“Alright, my dear child, it’s just the two of us now.” Lilith cried where she stood, tears pooling like a small spring until silence swallowed the sound.

When the Little White Dragon tired herself out, the great dragon lifted her with a ripple of tail like a curling river, settled her on that broad back like a cliff, and said, “Come. I’ll take you to your new home. Trust me, the Dragon Territory is a lot more fun than that human capital.”

“Oh!” Lilith yelped, heart jumping like a startled sparrow. She grabbed for the raised bone spines along the dragon’s back, clinging like a koala so she wouldn’t tumble off. “Hey, at least humans have decent transport! They don’t make passengers hug a slick spine and hope for the best!”

“Child, to my knowledge, humans haven’t conquered this wide sky yet.” The dragon chuckled, a warm sound from a mountain-sized body that felt like a hearth under snow. Magic, surely. “The land above the peaks has always been the realm of wyverns. When did humans start trespassing there?”

Annoyance flared bright and sharp in Lilith’s chest. “Give it a few centuries!” she snapped, and the small tail behind her—thin as a ribbon—swished and thumped at the great dragon’s scales. The blow was a raindrop on stone; the dragon didn’t even notice she’d tried to smack her.

Heat pricked behind her eyes. Lilith pressed her lips together and refused to speak to the massive beast beneath her.

“Heh. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.” The dragon spoke to the girl on her back, a smile in her voice. Lilith nodded reflexively, whether the dragon could see or not. A soft breath puffed from those vast nostrils, then: “I’m the queen of dragonkind, one of the oldest beings in the world. I’m the original Red Dragon, mother of all dragons. You may call me the Dragon God as the others do, though I allow you my name. I am Tartarus, and I stand for flame and death.”

“W-wow.” Awe rolled through Lilith like a cold wave. She’d known the queen of dragons wouldn’t be simple, but Tartarus still towered past anything she’d imagined. Dragons are long-lived; as their mother, how many ages had she endured?

A prickle of guilt rose. “Child, your thoughts are a touch rude. I’ll forgive you, since you’re an ignorant Little White Dragon.” Tartarus saw through her like starlight through mist. Lilith tightened her hold on the bone spine, barely daring to breathe. If Tartarus tossed her, she probably wouldn’t die—but climbing back up would be a nightmare.

Curiosity tugged at her like wind on a banner. Tartarus spread those vast wings and said, gentle as dusk, “You must have many questions. Our journey is long. We have time to soothe your doubts.” She lifted her gaze to the sky. “Time to go, my dear Little White Dragon. Hold tight to my spines.”

The mountain-red dragon beat wings broader than a wide prairie. Whoosh. Air lifted the colossal body toward the deep, bright dome of the heavens. Wind shredded against scales, and the gale turned Lilith into a flimsy white flag on a pirate mast; she clung with all her strength to keep from being peeled loose.

Soon they punched through the thick cloud layer above. A dense wash of cool mist slapped her face, like crashing through lake-water. The next heartbeat, she was a fish plucked from a pond—she shook her dripping head and blinked her eyes open.

They were above the clouds.

A red colossus carried a white-clad girl through the sky. Cotton-candy clouds muffled the bleak land below. Everywhere she looked, it was endless sapphire heaven and cloud so soft it felt more tender than a dream.

“Hey, child. This is the view a dragon should know.” Tartarus’s voice was warm sunlight on frost, even with a ribbon of laughter in it. “Humans chain their eyes to the ground. Don’t you find that ridiculous?” Her words were barbed, yet they didn’t invite anger; they fell like feathers instead of arrows. “The human king is my friend. He’s always complaining that one noble fought another over a piece of stone. I always find them absurd. What do you think, Little White Dragon?”

“Uh—a stone? What stone?” Lilith blinked, brows knitting. Surely human nobles weren’t that dumb.

“Called a diamond, I think? About the size of my claw-tip. It’s not even gold that actually shines. No idea why they keep fighting over it.” Tartarus lifted her foreclaw to show the size, and the sweep of that motion kicked up a gust that almost blew Lilith clean off. The White Holy Maiden squeaked and begged her to lower the paw and fly straight. Tartarus, looking vaguely wronged, set it down.

Embarrassment and reason wrestled in Lilith’s chest. “Uh, that’s pretty precious to humans.” She didn’t know this world’s trade systems well, but from a former life’s memory, a diamond the size of Tartarus’s claw-tip was more than price—it was legend. Wars would bloom for such a jewel. And in a medieval setup, kings rarely muzzled their feudal lords.

“Is it? Fafnir picked up a few of those stones before. I should’ve had him keep some to gift the little king. Shame.” Tartarus dipped her head, genuinely regretful. Lilith sat quiet on her back. She’d thought dragons would be prickly and hard to deal with, yet they seemed almost too straightforward.

“Enough about the king. Let’s talk about you, Little White Dragon. What do you want to ask?” Tartarus steered the conversation back. The White Holy Maiden flicked her tail like a timid ribbon and said, “Do you know why I became like this?”

A hush settled like snow. “Hm… let me think. In truth, your situation has never appeared in dragon history.” Tartarus’s tone turned thoughtful, like a scholar paging through moonlit books. “The dragon clan keeps a record of all members. Not a family tree—more a star map. Every dragon is a star in the sky. When a star lights, a newborn hatchling appears in the world. When a star goes dark, a dragon returns to the earth’s embrace. Yesterday, Astraeus checked the star map and found our clan had a new member. That was you.” She gazed up into the blazing day, as if seeking a hidden spark behind sunlight. “Twenty-fifth down from the far right, tucked right beside Typhon. You’re the first new life in twenty years, child. When we learned it, the whole clan cheered for you.”

