Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Valdier:
The sun dipped low over Valdier’s horizon, painting the twin moons with hues of amber and rose.
Zoran Reykill stood at the base of the ancient treehouse, a quiet hum of unease prickling beneath his skin.
The soft breeze rustling the golden leaves above did nothing to ease the pressure growing in his chest.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
There was a silence only a parent heard when something felt wrong, and right now, it was blaring.
Creon’s footsteps were soft but urgent as he approached. Zoran turned before his brother could speak.
“You haven’t seen them either,” Zoran said, voice low and clipped.
Creon shook his head. “The girls were supposed to be spending the night with Alice and Adaline, but Ha’ven and Adalard said Alice and Adaline told them that they were spending the night at our place.”
Zoran’s jaw clenched. “Zohar said he and the others were camping out in the treehouse to practice what they’ve been learning. I should have known better.”
One by one, the other dads arrived. Mandra. Trelon. Kelan. Ha’ven. Adalard. Vox.
All with the same expression—tight-lipped concern, barely concealed fear behind eyes sharpened by years of battle, diplomacy… and fatherhood.
“We checked the training fields. The palace quarters. Even the amusement park,” Mandra said, voice gruff. “Not a single one of them.”
“There’s no sign of Adaline or Alice either,” Adalard added, brows drawn together.
“And Roam, Jabir, Bálint—” Vox began.
“Gone,” Trelon finished, crossing his arms. “Just like the rest.”
In grim silence, they climbed the spiraling walkway up into the treehouse.
The moment they stepped inside, Zoran’s chest twisted.
Leftover supplies sat half-packed in a corner.
Crumbs littered the floor. A rolled sleeping bag was shoved haphazardly behind a cushion, and someone had forgotten their boots.
On the central cushion lay an open datapad…
with a glowing, hand-drawn map of a strange world with a title above it: The Seven Kingdoms.
Zoran didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
They were gone.
Zohar was gone.
Fury fueled by fear surged, hot and heavy. His symbiot pulsed along his skin, resisting his command, but Zoran closed his eyes and reached through their shared bond until he touched the symbiot’s last memory of the second link. The weaker one. The one that belonged to Zohar’s own symbiot.
The connection flickered.
Show me.
The symbiot resisted.
Zoran’s voice darkened in his mind. Now.
Reluctantly, like a child caught red-handed, the symbiot sent a flickering pulse of memory.
Zoran’s eyes opened wide as it hit him—images, sensations, voices in a rush.
Phoenix. A portal. The map. The plan. The laughter. The chaos.
And then—shattered light. Threads connecting the cosmos together fracturing. The world spinning out of control.
He staggered back a step, blinking hard. Hopelessness boiled beneath his skin. But beneath the fury… disappointment struck like a blade between his ribs.
He had trusted Zohar.
Trained him. Guided him. Loved him.
And still, his son had run headlong into danger without a second thought.
What were you thinking, Zohar? he thought with dismay. You’re supposed to lead one day, not disappear chasing wild adventures without a thought for those who look to you.
His hands curled into fists.
Maybe I’ve been too lenient. Too soft. Maybe I’ve let him believe there are no consequences.
He turned away from the others and crossed to the wide window overlooking the gardens below. The wind tousled his hair. A flock of night birds scattered below as a branch shifted in the breeze.
Behind him, the others exclaimed and raged as the dragon lords finished getting all the information they could from their symbiots and came to the same conclusion.
“Yes, they’re not on Valdier,” he said. “They’ve gone on an adventure.”
The room fell into a disbelieving and outraged silence.
He turned and met his brothers’ and friends’ worried gazes.
“Unfortunately, this is one where we can’t follow. Not unless the Goddesses themselves open a portal to another world. They’re... somewhere else.”
A long silence followed.
Creon stepped forward and rested a hand on Zoran’s shoulder. His voice was steady, but there was a haunted look in his eyes.
“We’ll get them back,” he said. “They’re together. We were just like them once—too brave, too foolish, too certain nothing could ever hurt us. Testing boundaries. Believing we were invincible.”
Zoran swallowed hard. “I should have taught him better.”
Creon’s grip tightened. “You did. That’s why I know we’ll get them back. We’ve all worked with the kids. They’re smart, and Goddess knows they are resourceful!”
“I just…” Zoran trailed off, then looked down at the floor. “Zohar should have known better than to do something this irresponsible.”
