Before time was recorded, before the first civilizations carved their names into the fabric of history, the Timeless Ones existed. Beings of unfathomable power, they shaped the stars and breathed life into the void, crafting worlds and seeding them with potential. From their hands came many great races, but none as mighty as the dragons.

Born of fire and wisdom, the dragons rose to prominence, their empire stretching across the galaxy like veins of molten gold. For millions of years, they reigned—not merely as conquerors, but as stewards of creation. They nurtured fledgling civilizations, guiding them like celestial shepherds, blending peace with a rule that was absolute. Under their watchful eyes, countless worlds flourished, and yet, their dominion was a double-edged sword. Races under their care thrived, but they did not grow strong on their own. The dragons held the keys to progress, and in doing so, they held the chains as well. 

Suddenly, from the abyss beyond the known stars, a great enemy came. It was a force unlike any before it. It was an all-consuming darkness that devoured entire systems and left only ruin in its wake. The younger races, untested and unprepared, stood no chance alone. So they united against the darkness in a battle that reshaped the stars themselves. When the dust finally settled, they emerged victorious.

Yet, in their triumph, the dragons faced a terrible realization—it was their own dominion that had drawn the enemy in the first place. Their rule, no matter how benevolent, had stifled the natural course of evolution, leaving the younger races vulnerable. The great enemy had come not for them alone, but for the imbalance they had created.

With heavy hearts, the dragons made an unthinkable choice. They did not surrender, nor were they defeated. They simply chose to let go. Across the galaxy, they dismantled their empire with hope in their hearts. They scattered the seeds of new civilizations across the stars and granted each race that was under their domain the freedom to forge their own destiny. Then, without fanfare or farewell, they withdrew to their home system, erecting vast colonies where only echoes of their former power remained. Yet, true to their nature, they could never relinquish everything. A fragment of their empire endured. Small populations from each race were welcomed into their domain, their worlds allowed to flourish under the watchful eyes of their ancient guardians. For dragons, even in retreat, could never truly part with their hoard.

They believed that by stepping away, they had broken the cycle of destruction. That without their rule, the younger races would rise unburdened, free to shape their own fates. That the darkness, drawn by their dominion, would never return.

They believed balance had been restored.

Naomi shifted her weight, the worn fabric of her uniform chafing against her skin. Another hour stretched before her. Another hour spent standing at the massive oak doors of the grand hall. The muffled drone of the selection process echoed through the air. She had memorized the intricate patterns in the polished floor and could have written a thesis on the dust motes dancing in the filtered light.

Her fingers tightened around her rifle, which felt like a useless weight in her hands. Top of her class. Twilight Guard material. Still, she remained a sentry, while the others earned their glory. The word momentous rang hollow in her mind. Thousands of hopefuls competed for the honor of serving, drawn by the allure of shared prestige. And where was she? Guarding a room full of entitled noble brats more interested in gossip and finery than concerning themselves with the colony’s real threats. She scoffed inwardly. Any one of them, she could’ve bested in seconds. Top of her class. Flawless scores. And still—still—she wasn’t deemed worthy of the same elite special forces her father had built, brick by brick, like a monument to his own ego. The thought blistered.

Now, nothing more than a glorified sentry, her skills mocked her with every wasted day—proof of what she hadn’t earned. Her father’s voice echoed in her thoughts. It was a low rumble from a memory too distant to fully grasp: Potential unfulfilled. It mirrored the expectations she carried within, a constant internal judgment against her present circumstances. He had been gone for so long, presumed lost, but his legacy and unwavering dedication still shaped her aspirations.

Naomi’s wandering thoughts shattered as the hallway’s quiet hum snapped apart.

The massive oak doors behind her exploded open with a thunderous boom.

She spun, rifle snapping to her shoulder on instinct, heart slamming against her ribs as she locked onto the breach.

A woman stormed through the doorway.

Not hurried, but driven.

