While tension continued rising in Drakar’s palace, something shifted far away for Draen.
During a formal briefing with the Vanguard Order, Draen suddenly stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence.
His knights in the room immediately noticed the change but none of them dared to interrupt.
Draen’s expression slowly darkened as he felt it.
The bond.
This time, it felt different.
Instead of weakening due to distance, the connection with Lewis suddenly became clearer and stronger, as if it had been pulled tighter from the other side.
It felt less like separation and more like Lewis was instinctively reaching out, calling for him without words.
Draen’s attention fully focused inward.
Through the bond, he could sense his pain, instability and a growing sense of distress that seemed like didn’t belong to him.
Each passing second made it more obvious that something was seriously wrong.
Even though Lewis was far away, the connection made everything feel immediate, as if he were right beside him, silently crying out for help.
Draen’s calm presence shifted for the first time.
Without saying a word, he straightened and ended the briefing on the spot.
The pressure of his aura disappeared from the room instantly, leaving behind stunned silence among the officials.
Because in that moment, Draen no longer needed an explanation.
Something had happened to Lewis and it was urgent.
“Change of plans. I will go alone.”
Draen’s voice fell like a blade through the hall with absolute authority.
The moment the words left him, the entire briefing room seemed to tighten.
Even the seasoned officers of the Vanguard Order instinctively straightened, sensing that something fundamental in the atmosphere had shifted.
However, Alon stepped forward immediately.
“Your Grace,” he said firmly, “that is too dangerous. I cannot allow you to proceed alone.”
For a fraction of a second, Draen did not respond.
Then he turned.
The movement was slow but the pressure behind it was suffocating.
His gaze locked onto Alon with a sharpness that made even the air feel heavier.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Alon’s expression remained steady but his posture stiffened slightly.
He had served Draen long enough to know his temper yet this was different.
The usual calm control in Draen’s authority was gone, replaced by something more direct and unstable.
“Know your place,” Draen added colder tone now.
Then, silence followed.
It was not loud but it was absolute.
For the first time, Alon’s eyes widened slightly.
Not in fear exactly but in recognition.
Draen had never spoken to him like that before.
Not once in all the years of service, not even in moments of war or crisis.
Behind them, the Vanguard Order officers exchanged uneasy looks.
Some lowered their gaze, while others swallowed nervously and took a small step back.
No one dared to speak or interrupt.
They only stood there, feeling the heavy mana filling the entire room.
The weight of Draen’s presence filled the hall completely, pressing down like an invisible force.
But then,
Alon exhaled slowly.
He lowered his head in respect but his voice remained carefully composed when he spoke again.
“Your Grace… please do not let emotion guide your decision,” he said gently, choosing his words with precision.
“Your safety is what matters most.”
A brief pause.
Then, deliberately, “His Grace… your bride would not want you to act recklessly either.”
At that word, bride, the air shifted.
Alon continued, carefully steering the thought deeper.
“You remember, do you not?” he added.
“He is afraid of blood. He is sensitive to violence… and your condition. If you were to be injured or unstable, it would only worsen his reaction.”
For a moment, something flickered in Draen’s expression.
Not softness or relief but focus.
It pulsed again, faintly now but unmistakably.
Something else beneath it that made his expression tighten slightly, as if he were hearing something no one else in the room could.
Then, Draen’s hand curled subtly at his side.
The pressure in the room did not disappear but it shifted, becoming more controlled and contained.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Draen turned his gaze away.
“…Prepare the fastest route,” he said at last with calm but now dangerously focused.
At that order, Draen wasted no more time.
He stepped outside with the Vanguard Order, not sparing another word and in the next breath, his body began to shift.
The air itself seemed to tremble as he transformed scale by scale, bone by bone until the dukedom shook as if an earthquake had been born beneath its foundations.
When the transformation finished, he was no longer a man.
He had become a massive dragon that easily overshadowed the surrounding halls.
His body was covered in shining white scales with hints of blue, glowing like frozen lightning as it moved across him.
Massive, unyielding and unmistakably ancient.
His presence alone pressed down on everything beneath him.
As a dragon compatible with all elements, the very forces of nature bent subtly around him, as if unsure which one he truly belonged to.
He turned his head toward the Order with eyes sharp with command.
“Do what you’re good at once you arrive in that damn palace,” he said coldly.
“I won’t tolerate mistakes especially from you.” His gaze lingered pointedly on Edrik.
Then he continued with a low voice but no less absolute.
“Once this is over, I’ll deal with your punishment myself. I’m going first. Alon, you’re in charge of the dukedom until I return.”
“As you command, Your Grace,” Alon replied at once while bowing his head.
“Please fly safely… and return to us.”
Draen did not respond with words.
Instead, his wings spread massively, blinding in their white-blue sheen and with a single beat, the sky itself seemed to fracture under his shadow as he launched forward, leaving only the echo of power behind him.
“Lewis, my bride. Please wait for me. I’m coming…”
While Draen raced toward Drakar’s hideout, Lewis was already naked beneath him, breathless and pinned beneath Drakar’s powerful body.