The bond between a ranger and their beast companion was an extraordinary ability that transcended ordinary magic.

A ranger could perform a special ritual to summon their beast companion across vast distances without any mastery of spatial magic. Yet the ritual worked for nothing else but their own companion.

Ambrose had no idea how far away Naomi was, but it didn't matter. They could sense each other regardless.

Unfortunately, with the Dreamveil Barrier in place, he couldn't summon her directly. This faint resonance was the only way he could signal that he had returned from the sea.

He trusted that Catherine would find a way to contact him. As the elven queen, she enjoyed far more freedom in this forest than he did.

What Ambrose hadn't expected was how quickly Naomi would arrive. Barely three hours after their connection reestablished, as dusk deepened into night, a small black kitten slipped into his room and leapt into his arms.

He stroked the little cat's head, puzzled. "Why a kitten? Don't you prefer your black panther form? Can you shapeshift freely inside the forest?"

The Dreamveil Barrier severely restricted outsiders. Maintaining a single form was fine, but shifting again should have disrupted the bracelet's protection.

Naomi let out a soft meow before replying, "I ran here as a leopard, but the kitten form is better for sneaking around. As for the barrier, they gave me this."

She flicked her tail, revealing a small oak ring looped around it.

"With this ring, I can use magic without being affected."

Ambrose nodded. As expected, there was VIP treatment available. Someone like Catherine, a true honored guest, would hardly be forbidden from using magic like he was.

"Excellent. It seems Catherine really is being favored. How are things on your end? Getting along well with the druids? Have you learned how to transform into a dragon yet?"

That was what concerned him most. If Naomi couldn't become a time dragon, then everything was meaningless. Harvey would be doomed.

Naomi shook her head. "I've learned a great deal from them. My transformations are much stronger now, but becoming a dragon is still a tall order."

"Is it a matter of practice, or technique?" Ambrose asked.

"It's about understanding," Naomi explained. "Druid shapeshifting is fundamentally imitation. To transform into a creature, I must understand it. I can become a black panther because I once lived alongside one. Same with cats, which I used to raise. To become a dragon, I need contact with a real dragon."

"I know," Ambrose replied. "But aren't there elder druids here who can transform into dragons? I brought you to the Emerald Dreamwood to find out how they manage it. Perhaps they possess dragon bones or scales, which they familiarize themselves with in order to replicate through natural magic."

"We did find out," Naomi said. "To assume the form of rare creatures, the elder druids perform a special dream-immersion ritual. In dreams, they simulate contact with those beasts. After enough repetitions, they can master the transformation."

"Dream immersion? I didn't know that. Did Catherine uncover it?"

Naomi nodded. "While chatting with the druids, she subtly probed about wild forms. A young druid let something slip. It was very awkward—he was immediately sent away under some excuse."

Ambrose imagined the scene: the young druid was most likely another unfortunate fool dazzled by Catherine's charm.

"She's learning to use her advantages," he remarked.

"Her charm has been causing a lot of trouble, to be honest. Many druids became infatuated with her at first sight. One even proposed to her, claiming he would abandon everything to join the Court of the Silver Moon alongside her."

Ambrose sighed. "A double-edged sword cuts both ways. But that borders on sacrilege, doesn't it? How could anyone casually propose to an elven queen? Don't the druids consider that disrespectful?"

"The one who proposed," Naomi began carefully, "is the chieftain of a druid tribe, boasting particularly high status. They say he's the youngest elder druid in nearly five hundred years, and a member of the council besides. Barely anyone outranks him."

Elsewhere, an "elder druid" might simply refer to the leader of a druid circle. In the Emerald Dreamwood, it meant that the druid was a legend, and was the minimum requirement to join the Emerald Council.

It was no surprise that a young legendary druid, filled with talent and pride, believed himself the protagonist of the world. What seemed like a romantic legend in his mind likely appeared outrageous to others.

