The Sea Breeze
The sea breeze came like a brief message from another world—cold, salty, laced with spray that left a metallic and algal taste on the lips. At the southern edge of Atlas Island, between the green rows of breadfruit and coconut trees, where the sand turned dark crimson in some spots and returned to pale gold along the stone terraces, Rina stood.
Her long silver hair spilled down past her waist, its crimson tips glowing like threads of fire, and her crimson eyes—heavy now with the weight of Draciroth's heart—stared into the distant sea. On her tablet screen, the numbers shone: 1,876 achievement points, 20 trade points. Numbers that, until now, had meant little more than numbers—but here, they whispered to her, like an inner voice reminding her of the cost of every step she had taken and the value she had accumulated, a belt of protection wrapped invisibly around her.
She had not planned to seek conflict or trouble that morning. She had only intended to look for Sarafina—as much to find her as to find herself, to understand what had become of the one who had dared stand against her desires. Yet something in the air told her today was not ordinary. It wasn't just a sense of danger; it was a trembling deep within—a shiver at once familiar and alien. That pulse, the one that had become part of her since the merging with the dragon's heart.
The heart—the white heart burning with two red points inside—was beginning to recognize other notes. Notes neither human nor of traditional magic, but an older hunger, a vitality rising from the depths of the lower realms.
Rina raised a hand to steady her hair, brushing away cottony strands. She leaned forward slightly, straining to listen. The sea before her was folded like metallic cloth, glittering under a muted light, but it wasn't the source of the sound. It came instead from behind the mangroves—a rustle, a disturbance, a breath of sound.
Her heart jolted, though her mind—trained now to measure and calculate—took its time to translate the sensation.
Then the bushes shifted. A white shadow, sleek fur gleaming, movement fluid as a river. Out stepped Shizana—a white wolf nearly the size of a girl, with eyes blue as ice, as if the moon itself had made a home within her pupils. Rina felt both comfort and unease rise in her chest. Shizana was no stranger: a killer, yes, a creature who knew no restraint—but also a guardian, a companion.
Rena stared, the sounds of the island layering around her: distant water trickling, the faint chatter of birds, the hum of mosquitoes, the damp smell of moss and seaweed, even the faint lingering trace of cooking oil drifting from her camp. All of it formed a backdrop to Shizana's presence, which itself felt like an announcement: this is no game.
Rena's voice came clipped with concentration. "Shizana, what are you doing here?"
The guardian wolf answered calmly, her tone a mixture of tenderness and vigilance:
"Greetings, Princess Rina. I came on Lady Naoko's command. She ordered me to watch over you."
The words fell like a stone into a shallow pool. The name Naoko sent a jolt through Rina's chest—not merely because of surveillance, but because Naoko meant something larger than a mother-in-law: she meant authority, a coldness beyond measure, a decision never up for debate. For a moment Rina remembered that Naoko had shaped her too, had carved her future with the cruelty of an almost mythical matriarch. The thought that Naoko was listening to her, watching her, or—worse—caring for her, stirred in Rena a storm of conflicted feelings.
Her suspicion sharpened. "Why exactly are you watching me?"
Shizana's white tail flicked lightly across the sand, like a question mark.
"My lady, you are now part of the Rotschy family, but you are still registered as an Amberhart. Yes, you have your quarrel with Sarafina—that is a private family matter. But Lady Naoko does not tolerate reckless actions. You are her son's wife. If anything were to happen to you, it would become a matter of great consequence. So she sent me to watch you and intervene, if necessary."
The mention of Jin struck Rena like a spear to the chest—real pain, an old wound not yet healed. She had not seen her husband for seven whole days. A week. Those days had piled up in her heart like stones, nailing down every fleeting dream she might have clung to. Her voice broke slightly on the syllables: "Where is Jin? Is he all right?"
Shizana tilted her head, her icy eyes polished like mirrors.
"He is well. Not here—he is training in a private place, or perhaps on a mission. I don't know the exact details. But do not worry. I was assured he is safe."
Yet the answer rang hollow. Rena felt that there was more surrounding Jinn's absence than was being spoken. She knew, in the part of her now bound to a dragon's heart, that institutions like this were never simple. Naoko was never merely protecting her son. She was preparing something—feeding him honey in the form of power, perhaps readying him for a greater danger. Rina dared not voice this suspicion aloud. Truths often gained strength by being locked inside.
Her gaze slid back toward the sea, toward that point where the strange energy had first risen. "What is this energy? I can feel it—something strangely familiar, but not mine."
Shizana dipped her head slightly, every tilt of her snowy form sharpening her words.
"Yes. It is natural that you feel it. The dragon's heart inside you is not entirely human. Its nature is closer to demonic. That is why it responds to nearby demonic energies. Draciroth's heart recognizes their presence the way a predator recognizes the scent of prey. That presence is now approaching the island."
Rena's eyes widened, mirrors reflecting the fear and fire in her heart.