Shyness blossomed warm and pink on Lilith’s cheeks. The idea of an entire clan cheering for her felt like fireworks too big for her small hands. She smiled stupidly, the kind of face that begged to be pinched—if only Tartarus could reach.

“You don’t understand how precious a newborn is to dragons.” Tartarus’s voice softened like velvet. “We grow slowly. Even that little Typhon took nearly thirty years to crack her shell. Thirty years without a newborn isn’t strange. And, my dear child, you aren’t just a newborn. You’re a White Dragon. A White Dragon is the Dragon God’s blessing. Her birth heralds a hundred-year tide of good fortune for the clan. You’re our lucky star.”

“Dragons divide into five types, each with its own nature and gifts. Red Dragons are the most numerous. We have powerful bodies and keen spines; we breathe searing flame and wield fire magic. Every Red Dragon is a miser born of gold, with wealth to rival other races.”

“Earth Dragons are the second most common. They rise from soil and forest, their rock-like hides carpeted with thick moss. Their defense is ironwood and stone—neither a Red Dragon’s blaze nor a Silver Dragon’s frost can scar them. Land and leaf are their servants; any Earth Dragon can call root and ground to fight at her side.”

“Water Dragons form another pillar of the clan. They’re born of rivers and seas, with fish-blue scales and smooth, sleek bodies. Their vitality is a spring that won’t run dry—even beheading won’t end them. The price is hunger: their stomachs are bottomless wells, and they must keep devouring.”

“Black Dragons are rare. They walk in shadow and ruin. Pure violence and destruction are their names. They have the strongest bodies among dragons—their sharp claws can tear even an Earth Dragon’s thick hide. Their hard scales have yet to be split by any creature but another Black Dragon. Magic spurns their Taint, but flesh alone grants them fearsome might.”

“Silver Dragons stand opposite the Black. They’re children of wisdom and magic. Starlight pours into the world as wandering Silver Dragons. Their bodies are fragile enough that a partner’s weight can be too much—I remember a Silver Dragon paired with a Black Dragon who nearly died under her lover. She survived by shifting into human form. Yet every Silver Dragon is magic’s favored child. Even a newborn, after a few days of training, can become a mage that even demon lords in the Demon Realm admire. With magic walks their sharp eye for the stars; they read the constellations and glimpse the path ahead.”

“And you, my dear Little White Dragon, are unlike any other. Only one White Dragon appears in a hundred years. She’s the Dragon God’s blessing made flesh, the pure form of luck. A White Dragon’s body is more fragile than a Silver’s—even a human can beat her in a fight. But every White Dragon awakens a unique power, a trait terrible enough to change the world. We don’t yet know yours, but it will be frightening.”

Lilith’s mind stalled like a cart stuck in deep mud. The last time she’d faced this much new knowledge was cramming for finals in her old life, when review at least covered lessons she’d learned before. This was a river of alien facts poured straight into her skull.

Relief steadied her like a hand at her back. She had a system. Fan Yu had set it up the moment they entered this world: it would process foreign information and translate it for her in simple terms. Understanding wouldn’t be a problem.

Curiosity flickered like a candle. “What powers did the previous White Dragons have?”

“The first White Dragon governed time itself. She could stop, accelerate, erase, rewind, even add time—no limits. A maker of worlds. She got bored and died of ordinary old age.”

“The second ruled space. She could create and erase space at will, spun countless worlds of her own, and is probably hopping through her pocket realms for fun.”

“The third held life. She could grant life to any thing. Raising the dead was a nod for her, not a labor.”

“The fourth wielded word-sorcery—speak and it becomes. Anything she said turned true. She stopped liking to talk.”

“Got it. So every White Dragon awakens a wildly powerful ability, right?” Lilith cut in, excitement sparking like flint. The role was clear: a once-in-a-century cheat code with broken stats. She’d lucked out. At last, the isekai power-trip script she’d waited for arrived—after three years of fighting the Demon King, no less.

“That’s right. Almost no cost. The White Dragon is the Dragon God’s darling—ah, we’re here.” Tartarus broke off mid-sentence, delight brightening her voice like sunrise. She surged toward the curtain of cloud, wings beating faster.

The sudden acceleration jolted Lilith. Her grip slipped, and she slid right off Tartarus’s back.

Startled, the little Saint snatched at Tartarus’s slick scales, and with all her strength dragged herself back onto the great dragon.

“What are you freaking out for? I’m still—” Lilith’s gripe snagged in her throat as a sight hit like a bell in her ribs—one you never forget.

Through layered mist, rainbow-scaled drakes launched from a blank-white earth, then dipped back to land below the cloud-line.

Mountains of strange shapes punched through the cloud sea, spears pointing at a bright sun hung over the vault of heaven.

Colorful orbs were strung along those pale peaks; now and then a few drakes burst from them like chicks breaking from eggs.

A hulking dragon looked tiny against those august heights, an ant at a cliff’s face.

Lilith felt even Tartarus had shrunk to a speck of dust, a mote in sunlight.

The little Saint let her gaze climb along the peak.

She passed a living quarter draped with white spheres painted in many colors.

She passed a fighting ground where two pitch-black dragons sometimes tore at each other’s wings.

She passed the upper tier, where tall towers and stately palaces shouldered the sky.

Upward, and upward—the eye a kite tugged by wind—she set her sight free.

At last she glimpsed the summit: a colossal dragon’s head, stripped to bone.

In those empty sockets stood two giant panes of glass, trained on the sun-washed sky, as if charting the changing heavens.

Only then did Lilith catch the fearsome truth.

Before her lay a remnant—a dragon’s remains.