The Dragon Heir

Chapter 128: SQUEE!

Once again, I felt the thread —and I was back in the water tunnel.Still water. Still silence.

But now, I was seeing it in a different light.

One time? Could’ve been some universe magic fuckery.

Twice? Yeah, was up with this place.

Not just the tunnel itself, but the whole of how I’d been entering the dreamscape lately.

And it all started after Lotte gave me that strange incantation.

Coincidence?

Something was up, and I’d bet my scaly ass Lotte knew exactly what.

But all I could do was She was generous with answers.

For now, I just stared at the twelve sections of this strange water tunnel—specifically, the two that stood out.

Two times now, I’d been pulled into someone else’s world.

The first time, through that girl’s pendant, when I’d her to yank her out of danger.

The second, through a mirror artifact supposedly meant for ‘spiritual guidance.’

And now that I was looking closer… these two sections were than the others.

I narrowed my eyes.

I held my claw over the section that connected me to my twin. Just like before, a tendril of dark ink from the water, waiting——for permission.

This time, I rejected it.

Then, I turned to the second light section and did the same.

Once again, a tendril of ink shot up, waiting for my response.

Weird.

I tried the same thing over the sections. Nothing.

So… the two lightened parts were linked somehow. Had them set up some sort of connection?

If so, I had no idea it let me do yet. And right now? I wasn’t in the mood to experiment.

Nor did I have time.

I moved toward the far side of the tunnel—where I always emerged into my dream proper.

Ahh…

The wind rolled over the grassy hillside, rippling through golden stalks, and there—lounging in her usual spot—was Lotte.

This time, I wait for her greeting.

“”

Her velvety chuckle in my head. “And deprive you of revelry, dearest Jade?”

I scowled. “You need to revise your definition of ‘revelry,’ Lotte. Because ? Not my idea of a good time!”

She waved a lazy claw. "Just a benignly curious emissary from the Abyss’ depths."

She said it like it was

Abyss, huh?

Now that I thought about it, that strange I’d felt from the thing made .herworld and Hell—was one of the most planes contained by Parda.

Meaning… I hadn’t just brushed against some pocket dimension this time.

I’d breached the of the Abyss itself.

Oh,

Even time, when I’d breached the Netherworld, divinators had picked up on it.

I quickly relayed I did to mask my traces, how Alice had cleansed the divination remnants afterward.

Because if got noticed?

I’d have more than just divinators on my tail.

“Alice? Have you deigned to christen that doll already?”

And yeah, I wasn’t about to call her just ‘doll.’ She’s way too sentient for that.”

Lotte hummed. "Should that doll bear responsibility for sanitizing the locus, I withhold objection."

That lifted a weight off my chest. I’d been that breaching Parda had left some trace behind—something that divination could latch onto and track

But if it got seal of approval?

Big dragon I could rest easy.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

But.

"What about Belle? I have no idea how her being my supplicant is related to some Abyss creature dropping in and donating its eyeball in exchange for my blood."

Lotte chuckled. “She your supplicant now. And you gift her something—your affinity to dark mana.”

That made me pause. "And the Abyss?"

Lotte’s smirk deepened. "The Abyss incarnates darkness perfected—its denizens corporeal manifestations of darkness’ absolute concept."

Oh, this was

"Concept of darkness?"

“Freedom. The severing of shackles—whether of flesh, fate, or circumstance. That creature granting Belle a fragment of itself? It signifies that she, too, now embodies that principle.”

That was… enlightening.

Darkness wasn’t just about shadows and hexes. It was

"So… I had to endure those agonizing lightning tribulations for a month to resonate with the concept of lightning—" I shot her a glare. "—but Belle just gets darkness’ as a freebie?”

"One might phrase it thus."

I scoffed. "Why no shortcut for ?"

"For you are forged in crucibles, not cradles."

I narrowed my eyes. There was a deeper reason, but Lotte wasn’t keen on telling me.

Fine. Whatever. I could let it go—for now.

Instead, I focused on the question.

"So… all I saw was her emerging from that flesh chrysalis with a mop and a stupid apron. I’m still struggling to understand how relates to her resonating with the concept of darkness."

Lotte let out a thoughtful hum. "A mop and an apron… fascinating. That outcome was wholly determined by the choices your supplicant embraced when presented with possibilities."

"Wait—so the system was involved?"

"Undoubtedly. Consider it akin to the Class systems of mortals—you’ve witnessed such designations when dispatching them, have you not?"

Oh yeah. "They were almost always dual-classed. Warriors, mages, arcanists, crafters… So Belle made a similar class choice?"

"Indisputably. A path aligned with Darkness that incarnates the essence of Freedom."

That sent a chill down my spine.

"So… her system changed? It's not the same evolution system I——have?"

Lotte nodded. "Self-evidently. Her nature now intertwines with the Abyss’ denizens."

My claws clenched.

"Do you think she’s still the same Belle I knew?"

Lotte just smiled, warm and knowing. "Would you truly believe me imprudent enough to permit foreign essences to supplant your supplicant’s core?"

I hesitated. "No, but…"

"She remains your Belle. Though her primal drives may sharpen… and her hunger for Freedom intensify."

My tail flicked. "What kind of freedom?"