The air tensed around her, charged, as if the space itself braced. Purple hair streaked with green framed a face set in absolute determination, sharp and angular in a way that felt inhumanly precise. Small, polished obsidian horns curved from her temples, catching the light as she passed.

Naomi felt it then… It was a pressure she couldn’t name that prickled along her skin.

The woman swept past her without slowing, a deep violet gown rippling with motion, gems of green and purple glinting as though alive. A long, scaled tail trailed behind her, its iridescence flashing amethyst and emerald with each step.

Dragon, Naomi instinctually realized.

She had gone several strides down the corridor when a voice called after her.

“Lady Rayne.”

The woman did not slow.

Footsteps hurried behind her. High-ranking nobles spilled out after her, robes rustling, their earlier composure fraying as they struggled to keep pace. The same voice spoke again, sharper this time.

“Lady Rayne!”

Still, she did not turn.

Only when the nobles had nearly closed the distance did she stop.

She turned slowly.

Her gaze swept the group, eyes blazing with fury that made Naomi’s grip tighten on her rifle.

“Lady Rayne,” he said cautiously, “is something amiss? The selection process has not yet—”

“Silence, Alaric!” Rayne snapped, her voice slicing through the hall like a whip. “I have no time for your trivial concerns. This matter overrides your petty selection process.”

Alaric bristled, his pride stung by her dismissive tone. “Lady Rayne,” he retorted, his voice rising with indignation, “you may be a dragon, but you will show respect to this council! We are in the midst of a vital—”

Rayne’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of dangerous amusement playing on her lips. “Respect?!” she purred, her voice deceptively soft. “You dare lecture me about respect?”

Her eyes blazed with barely contained fire. “Do not mistake my current form or jovial nature for weakness, Alaric. I will not tolerate insolence. You, a mere noble, presume to question my actions? You forget your place!”

The air around her crackled with static. An invisible wave of pressure slammed into Alaric, forcing him to stumble backward. He gasped, his face contorted in shock as he felt the raw power emanating from her. The other nobles shrank back, their faces pale with fear as they witnessed Rayne, barely contained.

Rayne stepped toward the cowering Alaric, her eyes burning with icy fire. “I am Rayne,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “And I am not to be trifled with.”

She leaned down, her face inches from his. “Remember this lesson,” she whispered, her voice a menacing growl. “And never forget it again.”

A shiver crept down Naomi’s spine, driven by something deeper than fear. Simultaneously, the thrill of a dark, quiet satisfaction coursed through her. She had witnessed the nobles’ corruption firsthand, watched as they gorged themselves on power while the common folk starved beneath their rule. Rayne was right. They had forgotten their place.

A memory flickered in Naomi’s mind, hazy and fragmented, like a scene glimpsed through a dusty window. Her father’s face was a blur, yet noticeably etched with concern. He stood in hushed conversation with another man, their voices low and urgent.

“…growing bolder,” Vorex had said, his voice a low growl. “Their greed knows no bounds. They’ll bring ruin upon us all if we don’t—”

The rest of his words faded into the haze of memory, but the worry on her father’s face remained clear. He had seen the danger, the rot, spreading through the colony. Now, Naomi witnessed the consequences of that corruption firsthand.

Rayne paused, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as though savoring the hush that blanketed the hall. When she opened them, the icy fury in her stare had melted into razor-sharp focus. Her gaze swept over the petrified nobles one final time. Then she turned, her long tail swaying with calculated menace. With a final, dismissive flick of her wrist, she strode from the grand hall and vanished down a shadowed corridor, her presence lingering like the last crackle of a storm.

Naomi stood frozen, clutching her rifle tightly. The oppressive tension in the hall remained thick, now compounded by bewildered silence. The nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances, utterly stunned. Her pulse thudded so hard it echoed in her ears. What was that? She had never witnessed such raw presence from a dragon in person. Her mind reeled with a sudden, overwhelming need to escape the suffocating aftermath of the encounter. She had to find somewhere—anywhere—she could process what she’d seen, far from the fearful, watchful eyes of the elite.

