pulsed from him like a shockwave. They were shoved back several feet by sheer force alone.
"Your enemy will adapt. Pick you off. Roles aren’t enough. I will make warriors of you. Not fighters. Warriors. One-person forces. If you decide to fight as attacker, defender, supporter after that, that’s on you."
The aura vanished. They stumbled slightly.
Kaedros blinked. Did he push us back with his excitement alone?
"But I’m a mage," he said cautiously to test the waters.
Thalso tilted his head.
"I mean—I’m a wizard," Kaedros clarified. "How do I fight like a warrior?"
"As I see it," Thalso replied, "a warrior fights with what’s within. A mage draws on outside forces. But that line? That’s a lie. Warrior or mage, either can be made."
He snapped his fingers. "Forget everything you know. I will rebuild you. You were a warrior? A mage? Now you are both. Something new."
Taria looked at Kaedros, and he shrugged.
That was what he had always been, Dragon Prince. Warrior. Mage.
Rauk didn’t care what they called it. He just wanted to be able to stand on his own.
"Enough with the drama," Chef yawned, looking as if she might nod off. "I’ve got better things to do."
"Very well," Thalso said. "Over to you."
Chef opened her mouth to speak, and the castle shuddered.
The ground rumbled. The air cracked with the groaning of stone. It was like mountains grinding against each other. An invisible current swept through the castle, shaking its very bones.
Kaedros had already formed a spell in his mind. Taria’s spear was pointed, steady. Rauk’s eyes had gone silver-gray.
"Is that who we’re fighting?" Kaedros asked cautiously.
Chef’s expression twisted into something sharp and bitter.
"No," she muttered. "That’s someone I hate."
"Who is that?" Kaedros asked, scanning the clearing, his eyes darting toward the shadows, the trees, even the air, but there was no one there but them.
Her eyes were locked on Thalso’s visor, unmoving and cold. It was like they were speaking silently and Kaedros wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. Throne of Ruinlight had already shown him things that defied all logic. Being here was a violation of logic.
Taria, growing frustrated and increasingly hungry, took a step forward and snapped, "What’s happening now? Are we getting food or not?"
The silent exchange between Chef and Thalso ended. The armored man cleared his throat with a metallic rasp. "Of course. You’ll fight for your food, as promised. What just happened..."
Chef stiffened, her dark eyes sharp as obsidian. "You dare?" she hissed into the air. "You dare enter my room? You’ve got a lot of guts!"
Kaedros tensed. He and the others looked around again, but still saw no one. Whatever or whoever Chef was addressing, it was invisible to them.
Oddly enough, Thalso remained calm, even relaxed.
Rauk shifted uneasily, his head turning back toward the forest path they had come from. "Nothing," he muttered. "No one’s there."
A sound fluttered through the air, carefree laughter, as light and distant as leaves rustling in a breeze, as though the wind itself had decided to giggle.
"I hate her," Chef growled, low and bitter.
Kaedros glanced at her. She doesn’t mean it, he thought. Not really.
"Don’t we all?" Thalso said, chuckling.
"Oh, so you all hate me?" came the voice, now lilting, musical, and impossibly close. "I should’ve stayed asleep, dreaming of all the books I want to read."
"You should have stayed asleep," Chef shot back, but a reluctant smile crept to her lips. "Dreaming of all the books I’m going to burn."
"You wouldn’t dare, Chef," the voice teased, now practically above their heads.
The three turned upward, and froze.
There, perched casually on the nearest branch, was a cat.
Except this was no ordinary feline.
It was the size of a medium-sized dog, its fur a shifting swirl of black and white, as if the colors chased and tangled around each other like living paint. Its emerald green eyes gleamed with unsettling intelligence.
"It’s talking," Taria said flatly, as though the others weren’t just as stunned.
"Yes, I can talk," the cat said, lips curling back to reveal small, gleaming fangs. "And it’s she. I’m a female. Why are you surprised? Trust me, I’ve seen far stranger things."
Chef snorted. "Just admit you’ve read stranger things, you pile of fur."
The cat’s slitted eyes rolled. "What’s the difference, you short lump of meat?"
Thalso laughed again, and oddly, the sound helped ease the tension that had coiled in their chests. The presence of the strange feline didn’t feel threatening, just... incomprehensibly odd.
"Allow me to introduce the castle’s librarian," Thalso said. "And its mage."
Kaedros blinked. "The cat is the librarian?"
Long tail flicked with practiced disdain. "Yes, that’s me. So, you’re the ones who woke me. The new candidates, after all this time."