The Emerald Dragon did not roar.
It did not need to.
Its arrival was silence breaking—an authority older than voices. The cavern bent beneath its weight. Dust rained, timbers groaned, and every heartbeat in the mine stuttered into submission. Even Brandon, frost still clinging to his spear-hand, shifted instinctively to shield Frostwing and the basin where the koi floated.
The System's verdict flickered, cold as stone:
[Engagement Probability: 0%]
[Directive: Do not resist]
[Advisory: Observe]
The koi trembled, scales vibrating with the ache of unshed defiance. Do not resist. Do not fight. He would have hurled himself at the dragon's talons if Brandon hadn't pressed steadiness through the bond—calm, deliberate, a wall against reckless impulse. Wait. Watch. Learn.
Then the dragon's presence seeped into their skulls like poison in water—telepathy vast and suffocating. Every miner heard it. Every child in the hovels outside. Even the koi.
"So," it said, voice a chorus of grinding emeralds, "the time has come. I asked for ten carts of emeralds, raw and uncut. Yet I see only nine."
The miners broke, collapsing to their knees. At their front—Han. Shoulders bowed, hands scarred, he bent until his forehead scraped stone. "Mercy, lord of green flame. We have dug until the earth itself bleeds. Nine carts stand ready. Just one more day—one more week—"
The cavern shook with the dragon's laughter. Not joy—mockery. It laughed as a child might tear wings from an insect, as bullies once had when they poured water over a boy locked in a stall. Cruel, knowing, unhurried.
"Two months ago I granted time," the beast hissed. "Do you remember, little man? I ate your wife to buy it."
Han's breath broke. The twins, huddled near the carts, whimpered.
"And now," the Emerald Dragon purred, claws curling into the rock, "you offer me the same plea. Shall I eat them too? Balance must be kept."
Its talon struck swift, curling around the children, lifting them like insects plucked from dust. Their cries shrilled through the mine, desperate, terrified. Han screamed, clawing forward, his body breaking itself against aura and scale. "No! Not them! Take me—take me—but not them!"
The twins sobbed. Miners cowered. Frostwing's breath froze in her throat.
The koi watched—and the abyss inside him widened. He saw not only the dragon but a reflection of his own past: the classroom, the cold eyes of the teacher, his pockets turned out, the sneer of the bully demanding coin he did not have. Protection. Tribute. Emeralds. The same farce, written crueler and larger. His parents had not stood for him then. No one had.
But now children hung in a monster's claw.
The koi's fear burned away. What remained was sharp, steady, fearless.
Through the bond he flung his intent. Brandon answered with silence that meant ready. Frostwing's frost stirred—agreement without words. They had chosen their moment before the beast ever landed.
The Emerald Dragon opened its jaws, emerald fire glimmering on its tongue. The twins shrieked.
The koi moved.
Red shimmer burst from the basin like blood made light. He hurled himself upward, every scale blazing, straight at the dragon's face. Frostwing launched with him, a streak of white fire cutting through emerald glare.
The koi struck first—slamming against the dragon's eye ridge with all the weight his tiny body could muster, scales flaring crimson, defiance burning louder than reason. The beast reeled for a heartbeat, its grasp faltering.
In that sliver, Frostwing's talons struck—cold, precise, unerring. She snatched the twins from under the dragon's claw, wings beating fury into the cavern as she swept them clear.
Brandon's voice cut the bond, iron and breathless: Now!
The plan was no longer thought. It was action.
For the first time, the Emerald Dragon looked down—not at emeralds. Not at miners.
At the small, red spark that dared strike its eye.