Yekase and Ivaris decided their wedding would be held on the sky island, like a pavilion moored in clouds.

Yekase hates hype and waste, so the guests are friends scattered across the map, like lanterns in distant towns. Ivaris has hardly any kin at all, which keeps things clean and light.

Besides the few comrades who live on the island, there’s Sandryon, Xiaoyuan, Chubu Risa, Shen Shanshan… farther out are the four from the Beast King Squadron, Mr. Burns, Aurora, Ain, Harrison, Richard, Labyrinth City, Selene…

So many people, like a flock of stars crossing a cold night.

Yekase spent one evening writing every invitation, then slid each into a scroll tube and sealed it with wax, little moons cooling in her palm. She tucked them in a spatial clasp. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing; after half a year of hustle and a body-first jump into a black hole, she wanted to catch up, to ride the wind and hand-deliver them.

No flying bed. They’d ride a staff.

“Feels more like a spring outing,” Yekase said, a breeze in her grin. “And I haven’t gone full throttle in ages.”

So, the day after setting the date, they launched from the Ambition Divine Ship. Near to far was the plan: Europe first, Siberia to Japan, then the United States, loop back over the Atlantic to Europe, a full circuit drawn like a kite string.

First stop, the nearest: Mr. Burns.

A portal, direct as an arrow—nothing to add.

Yekase swallowed the urge to ask how many alien friends he had, and delivered the scroll with a sunny face.

They lifted from the helipad and sketched a quick tour of Europe’s sky. Labyrinth City, New France, Arcadia—three darts thrown in one hour, three hands receiving three stacks of scrolls: Labyrinth City, Ain, Harrison.

On the map, they traced a clockwise spiral blooming outward, then banked toward a pale northeast sky—the fifth destination, Sidonia Dragon Fortress buried in Siberia’s ribs.

Half an hour later, through cold, glass-clear air, Aurora’s frozen steel toilet loomed on the horizon, stubborn as a glacier.

Two shadows rose from the toilet lid, swooping to meet them and crossing in midair: Ivan and Nina.

“You come from afar and… what’s the line again?”

“State your business, dummy!”

Yekase dug out two chunky malt candies like amber stones and pitched them into two fang-forested mouths, one red, one blue. “We’d like to see your lord. Could you grant us passage?”

“For what… how’s it said?”

“For what purpose, idiot!”

Nina’s scolding stacked up. Ivan scratched his head with a claw and shut up.

“We’re delivering wedding invitations.” Yekase lifted Aurora’s scroll and gave it a shake.

“Hunli qingtie?”

“It’s the thing that invites people to a wedding.”

“Mar—mar—marriage?!” Nina blanched. “We’re eight!”

“Not you two. Us.”

Ivaris didn’t know Yekase’s friends well, so she stood aside with a soft smile, watching the gag reel unfold.

The two fresh rookie dragons finally granted passage, led them down to the fortress roof, and were promptly swatted by Aurora’s claw. “Why’re you hassling my friends?”

She waved the other dragons away and shifted into human form, platinum hair pouring like river light as she came up to them.

“Come on. Reception room.”

Same reception room as before, a familiar hollow in stone. The wine on the wall racks had multiplied, like clusters ripening in shadow. Catching Yekase’s glance, Aurora plucked a bottle and handed it backhanded.

“No, no, we’ve still gotta fly to Japan.”

“Just water, wet your throat.”

Vodka is water here. Is this water too…

Aurora sat, cracked the scroll, and slid the invite free. “Next month, huh. I’ll be there. What do you want for a gift?”

“Anything. Or nothing.”

“Follow me.”

Ivaris didn’t come along. On the way, Yekase told the story of crossing the cosmos—like a comet chatting with a lake. The Slavic dragon listened with real interest, then asked, “Since you’ve got the mechanical dragon key, want to test for a Dragonization qualification?”

“No. I don’t plan on becoming nonhuman. The key—when my daughter comes of age, I’ll give it to her.”

She remembered Ling Yi under the sway of the “dragon” rune. With how often she uses Alchemy, even a trace of inhuman concept would surge like a tide and remake her whole body.

Aurora seemed reassured Yekase wouldn’t sneak off to turn into a dragon for fun. She dropped the cert talk and led her to a heavy double wooden door, thick as tree hearts, and pushed it open.

A medium library breathed within, twice a home study but a swallow’s nest inside a dragon fortress.

As Aurora drifted along the shelves, she asked lightly, “What’s her background?”

“Comrade from ten years ago. We fought aliens together.”

“Magical Girl battalion, then.”