Trelon stepped in. “I agree with Creon. As long as they are together, they can do anything. I have to believe that or I would have gone crazy years ago.”
“They’re strong,” Kelan added. “All of them. This wasn’t just Zohar’s decision, Zoran. When you get them together, they can be reckless. But they’re also brilliant.”
Ha’ven nodded. “Screw this, I’m not giving up. If we need to talk to a Goddess, then I’ll damn well talk to a Goddess!”
Vox grunted. “That’s it; Roam is grounded for the rest of his life. Forget the long lecture.”
“We need to find them before the women find out. Forget grounding, lectures, or anything else. We are the ones going to be in hot water. If I have to get on my knees and beg, that’s what I’ll do to find a Goddess,” Adalard agreed.
That drew a rough, reluctant laugh from the group.
Zoran’s gaze returned to the garden. His hands curled on the frame, knuckles white.
“Okay, we’ll… try,” he said quietly. “And we’re going to do it before the women return.”
Loch Ness, Scotland:
Dolph spun in tight, frantic circles, his heart pounding harder than the current pressing against his body. His hands cut through the thick, icy water as he twisted, searching the void below, above, around. Shadows danced in every direction, stretching longer and darker the deeper he looked.
"Zohar? Juno?" he called.
The water swallowed everything.
Then—
A muted rumble vibrated through the depths above.
He shot upward. His powerful kicks sliced cleanly through the water, aided by his silent command to the water to propel him faster toward the surface.
Shapes appeared in silhouette—blurred and foreign. The glimmer of metal, a flash of color. The distorted outline of a boat.
And then—
Juno.
A human held onto Juno, a bright red float keeping them on the surface as the human kicked them both toward a boat. Then Juno was being tugged upward by the humans gathered at the edge of the boat. Voices echoed above the surface—garbled by the water, but filled with alarm.
Dolph’s stomach dropped.
This was Juno’s first time through a portal.
And I brought him here, Dolph thought bitterly. He’s my responsibility.
A sharp pain lanced through his chest as guilt flooded him. His brother was in danger—surrounded by strangers on a foreign world.
And Zohar…
The bubble he had created would only last so long. It had a finite amount of air. Magic or not, it wasn’t meant to survive deep-water pressure for too long—not without reinforcement.
If he didn’t find Zohar soon, the bubble could collapse.
Zohar could suffocate.
He squeezed his eyes shut, torn.
“Hang on, Juno,” he whispered to the water. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
He reached out to the surrounding currents and summoned the nearest coil of rope tethered to the boat.
The fibers slithered through the water toward him like obedient snakes.
He grabbed the rope, swam toward the stern, and expertly tied it around the propeller, weaving it tight in a sailor’s knot.
Not a permanent fix—but it would delay them.
He needed time.
With a last glance at the flickering surface above, Dolph turned and dove.
Down into the dark.
Down into the cold.
The light vanished almost immediately, swallowed by the weight of the loch. Loch Ness was no ordinary lake. It was deep—bottomless in parts. Ancient.
The temperature continued to drop with every meter. His skin, protected against the colder waters, shivered all the same. His muscles tightened, but he pressed on. Every powerful stroke of his arms and kick of his legs pushed him deeper into the pressurized silence.
Zohar, where are you?
He opened his senses, reaching into the water and connecting with it, listening the way his father had shown him.
The darkness was almost oppressive. The currents sluggish. The weight of centuries pressed in, like the loch itself was holding its breath.
His own strength began to stutter, panic trying to rise—but he shut it down.
Focus.
His father’s voice drifted through his mind—a memory.
"When you’re lost, Dolph, let the water speak. Listen to its breath, its rhythm. The creatures that live in it—they’ll guide you. Trust the water. It has always known the way."
Dolph stilled, hovering in the icy black.
He closed his eyes.
Slowed his breath.
Let his pulse fall into harmony with the loch’s quiet murmur.
He reached out—not with his magic, but with his soul.
He felt it.
A whisper. The subtle pressure of movement.
A pulse of life—curious, deliberate.
Something old brushed against his awareness. It was no fish, no serpent he had met before. It was vast, as quiet and gentle as moonlight on a sleeping lake.
It felt him.
Tasted the ripple of his magic. And lingered.
Not hostile. Not afraid. Just... curious.
A slow surge of water nudged against him—a greeting in the loch’s language.
Then—
Another nudge.
Not against Dolph, but something else.
Something else foreign to this lake.
He felt the shift in the current.
The creature had found something.
Zohar!