The air inside the prison hall was heavier than in the rest of Ignara.

  Not because of the darkness, but because of what the land itself was doing to those inside.

  The energy chains embedded in the walls and the ground were not only meant to restrict movement.

  They were slowly draining the bound dragons’ power, one pulse at a time,

  as if the planet itself was reminding them of their crime.

  Serath spoke in a low but firm voice,

  “Which one of you will speak?”

  A short silence followed.

  Then one of the dragons moved slowly.

  He lifted his head without hesitation, despite the restraints pulling his body down.

  It was Varkan.

  Once a leader, a name that had been associated with trust—before the First War.

  He spoke calmly, almost confidently.

  “I knew you would come.”

  Liora stepped directly in front of him.

  “We didn’t come to talk about the past,” she said.

  “We came to know why a leader like you betrayed his people and his planet.”

  A faint smile appeared on Varkan’s lips.

  “Betrayal?

  You call everything you dislike betrayal.”

  Serath’s claws tightened slightly.

  “You opened the path for the mechanical dragons.

  You caused a war in which thousands were killed.”

  Varkan replied calmly,

  “And your wars?

  How many dragons died defending Arkail’s decisions?”

  Liora stepped closer.

  “Answer clearly.

  Why did you cooperate with the machines?”

  Varkan paused, as if choosing his words.

  Then he said,

  “Because I saw a future…

  and he refused to see it.”

  “What future?” Liora asked.

  “A future where we don’t die defending old ideas.”

  One of the commanders behind her said,

  “You mean control.”

  Varkan shook his head.

  “I mean coexistence.”

  Serath replied sharply,

  “Coexistence with machines?”

  “With a new form of power,” Varkan said.

  “The mechanical dragons are not just machines.

  They are evolution.”

  “An evolution built on destroying the originals,” Liora said.

  “Being original does not mean staying frozen,” Varkan replied.

  Then he looked directly at her.

  “Arkail believes Ignara belongs only to us.

  That only we have the right to rule.”

  “And you?” Serath asked.

  “I believe power decides,” Varkan said without hesitation.

  “And the machines have power that cannot be ignored.”

  Some of the commanders shifted uneasily.

  “So the First War wasn’t defense,” Liora said.

  “It was an attempted coup.”

  Varkan laughed softly.

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  “Call it whatever you want.

  Yes, I wanted Arkail removed.”

  “So you could become leader,” one of the commanders said.

  “So I could lead the dragons toward a different future,” Varkan replied.

  “With human help,” Liora added.

  “Humans understand progress,” Varkan said.

  “More than your leader who clings to the past.”

  “But your plan failed,” Serath said.

  “It failed because the planet intervened,” Varkan replied.

  “Ignara refused to fall.”

  “And yet,” Liora said,

  “you’re here.”

  “Because you feared the idea, not me,” Varkan answered.

  “We feared the cost,” Liora said.

  Varkan looked around at the chains and the ground.

  “And now?

  The machines are returning.

  With a stronger weapon.”

  “Do you still believe in your plan?” Serath asked.

  Varkan replied coldly,

  “If you had cooperated with them,

  this weapon wouldn’t have been needed.”

  “Arkail will never accept the planet being ruled by something that isn’t its origin,” Liora said.

  “And that is why more will die,” Varkan replied.

  Tension filled the hall.

  Liora finally said,

  “We want to know what the machines are planning now.”

  Varkan looked at her for a long moment.

  “I won’t give you everything.”

  “Why?” Serath asked.

  “Because I still believe you’re heading toward the same mistake,” Varkan said.

  Then he added,

  “But if you don’t act…

  there will be neither origin nor future left.”

  While Varkan’s words echoed through the prison hall,

  and while the commanders stood before the traitors, trying to understand what awaited Ignara…

  Something elsewhere on the planet began to move.

  Not a decision.

  Not a meeting.

  But awareness returning.

  Kodom opened his eyes slowly.

  At first, nothing was clear.

  All he felt was a heavy pressure in his chest,

  as if a long sleep had suddenly been broken.

  The first thing he noticed was the cold-not the cold of air,

  but an internal emptiness.