As a transmigrator, Ambrose had once harbored similar delusions. But centuries of harsh reality had taught him otherwise. Without cheats or divine favor, being a transmigrator was nothing special. As a half-baked legend who had reached that rank over centuries, he was exactly the kind of minor character in a novel who would be killed by the true protagonist.

"This dream-immersion ritual complicates things," Ambrose muttered. "To think there's no shortcut... Do I really have to send you to the Dragon Graveyard?"

This would be by far the most troublesome option.

Though Alabastra was a member of the Elegiac Society, the Dragon Graveyard wasn't an easy place to visit.

After the Lyon Empire expelled all dragons from its lands, dragonkind had grown extremely xenophobic, especially toward humans. Naomi, being human, would struggle to even enter their territory, let alone find a dragon willing to serve as her ‘study material.' It would require an enormous price on his part.

"...Wait," Ambrose said suddenly. "I do have a dragon."

He remembered that kid Geronimo, whom he had captured. He was able to transform into a dragon. Though he was technically counterfeit, he had been blessed by the Dragon Queen herself, and was a genuine godchosen.

But for Geronimo to transform, Ambrose would have to lift the seal on him. Sealed, he was human. Unsealed, he would become an uncontrollable dragon—one who might possibly devour Naomi in the process.

Ambrose had no reliable method to imprison a dragon with near-maxed magic resistance.

After weighing his options, it seemed he had no choice but to petition the druids for help. Perhaps this dream ritual could be accessed... for a price?

"Go back," he instructed Naomi. "Discuss the situation with Catherine. Continue gathering information from the druids. If possible, arrange a three-way meeting."

If Catherine stood beside him at the negotiation table, persuading the druids would be far easier.

Naomi nodded and slipped out the window, melting into the night.

Ambrose wasn't worried about her being discovered. She shared his power. Though she might yet lack for finesse, she had access to legendary strength. For a legendary druid, hiding within a forest would be trivial.

As he contemplated the dream ritual, he suddenly sensed something below: the dark aura he had felt on his arrival.

It should have been suppressed beneath the overwhelming natural energy, yet as night fell it seemed to grow active. A peculiar fluctuation brushed against his awareness.

Once again, Ambrose confirmed that it was no undead energy. It was something else, something malign.

He stroked his chin, searching his vast memory for a match among the catalog of evils he had encountered over centuries.

But nothing seemed to fit.

Within moments, the dark power grew more restless. Disturbingly, it felt directed at him.

"You've got to be kidding... It's targeting me? It must have sensed that I'm a lich!"

He reached that conclusion quickly. No matter how perfect his disguise, he couldn't change the nature of the magic within him. The strange force, drawn to his dark energy, surged toward him.

He couldn't cast any spells. If he did so, his bracelet would shatter, and he would fall into an enchanted sleep.

But if he didn't do so, and that malicious force reached him...

Exposure was the lesser concern. What worried him more was how that mysterious power might affect him.

Ambrose rushed out of his room and headed straight for the largest house in the hollow, the tribal elder's residence.

Whatever that dark power was, it had remained hidden. Either it feared exposure, or it was being suppressed by the druids. Either way, staying close to the druids was the safest choice.

He marched to the stone house and knocked firmly.

The pounding echoed through the night, startling several sleeping birds.

Moments later, a furious Sares flung open the door. "You'd better have a very important reason for knocking at this hour!"

Ambrose noted his flushed face, disheveled clothing, and the sweat on his forehead. Impressive stamina for someone his age. Druidic natural magic was truly remarkable.

Little wonder he looked so profoundly irritated, too.

Ambrose subtly extended his senses. As soon as Sares appeared, the restless dark power vanished, like something retreating underground.

The immediate crisis had passed. But Ambrose had no intention of returning to his room. What if the power came back?

He would have to cling to this old druid like a lifeline, at least for the night.

After a brief pause, Ambrose said, "I'd like to ask about a druid named Alina Sanda. Have you heard of her?"

Sares frowned. "Alina Sanda? That name sounds familiar... Wait. That was the name of one of my ancestors. How do you know it?"

Ambrose: "..."

What were the odds?