"Demons?! You mean they're going to attack the island—and the students?"
Shizana nodded slowly, her gaze as calm and merciless as frozen lakes.
"Yes. They are planning an assault—to abduct the students, or to offer them as sacrifices to their king. But do not be afraid for yourself. Those demons will sense in you something of their own kind. They will not see you as a typical enemy. They may avoid you, or even treat you as obscured from their vision. You are unlikely to be a direct target. But that also means you may become the center of their designs."
The island seemed to pause, as if listening to a piece of news it had not yet echoed back. A pressure bloomed in Rena's chest—not fear alone, but a tension at the thought that her new form might not be a shield but a beacon.
Her thoughts rose like a cry inside: Can Draciroth's heart really protect me? Or will it make me into exactly what I fear becoming?
Out loud, her voice was sharp, trying to sound analytical:
"Why do they want to attack the island? What do they want from the students and teachers?"
Shizana's voice flowed like a gentle breeze, calm but heavy with truth:
"They seek sacrifices. They want vessels of flesh, raw sources of energy. The students are not merely young humans—some carry seeds of resistance, rare inheritances. Such things can be devoured or forged into greater power. The demons harvest them for rituals."
At that word—rituals—an entire vision unfolded in Rina's mind: circles of blood, chanting children, dark clouds twisting into new shapes. A wave of nausea curled in her stomach—not physical, but spiritual. The kind of sickness born not from the body, but from seeing cruelty painted too clearly.
Her lips pressed tight. Then she asked sharply:
"Can I fight? Has my… has Naoko permitted it?"
Shizana's tail swayed, her wolfish ears flicking at the wind.
"Yes, you may fight. But not as a Rotschi. You are still registered under Amberhart. That gives you leeway—your actions will not implicate the Rotschi directly. Even so, Lady Naoko does not want rash behavior. As long as you do not act recklessly, I will remain at your side and intervene if necessary. But remember: demons are not only physical opponents. They are ideologies. They attack with curses, with rituals, with temptation. If you lose your balance, the cost will be greater than your own body. Our enemies never forgive mistakes."
The words landed like companions on a narrow path: protection, restriction, freedom.
Rina thought deeply, letting the long chains of thought knot and weave inside her. These were not fleeting notions but threads of a web: Draciroth's heart gave her power—and made her a weapon. Naoko watched and confined her, yet shaped her fate. The demons planned to use the academy as a harvest ground. And Sarafina—somewhere—was preparing her own schemes.
It took long minutes for the picture to assemble in her mind.
At last, Rena drew in a deep breath. The salty air filled her lungs, cooled her chest, steadied her. This was no reflex—it was a technique, a practiced balance, something learned under the weight of burden. Her heart—the dragon's heart—beat gently, whispering to her: Protect who you must. Do not rush. Do not show your enemies what they should not see. These were voices not entirely human, not mere thoughts, but the counsel of an ancient companion fused with her soul.
She lifted her head, crimson eyes blazing toward the horizon. The sand beneath her feet bore strange tracks—not human. Something had passed along the shore in the night. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the breeze, hinting at a ship moving offshore—a ship that might not carry friendly visitors.
The southern coast of the island, in that moment, became a stage. She could wait for Naoko's orders, alert the academy for a formal defense, or take action herself: gather students, fortify the tents, confront the demons at the island's edge.
She remembered her inner vow—to return after fifty-five days with something Jin could see, something to either fear or admire. Tension pressed against her ribs, but she cut it with thought:
"Step one—gather information. Don't fight blindly. Secure the students. Warn the teachers. Form small teams. Sweep the slopes. Stop their rituals before they begin."
But the dragon-heart whispered back: If they are preparing abductions, there may be no time to wait. Speed severs the rope of their schemes.
Shizana, who had watched her internal struggle, drew a small wooden signal-rod from the thick fur at her chest. With a precise gesture, she pointed southward, toward the incense trees standing like lanterns.
"I will remain nearby. I will show you what is revealed, and I will carve out safe pockets for the students. But you, Rina—you must decide. The heart of Draciroth will draw you in if you step forward. Do not underestimate it."
Rena straightened, her stance sharp. The first rays of sunlight brushed across the shoreline, casting long shadows. Her voice was low but edged like a blade:
"Fine. We'll protect who we can. We'll fortify the tents, get the children inside the academy or into sanctuaries where no rituals can reach. And if they try to begin their rites—I'll be there. Not to slaughter without reason, but to defend. And if Sarafina hides among them—I'll find her myself."
Shizana dipped her head in approval, ears twitching like a wolf sealing a pact.
Before the morning gave way to full daylight, they moved: they drank water, checked their tools, then slipped into the forest with a grace as light as feathers yet heavy with purpose.
The wind stirred, carrying whispers through the trees. Atlas Island, that morning, was preparing to unveil its secrets.
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Heat: Thank you very much for reading
I started to delay writing chapters that are of higher quality and more exciting. And also long