But she couldn’t. She was on duty. One hour remained on her shift. It felt like the longest hour of her life, and protocol demanded that she stay. Her relief wouldn’t arrive until the chime, and until then, she was rooted to this spot, a silent sentinel over a hall now heavy with unspoken terror and bruised pride. She sighed. One more hour. Then, she would find her solitude.

The chime rang at last. It was shrill, insistent, and unmistakable. Naomi gave her relief a curt nod; he looked just as drained as she felt. Without a word, she strode from the grand hall, quick and resolute. The polished floors and hushed whispers in the corridor felt oddly soothing compared to the pressure she'd just escaped. Her feet carried her on instinct, steering her through a quieter wing of the building.

She approached a familiar chamber. It was a seldom-used space tucked behind the main corridors with a hidden balcony overlooking the city below. Naomi discovered it long ago, a quiet nook perfect for stolen moments of reflection between grueling shifts. She reached for the door, anticipating the usual stillness and comforting emptiness. As it creaked open, however, the quiet wasn’t hers alone. Someone was inside.

Seated at a small, elegantly appointed table near the balcony, the dragon emissary, Lady Rayne, enjoyed a light lunch. She looked up. Her eyes locked onto Naomi’s. They were fathomless black orbs swirling with faint violet and spectral white. Within them, tiny cold sparks flickered like distant stars, echoing the vastness of galaxies. They weren’t just eyes; they were cosmic windows into something ancient and unknowable.

A wave of profound shock rooted Naomi to the spot. She hadn’t expected anyone, least of all a dragon, in her secluded sanctuary. A flicker of panic seized her. This was a place for her, a mere human… not a powerful being. She immediately felt like an intruder, a trespasser in the presence of an elder.

Rayne, however, offered a soft smile. Something ancient and knowing flickered in her gaze and pierced through Naomi’s very soul. “I'm sorry, young one,” she said, her voice a melodic whisper, rich with unexpected contrition. “Did I intrude on your place of solitude? Please, you must forgive me.”

The words hung in the air. Such a profound apology caught Naomi completely off guard. A dragon, apologizing to her? It defied every lesson, every ingrained belief of her life. Her mind reeled.

Rayne gestured to the chair opposite her, laden with a few simple platters of cured meats and local cheeses. “As an apology,” she continued, her voice gentle yet carrying a subtle, undeniable insistence, “would you please join me for lunch? It’s not much, just some meat and cheese. But you look like you need a place to reflect, and I would be honored by your company.”

She paused with an unwavering gaze, a quiet command beneath the soft invitation.

Naomi hesitated, completely disarmed. To refuse a dragon was unthinkable; to accept felt presumptuous. Every instinct screamed for her to bow, to apologize for her presence, to vanish. But Rayne’s gaze held her. It held an insistence that brooked no argument and yet felt surprisingly… kind.

Slowly, Naomi nodded, a strange sense of bewildered deference washing over her. “Thank you, Lady Rayne,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper, and approached the table.

Naomi settled onto the plush chair, acutely aware of her worn uniform contrasting with the room’s subtle elegance. She fidgeted with her rifle strap, unsure where to look. The silence hung in the air, charged with anticipation rather than unease.

“This is quite the room,” Rayne began, her voice effortlessly casual, almost conversational, as if discussing the weather. “I confess, I’ve wandered these halls countless times over the centuries, but I’ve never quite noticed this particular alcove. It looks quite secluded. Definitely a good way to escape all the… arrogant, overbearing nobles, wouldn’t you say?”

Naomi's head snapped up, her eyes wide. Arrogant? Overbearing? The words hit her with the force of a physical blow—not for their content, but for the casual, almost irreverent tone with which they were uttered. A dragon, one of the revered beings she had been taught to view as immense, ancient, and powerful, speaking with such disdain about the very people her society held in such high esteem? It was disorienting. She had been raised to believe dragons were beings of absolute authority. Their power was undeniable and their wisdom was beyond human comprehension. This was like hearing an unbreakable force complain about a pebble.

