With Roxy currently, and quite enthusiastically, held hostage behind the doors of the western wing by a desperately clingy Snake King, the management of the Iron-Wood Manor’s chaotic youth fell entirely onto the remaining Alpha Kings.

And by midday, the wolf twins were practically vibrating out of their skin, they wanted to go outside more and that made them extremely restless..

"Enough," Zarek boomed, his deep, gravelly voice echoing off the ceiling of the grand hall as Onyx attempted to vault over the feasting table.

The Dragon King pinched the bridge of his nose, his golden eyes completely exasperated as he looked at the two hyperactive wolves. "If you two tear down one more tapestry, I am going to hang you by your ankles from the rafters. You need to hit something that isn’t my furniture. We are going to the Dragon Peaks."

The twins stopped dead in their tracks, their blue eyes lighting up with sheer excitement.

"Can we come?!"

Tanith and Iris practically materialized from the eastern corridor. The ten-year-old snake-shifter and the seven-year-old wolf pup were holding hands, their eyes wide and pleading.

"We want to see Drax too!" Tanith chimed in, her clear, sweet voice echoing perfectly in the hall. "I haven’t seen my big brother since before I went to sleep!"

Zarek hesitated, his protective draconic instincts warring with the logistical nightmare of taking four children up the treacherous, volcanic mountain paths.

"I will take them," Torian volunteered smoothly, stepping into the hall and rolling his massive, heavily muscled shoulders. "The girls and I can take the ground trails. I need to stretch my legs anyway. Kaelen and Caspian can hold down the fort here."

Kaelen, who was currently holding a happily babbling Little Fedor, offered a solemn, highly relieved nod from the stairs. Caspian, standing nearby with Zale resting on his hip, saluted them.

Within the hour, the great exodus from the Manor commenced.

Zarek shifted into his colossal, magnificent black dragon form in the eastern courtyard. With a deafening roar that shook the melting snow from the pines, he launched into the sky, carrying the wildly cheering wolf twins securely between his neck spikes. Down below, Torian shifted into a massive, towering White Tiger. Tanith and Iris climbed onto his broad, fur-covered back, burying their hands in his thick coat as the Tiger Alpha bounded effortlessly up the rugged, thawing mountain trails.

The journey to the Dragon Peaks was a breathtaking vertical climb. The crisp, humid spring air of the lower valleys rapidly gave way to the sharp, biting scent of ozone, sulfur, and ancient ash.

When Torian finally crested the massive, jagged obsidian gates of the training grounds, Zarek had already landed and shifted back into his human form. The Dragon Alpha stood near the edge of a massive, sunken sparring ring carved entirely out of blackened volcanic rock.

In the center of the ring, a teenage drake was currently engaged in a brutal, high-speed combat drill.

Drax was shirtless, his thick, heavily muscled torso slick with sweat and coated in a fine layer of gray ash. He was moving with blinding speed, his hands igniting with lethal bursts of black hellfire as he struck the wooden training dummies, reducing them to glowing embers with every punch.

Torian knelt, allowing the girls to slide off his back before shifting into his humanoid form.

"Drax!" Iris shrieked happily, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Drax violently halted his drill, a blast of hellfire sputtering out in his palm. Hw spun around, his sharp green eyes locking onto the group standing at the edge of the sparring ring.

He froze completely solid.

Drax had grown over the winter, his shoulders broadening and his jawline sharpening to look strikingly like a younger version of his terrifying father, but his growth was entirely overshadowed by the absolute shock of seeing his siblings.

He dropped his guard and scrambled up the steps.

"Oh my goodness," Drax breathed, his jaw literally dropping as he looked at Axel and Onyx, who were now standing nearly at his chest level. "What is mother feeding you? You two were literally biting my kneecaps a few months ago!"

Axel smirked, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms. "We are Warlords in training. We grow fast."

"And me!" Tanith announced, stepping out from behind Torian’s massive legs.

Drax’s green eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. The last time he had seen the swamp princess, she was a toddler who only knew how to ask questions. Now, she was a beautiful, poised girl who looked ten years old with an ethereal, iridescent shimmer to her pale skin.

"Tanith?" Drax gasped, stepping forward to gently poke her shoulder, as if ensuring she was actually real. "You got massive! And you’re not drooling anymore!"

Tanith giggled, swatting his hand away playfully. "I am a big snake now, Drax. I could probably squeeze you until you pop."