"Concepts are multifaceted. Liberation may wear one face for a scholar, another for a slave. Some ideals flow like rivers, others stand as monoliths. All turns on what your supplicant recognized as pure emancipation."

"Interpretation, huh?" I paused. "So… any idea what kind of abilities she has now?"

Lotte smirked. "Pose that query to the architect herself. The crucible of choice was hers alone."

Fair. Yet I’d pried more truths from her today than a starved scribe at a library. My eyes narrowed. Normally, extracting intel from Lotte required the patience of a glacier and the cunning of a fox-king. Cryptic hints, smoke-mirror philosophizing—until my curiosity shriveled like a sun-baked worm.

But today?

No labyrinthine riddles. No answers half-swallowed like bitter pills.

Either the stars aligned… or she’d sipped some generosity with her morning tea.

I’d count scales later.

"Anyway," I continued, "I used that weird water tunnel again. Different section this time. But I possess anyone. This time, it was a mirror—supposed to give spiritual guidance instead of a pendant."

Lotte hummed. "Hoh. Seems like you had quite the adventure today."

"Not really. I was only there for a few minutes. Because I was unprepared for what I saw."

"Oh?"

I exhaled. "I… came across my supposed doppelgänger today."

Silence. Then, Lotte chuckled. “Ah, Fate’s shuttle weaves curious tapestries! And your debut upon the loom?”

I grimaced. "Well… A botched embroidery, perhaps. She thought I was some kind of dragon ancestor, which sounds suspiciously like So I… feathered my frills with fraudulent grandeur."

"Impersonating ancestors now?" Her mirth rippled through the dreamscape. "How very… of you."

"Necessity breeds charlatans," I muttered. "Seemed wiser than shouting, ‘Surprise! I’m your existential echo!’"

"And did your borrowed majesty convince her?"

I almost laughed. "Didn’t even need to try—she was already groveling. Apparently, they what dragons are. My guess that dragons were the ancestors the Drakkari mention was spot on."

I paused. "It appears they’re aware of our existence."

"Interesting."

For the next few minutes, I told her about the underlying concept of Fire mana. Just a vague guess that it might help my doppelgänger. Because if I had understood the of Lightning when I started, maybe things would’ve been easier for me, too.

All the while, I subtly tried to steer the conversation toward that water tunnel, hoping for even a scrap of information. But, as expected, she stayed tight-lipped. Eventually, I had to give up.

Still, I’d learned enough.

That reminded me—Viera’s upcoming birthday. And that Saryn girl, Sasha.

So much had happened, I almost let it slip my mind.

Viera’s dimensional resonance was , and I had my suspicions about that ball being thrown in her honor. I sniffed puppetstrings beneath the perfume.

Now Belle’s metamorphosis tangled the weave further.

Could my claws not brush a single thread without unraveling ten?

“Such is the loom’s nature,” Lotte crooned. “Every step knots new patterns.”

I studied my talons. “It’s not the knots… it’s the fraying grip on the …spindle.”

“Why grasp the whirlwind?”

I scoffed. “To cage the chaos before it cages . Weren’t the one hissing about treading glass-winged? How does surrendering to the storm serve that?”

Lotte’s laugh was a zephyr through willow leaves. “Consequences aren’t cages, my little hatchling—they’re currents. Why wrestle the tide when you might… it?”

A spectral gust plucked amber leaves into a dance around us.

She tilted her muzzle skyward. “Storms scorn commands… but oh, how they to clever sails.”

The leaves spiraled, painting helix trails in the air.

“A leaf cannot still the gale,” she murmured. “But watch how it .”

***

The familiar grogginess of waking dissolved instantly as my eyes snapped open—only to lock onto something . Wait—

Perched at the foot of my bed loomed a pale, shimmering figure. A woman—or the ghost of one—her back to me, draped in a white gown that rippled as if caught in a breeze I couldn’t feel. Silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, glinting faintly. Then, as though sensing my stare, she shifted. The strands of hair swayed. Her head began to turn—

And.

A badger’s snout. Beady eyes. I scrambled backward, nearly toppling off the mattress.

“BELLE?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

The badger-faced woman pivoted fully, answering with another volley of those high-pitched happy squees, paws gesturing frantically for me to look.

Alice stood in the corner, calmly adjusting a hand mirror’s angle.

What fresh madness was this? Where was my biscuit-obsessed Belle? The maid uniform clinging to her fur was absurdly ornate—lace trim, ribbons—but she’d kept the same damned apron, pockets bulging with polishing cloths and… was that a tiny feather duster?

She winked out of existence.

Gone. My frown deepened when my air-sense found nothing—no ripple, no trace.

Movement flickered in the distant mirror. Belle waved from its surface, wild grin stretching her striped muzzle. Then she vanished again, materializing in the window’s reflection, then the vanity’s, darting between every reflective surface we’d hung.

“She navigates through reflections now, mistress,” Alice remarked, voice clinical. “Quite remarkable.”

One final , and Belle disappeared entirely. I froze, breath held—until a gleam snagged my attention. Not in a mirror. Not in glass.

There, in the pupils of my own wide-eyed reflection: a tiny, triumphant badger face, staring back.