“They really do take themselves far too seriously, don’t they?” Rayne continued, a faint, wry smile touching her lips, oblivious to Naomi’s internal turmoil. “All that preening and posturing, pretending their lineage means anything more than where they happened to hatch.” She waved a hand dismissively toward the hall. Such a casual gesture belied the immense power Naomi had just witnessed. “And the selections! Always the same. So much focus on appearance, so little on… substance.”

A spark of raw agreement, a flash of her own deep-seated frustration with the very same issues, ignited within Naomi. Her lips parted. “They do,” she started, the words nearly escaping, a bitter laugh on the verge of breaking free. But then, a cold dread seized her. What are you doing? The thought screamed in her mind. She was speaking to a dragon. She was about to openly agree with an elder about the flaws of her own society’s elite!

Her mouth snapped shut, the half-formed word dying on her tongue. The casualness of Rayne’s tone had completely thrown her off guard, making her forget her place. Her cheeks burned with a flush of embarrassment and self-reproach spreading across her face.

Rayne chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound. “Don’t worry, child,” she continued, her gaze sparkling with amusement, as if she hadn’t noticed Naomi’s near-slip. “It’s just us here. No need to stand on ceremony, especially after the spectacle earlier.”

She offered Naomi a plate. “Please, eat. You look as though you haven’t truly rested in ages.”

Naomi swallowed, the offered food a welcome distraction. Numbly, she took a piece of cheese. The unexpected normalcy of a dragon discussing pompous nobles and offering her food slowly chipped away at her defenses, leaving her feeling strangely exposed and confused.

As Naomi nibbled on the cheese, savoring its surprising richness, Rayne’s fingers idly rolled a small, transparent crystal orb back and forth across the polished table beside her plate. A smooth, simple object, a silent companion to her thoughts, its presence so subtle it barely registered.

Rayne continued to speak, her voice a low hum, seemingly lost in thought. “One gets rather… accustomed to quiet moments,” she murmured, a faint, almost wistful expression on her face.

With a subtle, nearly imperceptible gesture the crystal orb slipped from her grasp, rolling with silent grace across the polished table. It struck the delicate rim of a water goblet with a faint clink, then tumbled over the edge.

Naomi’s hand shot out, pure instinct guiding her. Her fingers closed around the falling orb, catching it just inches from the floor. She straightened, holding the small, transparent crystal out to Rayne.

“Here,” she said, her voice a little breathless from the quick motion.

Rayne’s hand reached out to accept it, but as her gaze fell upon the orb in Naomi’s palm, her movement froze.

The crystal, which had been perfectly clear just moments before, now emitted an internal rose-gold glow, subtle yet undeniable. Its light illuminated the delicate lines of Naomi’s fingers, casting a faint, ethereal shimmer across the table.

Rayne slowly withdrew her hand, her galactic mirroring orbs widening in profound astonishment. Her jaw dropped as she glanced from the glowing orb to Naomi’s bewildered face, then back again, her expression a mix of disbelief and growing excitement.

The faint, internal light was a clear sign that something extraordinary had just happened… but what, she had no idea.

Rayne finally managed a faint, almost breathless chuckle, tinged with sheer disbelief. Her gaze fixed on Naomi, her eyes shining with sudden, intense curiosity.

“It… it glows,” she murmured, her voice low and marveling. She looked from the orb to Naomi, a new, urgent light in her eyes. “I… I’ve had this for ages. It’s never done that before. Not ever.”

She shook her head, a small, puzzled frown creasing her brow. “This is… incredible. I didn’t even know it could do anything.”

Naomi stared at the orb in her hand, then at the dragon before her. It pulsed with a soft, steady warmth against her skin.

What was she talking about? What was this orb? Why was a dragon so utterly surprised by it?

Her mind reeled with unasked questions, the orb’s glow stirring a confusion she hadn’t felt since her first off-world mission.