Drax let out a booming, genuinely happy laugh, reaching out to roughly ruffle the hair of both wolf twins before pulling Tanith and Iris into a quick, fiercely protective brotherly hug.

But the heartwarming reunion was violently, abruptly cut short.

"Socializing is a luxury for those who have mastered their core, Prince!" a gravelly, deeply scarred voice barked across the training grounds.

Malcor, the elder marched toward them. He offered a crisp, brief salute to Zarek and Torian, completely ignoring the children.

"Your footwork was entirely sloppy on the third rotation, Drax," Malcor criticized harshly, pointing a thick finger at the center of the ring. "If that dummy had been a rogue , it would have bitten your leg off. Back to the ring. Now."

Drax groaned, his teenage rebellion flaring for a split second before the rigorous discipline took over. "Yes, Elder."

"Wait!" Onyx shouted, a fierce, highly competitive spark lighting up his blue eyes. The pre-teen wolf stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "We want to see how he’s doing. Let us spar with him!"

Axel grinned, immediately falling into step beside his twin. "Yeah. Two wolves against one drake. It’s fair."

Malcor looked down at the two lanky, overconfident wolf pups. A smirk slowly stretched across the elder dragon’s scarred face. He looked at Zarek for permission. The Dragon Alpha simply crossed his massive arms and gave a single, consenting nod.

"Get in the ring, pups," Malcor ordered.

With a synchronized, feral howl, Axel and Onyx bounded down into the arena. Drax smirked, shaking out his arms and igniting a small, controlled spark of fire in his palms.

For the next hour, the Dragon Peaks echoed with the sounds of brutal, chaotic, and entirely joyful sibling combat.

Zarek and Torian retreated to the sidelines, settling onto a pair of massive benches situated beneath the shade of a tree canopy. Iris and Tanith sat right on the edge of the ring, swinging their legs and screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Hit him with a fireball, Drax!" Iris cheered ruthlessly.

"Bite his ankles, Onyx!" Tanith countered, completely invested in the chaos.

As the warlords watched their children fight, Lyra approached the canopy. She wore light carrying a massive wooden tray balanced effortlessly on one shoulder.

"Refreshments, my Kings," Lyra murmured respectfully, setting the tray down on a stone table between them. It was loaded with thick slabs of heavily spiced, roasted mountain-goat and two massive, iron tankards overflowing with dark, rich ale.

Torian grunted his thanks, immediately tearing into the meat. "This is exactly what I needed. Peace, quiet, and watching my sons attempt to tackle a fire-breathing teenager."

Zarek took a long pull from his tankard, his golden eyes filled with profound pride as he watched Drax expertly dodge a coordinated pincer attack from the twins. "They fight well together. The pack instincts are flawless."

As the sparring match continued to escalate into a dusty, ash-covered brawl, heavy footsteps crunched on the volcanic rock.

Malcor stepped under the shade of the canvas canopy. The elder dragon didn’t look at the sparring ring; his gaze was fixed entirely, intensely on the Dragon King. He stood at strict military attention, his scarred face grim and deeply serious.

Zarek lowered his iron tankard, his dark brow furrowing. "Report, Malcor. Is there an issue with the perimeter?"

"No, Alpha. The perimeter is perfectly secure," Malcor replied, his voice dropping into a low, completely formal cadence that felt entirely out of place amidst the cheering children. The elder dragon paused, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The elders convened last night," Malcor continued, his tone heavy with ancient tradition. "The preparations are nearly complete, my King. The ancestral altars have been cleansed, and the tributes from the lower peaks are secured."

Torian stopped chewing, a sudden, deep frown creasing his forehead as he looked between the elder and Zarek.

Malcor suddenly asked Zarek, "When do you want the coronation to happen?"

Torian’s blue eyes blew wide open. The massive piece of roasted meat slipped from his fingers, hitting the stone table with a dull thud. His brain, still deeply, traumatically scarred by the sudden, catastrophic passing of the Trickster King just a month prior, instantly jumped to the most horrific, absolute worst-case scenario.

A coronation meant a transfer of power. A transfer of power only happened when the reigning King stepped down.

And in the Beastworld, Kings did not step down unless they were dead.

Torian violently grabbed the edge of the stone table, his knuckles turning completely white. He whipped his head around, staring at the perfectly healthy, terrifyingly powerful Dragon Alpha sitting beside him with absolute, unadulterated panic.

Torian looks at Zarek. "Are you dying soon too?"