(Stacy POV)
Kitsuna had changed since her evolution. It was not just her power, which was evident in every sharp movement and every flare of mana that bent the air around her; it was also her presence. Her eyes had grown wilder, sharper, like they cut through everything they landed on. And yet, despite all of it, she still carried herself like a child who hadn't learned how to fit her own skin. She barely touched her chakrams. Her magic was raw, unpolished, like a blade pulled from the forge before the tempering. She needed a teacher who could shape that chaos.
And Kayda… Kayda might be the one to bring that out of her.
I turned to look at her—and immediately noticed something was off.
Her hands kept drifting behind her, fingers digging lightly into her back. Not scratching idly. It was deliberate. Almost frantic. The same way she does when she's hiding something.
I frowned. Without a word, I stepped closer and tugged her collar down before she could protest.
"Y-yelp! Stacy!" She squeaked, jerking forward.
But I'd already seen it. Her skin was cracked, jagged lines peeling in uneven patches, as if the outer layer was ready to fall away. Ecdysis.
My breath caught. "Kayda… why is your back like this?" My voice lowered, not in anger but in worry.
She didn't answer. Not directly. Her eyes were locked instead on Kitsuna, unconscious on the ground, streaked in blood. The look in Kayda's eyes wasn't simple worry. It was heavier. Tortured.
"Do you want to talk in private?" I asked carefully.
Her throat bobbed. "…Yes. Please."
I didn't give her the chance to hesitate again.
"Take Kitsuna to the aircraft," I ordered curtly over my shoulder. My voice left no room for questions. Then, before Kayda could second-guess herself, I gripped her shoulder and vanished us from the battlefield.
When we reappeared, the world was nothing but sky and stone. A forgotten watchtower rose out of the cliffs a kilometer away, high above the world. Wind howled around us, sharp and cold, tugging at our clothes and hair.
Kayda's tears had already started.
I faced her fully, searching her face. "Why are you crying?"
Her lip trembled. Her voice cracked. "Because I'm a failure, Stacy."
The words hit me like a slap. "Failure?" I echoed. My jaw tightened. "Kayda, we've talked about this. You are not a failure. You're different, yes. But not broken. Not worthless. You're a special dragon. Your father was wrong to cast you aside."
Her eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling fresh. "No… I was meant to fail from the start."
I blinked, the chill in my chest deepening. "…From the start? What do you mean?"
Her gaze rose, wet and pained, and for the first time she didn't hide it. "My soulmate is a fox. Do you know what that means? I'll be a joke, Stacy. To dragons, to demi-humans, even to humans. They'll all laugh at me. That a dragon sage, daughter of Vermillion, bound herself to… that."
It took a second for the words to hit me. Then they did. My blood ran cold.
"…Kitsuna?" I whispered.
She nodded.
My heart lurched. I stumbled back a step, the stone biting my heel. The world tilted. Should I be happy? Angry? Afraid? My mind clawed for footing and found nothing. Amari's bond with Zagan was messy enough, but this… a soulmate? A dragon's soulmate? That was forever. Absolutely.
Kayda—my best friend—is bound to my daughter.
My daughter-in-law?
"What the fuck…" The words tore out of me, raw, before I could stop them.
But then I saw her expression—not joy, not awe—shame.
"Wait," I snapped, finding my balance, my voice sharper now. "Aren't you glad to have found her?"
"Yes. And no." Kayda's voice broke on the words. "A part of me is… happy. But the other part, the part that sees she's a fox, refuses it. It feels… wrong."
Something inside me snapped. I lunged, fisting her collar and hauling her up so our faces were inches apart.
"You listen to me." My voice was low, venomous, and trembling with the weight of my fury. "Kitsuna is my daughter. Not by blood, but by bond. If you dare dismiss her—if you ever reduce her to just a fox—I will not forgive you. Not even you, Kayda."
Her lips parted, trembling. "…Lives? What do you mean?"
The question cut deeper than I expected. My grip slackened. For a heartbeat, the memories I had buried surged up like a tide.
I exhaled harshly, my voice a rasp. "She's carried more than one life, Kayda. You don't understand. She's seen worlds collapse. Watched them rot, watched herself rot with them. Every scar she wears isn't just from here."
I shut my eyes, pressing a palm to my face as if I could shove the words back inside. "Five years. Ten. More. Pain that doesn't end, it just piles higher. You see her smile, but you don't see how cursed she is to keep surviving."
Kayda sat frozen on the stone floor. The wind whipped her hair across her face, drying the tears into pale streaks, but her eyes stayed locked on me—horrified, stricken.
I steadied myself, but my voice stayed sharp. "You think she's just a fox. But you haven't even begun to see what she's endured."