  He lifted his head slightly.

  Then stopped.

  This was not the same place.

  Before falling asleep, he had been near an open area,

  clear ground, visible sky.

  Now…

  Trees surrounded him from every side.

  Black trunks.

  Tall.

  Intertwined.

  Without leaves.

  The branches overlapped above him, as if deliberately blocking the light.

  It wasn’t complete darkness, but the light was weak and scattered, barely reaching through the gaps.

  He sat up slowly.

  He looked around again, more carefully this time.

  “…This isn’t the same place,” he said quietly, as if testing the sound of his own voice.

  Nothing moved.

  But the sense of unease grew stronger.

  He stood up and turned slowly.

  The ground beneath his feet was solid and damp,

  as if it hadn’t seen sunlight for a long time.

  Then…

  He heard it.

  At first, the sound was very faint.

  Unclear.

  With no clear direction.

  He froze.

  He listened.

  “…Father…”

  His eyes widened.

  The voice didn’t come from in front of him.

  Not from behind him.

  Not from the trees.

  It came from inside him.

  He raised a hand to his head without thinking.

  “…What?”

  The voice returned, clearer this time.

  “Father… don’t leave me…”

  His body trembled.

  That voice…

  it was the same one from the dream.

  The child.

  He took a sharp breath and tried to focus.

  “This… is a dream. Just leftover fragments.”

  But the voice didn’t disappear.

  It changed.

  It was no longer only a child’s voice.

  Another whisper appeared—deeper, slower, older.

  A name.

  One name, repeated more than once.

  “…Noctira…”

  Kodom turned quickly.

  “Who’s there?”

  He raised his voice, directing it toward the forest.

  No one answered.

  But the name repeated.

  “Noctira… Noctira…”

  He stepped back.

  The feeling changed.

  At first, he thought the voice came from the trees, the ground, the air itself.

  But the more he tried to locate it, the clearer one thing became:

  The voice wasn’t external.

  It was inside his head.

  He placed a hand on his chest.

  “…Why do I know this name?”

  He tried to remember something.

  A memory.

  An image.

  A place.

  Nothing was clear.

  But the name didn’t feel unfamiliar.

  It felt disturbingly familiar.

  As if his memory knew it,

  but his mind couldn’t reach it yet.

  He took a deep breath.

  “Calm down. Focus.”

  He looked at the ground again.

  Then he remembered.

  The dragon.

  He turned quickly.

  The red dragon was still lying on the ground, motionless, breathing slowly.

  It hadn’t woken up yet.

  Kodom rushed toward him and knelt beside him.

  “Wake up.”

  He shook his shoulder carefully.

  “Wake up… we’re not in the same place.”

  Nothing happened.

  His tension increased.

  He reached out again—

  Then stopped.

  The ground trembled.

  Not violently.

  A short pulse, as if something had shifted deep below.

  He lifted his head immediately.

  The trees around him didn’t move—But something behind them did.

  A sound.

  Thud.

  Slow.

  Steady.

  One step… then another.

  Kodom stood up quickly.

  “…No.”

  He grabbed the red dragon and lifted the upper part of his body with effort.

  It wasn’t light, but he had no choice.

  The sound came closer.

  The rhythm wasn’t random.

  They were footsteps.

  Something was moving toward them.

  He looked between the trees.

  He couldn’t see it clearly.

  But the shadow—

  It was larger than the tree trunks.

  He whispered tensely,

  “We have to move. Now.”

  He pulled the red dragon harder and started running.

  Branches scratched his arms.

  Narrow trunks forced him to bend and twist.

  The light faded more as he went deeper into the forest.

  Behind him—

  The sound grew clearer.

  Then—

  He saw it.

  It wasn’t a normal creature.

  A massive black trunk moving like a body.

  Roots stretched like sharp legs, striking the ground with every step.

  Branches twisted without leaves, like distorted limbs.

  A tree.

  But it was walking.

  His heart stopped for a moment.

  Then he ran faster.

  He couldn’t see the path clearly, but he didn’t stop.

  He jumped over roots, slipped, nearly fell more than once.

  Then—

  The ground opened in front of him.