The air in Tiamat’s lair tasted of salt and ancient stone, warmed by the deep, patient heat of the earth. She watched me, her massive head tilted, her crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dim light of the cavern. The scales around them were like polished obsidian, each one the size of a shield. "Are you trying to kill me?" she asked. Her voice was perfectly calm, a low rumble that echoed slightly off the vaulted stone ceiling. I blinked, the question so far from my intentions that it took a moment to register. "What?" Chapters fırst released on 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝘯𝘦𝘵 "I know my training methods were harsh," she continued, her tone as dry as dust. "But they worked, did they not? So I must ask why you are now attempting to end my life." "I’m not trying to kill you," I said, holding my hands up in a gesture of peace. Far away, a quiet anchor in my mind, I could feel the faint, steady warmth of Luna’s bond. "Aren’t you?" Tiamat tilted her head the other way, a motion that shifted shadows the size of buildings. "Then why did you ask to ’train together’?" "To get stronger," I answered. It was the simple truth. After passing the Gates in the tower, I had settled into the High Radiant-rank. Sword Accord was no longer a fleeting miracle but a state I could access, a quiet agreement between my blade and the world. My power felt different—cleaner, sharper, heavier. I needed to reshape my fighting style to match the man I was now, not the boy I had been just weeks ago. Tiamat let out a long, slow sigh, a sound like stone grinding on stone, and turned her massive head away. The light of her lair slid across the ancient, faded banners that hung from the cavern walls, telling stories of forgotten wars and fallen empires. When she looked back at me, her expression was profoundly serious. "Arthur, the nature of your power has changed," she said, her voice gentle but absolute. "A spar between us is no longer a lesson. It is a gamble with my life. In my current state, I cannot safely contain you." I started to protest, the words forming out of habit. "That’s not true—" "It is," she interrupted, her gaze unwavering. "As you are right now, one mistake from you, one uncontrolled surge of the Accord you’ve found, and I would be a smear on the floor of my own home. If you truly push yourself the way you need to—if you reach for the next level of your art—you will either kill me by accident or tear a hole in me that would take a century to heal." I had no answer for that. A cold knot formed in my stomach. It felt like yesterday that just ten percent of her power was an overwhelming force, a mountain I couldn’t even imagine climbing. The memory of her pinning me with a single claw, of her voice shaking the very foundations of her lair, was still sharp and clear. Had I really come that far? "If I were at my peak," she added, a corner of her mouth twitching into a wry, draconic smile, "I could still throw you around this room like a child’s toy until you learned your lesson. But I am not at my peak. And you are no longer a child." She let the silence sit between us for a moment, then tapped a long, black claw against a stone railing. "You need a partner who can absorb your mistakes without breaking. Someone whose foundation is absolute. You have one option that isn’t suicidally reckless for both of you. Alice." "My mother," I said. The words felt strange, like a name from a book I’d only read once. Tiamat nodded. "Your relationship is... complicated. I know. But she is the only person on this planet I am certain can safely neutralize you at this level. She is stronger than I am right now." A short, humorless laugh, like rocks tumbling, escaped her. "Honestly, she is stronger than most versions of me, peak or not." "Even after my breakthrough?" I asked, the question feeling foolish as soon as I said it. "Especially now," she confirmed. "If you fight her perfectly, using everything you have learned, you might manage a few even exchanges. But she will always be the one setting the pace. More importantly, she can help you refine your Gifts without you accidentally leveling a mountain range. As for your sword..." She lifted a scaled shoulder in a shrug that could have caused a landslide. "You are reaching for something only you can unlock. She can keep you grounded while you do it." I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The disappointment of not being able to train with Tiamat was a sharp sting, but it was overshadowed by a profound respect for her wisdom and honesty. Of course it had to be her. The person who taught me the rules is the only one who can keep me from breaking them. "I understand," I said. The hardness in Tiamat’s eyes softened. "Good. You came here asking for a fight. What you truly need is a wall that doesn’t move. Go find the woman who builds them." I left the deep, volcanic heat of the Southern ridgeline and stepped into the cool, clean air of an Avalon transit station. The journey back to the penthouse was quiet, giving me time to process. You are too strong now. It was a strange and deeply unsettling problem to have. For my entire life, I had been fighting up, struggling against opponents who were bigger, stronger, more experienced. Now, the greatest danger was my own lack of control. Walking through the bustling station, I found myself moving more carefully, consciously holding my power in, terrified that a careless gesture might have unintended consequences. The world suddenly felt more fragile. I thought of my mother. Not the fragmented ghost from my childhood, but Alice. The woman who had returned to my life and, instead of offering easy comfort, had offered structure. Her lessons were quiet phrases that felt like laws of nature: Choose boring first. Boring builds. The law isn’t a hammer; it’s a promise. By the time the elevator doors opened to our floor, I knew what I had to do. This wasn’t a son asking his mother for help. This was a student seeking a master for a very specific, very dangerous lesson. The penthouse was quiet. The lights were dimmed for the evening, and the faint, pleasant scent of Reika’s scones still lingered in the air. I found Alice on the main balcony, looking out at the city lights that glittered below like a fallen constellation. She wore simple sleep clothes and held a steaming mug, her presence as calm and steady as the stone railing she leaned against. She didn’t turn as I approached. I stood beside her, looking out at the same view. I didn’t know how to start with small talk, so I didn’t try. "I went to see Tiamat," I said into the cool night air. Alice took a slow sip of her tea. "And?" "I asked her to train with me," I said. "She said no. She said if I made a mistake, I would kill her." Alice finally turned her head, her gaze meeting mine in the soft light from the living room. Her eyes weren’t filled with motherly concern, but with the clear, assessing focus of a master craftsman looking at a powerful but untamed tool. "Tiamat is wise," she said simply. "Your control has not yet caught up to your power." "She said you could help," I went on, my voice steady. "She said you’re the only one strong enough to be my partner. A wall that won’t move." Alice set her mug down on the railing, the ceramic making a soft, deliberate click against the stone. She studied my face for a long moment, reading everything I wasn’t saying—the frustration, the fear, the reluctant necessity of my being here. Then, she gave a single, decisive nod. "Tiamat is a force of nature. I am an architect," Alice said, her voice as calm as the night. "You don’t need another storm to teach you how to control a storm. You need a foundation that will not yield. She is correct." She turned back to the glittering city. "Your foundation is strong, but the structure you’ve built on top of it is unstable. We will fix that." The simple finality of her words was both a comfort and a terror. "The lessons start tomorrow," she said. "Meet me here, at dawn. We will begin with a single line."