I forced myself to continue, slower, each word dragging. "Three years ago… Duke Vermillion's experiments. She was the last child left standing. Except she didn't stand. She died. He filled her with primordial blood, and it killed her. But she came back. Not clean. Not free. Twisted. Her very race rewritten. Her curse chained her with regeneration that makes death nearly impossible. Strip her mana, cut off her head—maybe. Otherwise? She always comes back."
Kayda's breath hitched, her hands clenching against her knees.
"And that's not even the worst of it." My voice went hollow. "She's Wrath. A Sin Holder. The second strongest of them all. The hardest to leash."
I crouched in front of her now, forcing her to meet my eyes. "She's thirteen, Kayda. But she's immortal. Every choice she makes will outlast us all. So I'll ask you once. Are you going to help her carry it, or are you going to make it heavier?"
Kayda's eyes widened. Her body sagged, and she bowed low, forehead pressing against cold stone. "I… I'm sorry. I was selfish. Foolish. Please forgive me."
Her contrition cut through the air like the only honest thing left.
"I'll take that for now," I said, finally easing down to sit cross-legged across from her. "But don't think it's over. If you want her to accept you… you'll have to earn it."
She raised her head, confused. "Earn it? How?"
"You'll teach Amari. Full elemental training. Sage-level, before the academy begins."
She blinked. "…Amari? Not Kitsune?"
"You'll help her when you can. But Kitsuna's my disciple. Her weapon training stays with me. If you want her to see you as more than a fate-bound dragon, you'll need to prove yourself on your own merits."
Kayda hesitated, then a faint smile tugged her lips. "If she ever reached your level in weapons… that would be terrifying. And incredible."
"Three years," I said. "That's how long it took me to make her call me 'Mom.' You'll need at least that much."
A soft flush crept across Kayda's cheeks. She looked away, muttering, "Tch…"
I chuckled humorlessly. "Warnings, though. Kitsuna has… modes." I held up fingers one by one. "You've seen two."
Kayda tilted her head.
"First is her playful side—mischievous, light. Second is her serious mask. Cold, detached, the one she fights with. That one's dangerous because she forgets herself. Treats her life like nothing." My jaw clenched. "Once, during training, I cut her in half."
Kayda's eyes bulged. "You WHAT?!"
"She healed her lower body back in five seconds. With her curse amplifying pain tenfold. She didn't even flinch." I laughed bitterly. "Fifteen years of torment will numb anyone. Doesn't make it right."
Kayda shuddered.
"The third mode? Madness. I've only heard of it. Haven't seen it yet. Maybe we will tonight."
Kayda swallowed. "…And the fourth?"
My gaze darkened. "…Speculation. If she loses someone precious, or herself… Wrath will consume her. And then the world burns."
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the wind clawing at the stones.
Expanded Ending
Kayda lowered her head again, but this time it wasn't in shame alone. Her eyes darted to the side, unfocused, like she was looking into herself.
"I really…" Her voice cracked, softer than the wind. "…I really did treat her like nothing at first, didn't I?"
I stayed quiet, letting her speak.
Her hands twisted in her lap, claws scraping stone. "When she first joined us… I dismissed her. Called her fragile. Mocked her when she stumbled in training. I thought it was just teasing, but deep down I meant it. I saw her as lesser. I told myself it was because she was inexperienced… but no. It was because she was a fox. Because I couldn't accept that something so small, so un-dragonlike, could stand beside me."
Her breath shook. "And all the while… she smiled back. She joked. She teased me. And I thought she was too dumb to realize I was looking down on her. But she knew, didn't she? She always knew."
Her shoulders trembled, shame rolling off her like waves.
I let her stew in it; let it burn. Because she needed to feel it before it could change her.
Finally, I said, "Yes. She knew. But Kitsuna forgives more than she should. That's her weakness. She'll take the pain and keep standing. That doesn't absolve you."
Kayda's lips quivered. "Then I'll fix it. I swear I'll fix it. I don't care if she hates me for what I said, I'll… I'll spend the rest of my life proving I was wrong."
Her voice was raw, desperate.
"You'd better," I said, softer now but still cutting. "Because soul bond or not, if you break her, I will tear that bond apart with my own hands."
Her eyes widened. "You… you'd kill me?"
"Yes," I said, with no hesitation. "If it meant saving her."
The silence after that was thick, suffocating. Kayda didn't flinch away, didn't protest. She just nodded, jaw clenched, tears streaking down her face in silence.
I sighed and leaned back against the cold wall, letting the wind sting my skin. "…But I don't think it will come to that. You've got your chance, Kayda. Don't waste it."
She nodded again, slower this time. And for the first time since we'd arrived on that tower, I saw a flicker of determination cut through her shame. Fragile, but real.
It would have to be enough. For now.