A cold knot tightened in Cactus’s chest. Marsh’s blank stare still haunted him, an unnerving void where he expected anger, fear, or even simple confusion. His charm, his supposed gift, had crashed against her silence like waves against a cliff. He couldn’t read her. He couldn’t even provoke a flicker of emotion. His talons clenched. That silent accusation, the invisible scar she’d traced—it gnawed at him. He prided himself on understanding dragons, on seeing the subtle shifts in their scales, the hidden anxieties in their eyes. Marsh had shown him nothing. He felt exposed, vulnerable, his usual confidence chipped away to reveal a raw, ugly uncertainty. Doubts whispered. Was he truly seeing anything, or just manipulating what he wanted to see? Was his charm merely a trick, a flimsy veil over his own fears? The thought churned his gut. He had to protect them. He *needed* to know what was happening. --- Voices buzzed, a cacophony of worry and frustration. Dragons from every tribe had gathered in the main hall of Jade Mountain Academy. Tonight’s emergency council meeting, called by Clay, was meant to address the growing unease across Pyrrhia. Rumors of strange disappearances, unexplained illnesses, and odd tribal border skirmishes had been circulating for weeks. The fragile peace Queen Glory had meticulously built felt like it was fracturing. Sitting near the back, Cactus scanned the faces. Relief washed over him to see Sunny, her usual bright demeanor tempered by concern. Clay looked stressed, his massive shoulders hunched. Even Glory, who usually exuded calm authority, had a tight line to her jaw. He watched carefully, trying to discern who was truly listening, who was merely waiting to argue. An almost imperceptible hum resonated through the stone. It vibrated low, a deep thrumming that seemed to settle in the bones, a quiet buzz beneath the surface of the loud debate. Cactus felt it, a familiar, unsettling presence. It wasn't loud enough for most to consciously notice, but he saw the subtle effects. Fidgeting talons, narrowed eyes, voices rising a fraction too high. Arguments erupted. SkyWings demanded stricter border patrols. SeaWings advocated for joint naval exercises. MudWings insisted on reinforced communication lines. Each tribe spoke from its own fears, its own self-interest, the unity Clay and Sunny championed dissolving into a muddled mess of distrust.

Broken Bonds