“Mm.”

“Then it’s fine. She carries a faint old aura—hard to judge, but I trust your eye.”

An ancient aura?

Probably residue from the Causal Horizon and the Void.

Aurora finally found her target, slid it free, and handed it to Yekase.

A hard-cover tome, gold-stamped Russian title swirling like dragon calligraphy. Translated, it said—

Dragon Tongue for Dummies.

“This ‘dragon tongue’ means the near-lost rune-dragon speech. These days only dragon lords get to learn it. Unlike normal language, each word holds Sorcery—usable as magic without Celestial Speech.”

“Only dragon lords get the chance…”

Yekase’s hand felt hot on the book. “Is it really okay for me to learn? Don’t you care about the dragon race’s pure image?”

“Hahaha!”

Aurora laughed like a bell rolling down marble and shoved the book into her arms. “Cut the fake modesty, tovarishch! If you use dragon-tongue magic in public, it doesn’t gild your resume—it lifts the whole flock of us!”

…

They left Sidonia Dragon Fortress and kept riding the whim of a world tour, like two sparrows following a jet stream.

Next up, Japan. Crimson Field was a lost cause; Yekase handed two invites to Chubu Risa and asked her to reach the ronin.

Her tie with Chubu was mostly industrial, not quite a friendship. No extra small talk; they pushed on.

Ivaris held out her hand to Yekase. “Within Huaxia, Sandryon, Xiaoyuan, Shen Shanshan, and three from the Beast King Squadron—you can’t enter their airspace anyway. I’ll deliver them.”

“Okay.”

Yekase dug in the spatial clasp, found six scrolls, and handed them over like bundled reeds.

They split over Japan’s sky, one east, one west. Watching Yekase’s silhouette sink into the Pacific’s horizon line, Ivaris tipped the Polaris Staff north and flew toward Huaxia’s eastern coast, the famed Yangtze Delta glittering like scales.

All five were in Twin Towers City—heroes packed like pearls in a strand.

Xiaoyuan should be in some Twin Towers net café. But she’s often traveling to be a lab rat on contract; here or not, both normal. Better to let Sandryon pass it on.

Thinking buy-one-get-one, Ivaris headed straight for the shopping plaza where the Witch Workshop nested.

This plaza in Tianxin District—Yekase had visited it several times with Ling Yi and Ling Ya before leaving Huaxia. Ivaris had watched from the horizon; this was her first step inside.

She found the unremarkable curtain, lifted it, and stepped through.

Warm artificial light gilded her face. A Renaissance stone-brick alley opened up, with unmanned shops on both sides, all folded into a pocket big as a single storefront from outside—Twin Towers’ urban legend, the Witch Artisan’s Alley.

Yekase always teased Sandryon, but that’s just a master-and-apprentice spar. A six-hundred-year-old grand witch sits as a Grand Archmage and moves freely in Huaxia; her strength and depth outrank most like mountains outrank wheat.

Ivaris walked the alley and knocked on each door along the street.

Smithy, scrolls, tailor, bookhouse…

“Why are you looking for me, little witch of Silverfall Tree Court?”

—Ivaris snapped around.

On the smithy’s slanted red tiles sat a woman in a loose black robe. Her hair was wild and windborne, half-trapped under a pointed hat. She leaned against a stone chimney. Bare, clean white feet dangled from the eaves like ivory birds.

In her arms, a crooked iron staff and a half-read, open book.

…

The smithy is right by the entrance. When Ivaris passed, the roof was empty.

“You’ve got the wrong person. I’m ‘Ivaris of the East Asia Front.’”

“Picked that name passing through Machinework City, didn’t you?”

—How did she know?

Under the broad brim, Sandryon’s eyes flashed with a not-quite-human chill. It wasn’t the face Yekase had shown; it was pressure and authority, a weight like stone rain.

That gaze cut through a phase-differential bulwark and settled on the dome of events.

“Back to Twin Towers at this hour—what are you aiming for?”

“I’m here to deliver an invitation.”

“What kind of invitation?”

Ivaris flicked a Levitation Spell onto the scroll and tossed it to Sandryon.

The grand witch opened it and read, line by line. The ice in her face melted.

She slipped back into her usual lazy, gentle self, and smiled in apology.

“Living with flavor, that slacker. I know. I’ll show up with gifts.”

“And please pass Xiaoyuan’s invite along. I can’t find her.”

“She should be—”

“Then I’ll leave it to you, bye!”

In the blink of an eye, Ivaris was gone, leaving a scroll arcing up like a tossed leaf.

“You two really were carved from the same mold?!”