Lilith barely got any breakfast down; the girl beside Typhon moved like a leaf in wind, afraid the little Silver Dragon might decide to chew her.

Luckily, Typhon’s attention clung to the food; she didn’t notice the Little White Dragon’s odd state.

After the meal, Tartarus led Lilith and Typhon out. Typhon shook her head; the silver-white hatchling unfurled into a twenty-odd-meter giant, while the crimson giant sprawled beside her like a dawn-lit cliff. With a flick of her tail, the red dragon scooped Lilith onto her back.

The two great dragons lifted, riding the first ribbon of green morning wind, and flew toward the feet of Gaia.

“Wow, why is the wind green here?” Lilith grabbed a bony spine like a branch; she lifted her face and stared at the emerald breeze, wonder rippling like sunlight on water. She had never seen such a view; the little Saint squealed, and the dragon under her let out a warm chuckle.

“This is what wind really looks like. Child, you have a gift; Lirum will like you.” Tartarus spoke with a smile; joy chimed in her voice like bells. The little Hero couldn’t help asking, “Is her liking me a good thing?”

“Of course, my dear Little White Dragon. It’s a blessing when a mentor fancies you. Dragons are greedy by nature; we stash the best for the child we love most.” Tartarus seemed to blink, a spark under ash. “But what matters most isn’t who likes you. It’s who you like. You’re our Little White Dragon; no one could dislike you.”

“Mmm...” Lilith wasn’t used to such frank kindness; heat bloomed like peach petals on her cheeks, and she buried her face against the red dragon’s back in shy silence. Typhon burst out laughing, and Tartarus swatted her rump with a tail like a lash of fire.

They soon reached a huge green bauble at Gaia’s feet; the dragons’ taste in architecture was... unique, like ornaments hanging on a winter tree. The bauble nest always made Lilith think of her last life’s Christmas balls, a snowfall of memory. But thinking that felt rude to Gaia, her nominal father now, so she held the thought like a snowflake on the tongue and let it melt.

“Lirum, I’ve brought the Little White Dragon.” Tartarus landed at the bauble’s door and flowed into human form like lava turning to steel. It was Lilith’s first time seeing it; the crimson dragon became a tall woman who made Lilith look up like a sapling to a pine. Waves of fiery hair spilled over her shoulders; armor like dragon-scales gleamed under a long cloak, a queen’s storm and crown.

Lilith wanted to admire that beauty a little longer; pity, she was held like a daughter in Tartarus’s arms, perched on the red dragon’s forearm like a bird on a bough. She felt three years old again, cheeks scarlet, eyes skittering like minnows.

Typhon’s human shape was a silver-haired girl; if not for those violet gem eyes, she looked like an older, stretched version of Lilith, a mirror in moonlight. The Silver Dragon maiden hopped circles around her mother like a skipping stone, then beamed at the girl in the red dragon’s arms.

“Mom, Mom, let me hold Lilith!” Typhon reached up with both hands, joy bubbling like a spring. At that, Lilith grabbed Tartarus’s head like a lifesaver; she wasn’t about to get scooped by Typhon—who knew what storms waited in a Silver Dragon’s hug.

O_O

“Enough.” Tartarus tapped Typhon’s skull like knocking on wood, then set Lilith down and took her small hand, leading her inside as if through a grove. “Most mentors keep rare texts and tools. In their rooms, we move in human form.”

Lilith nodded; she couldn’t turn into a dragon anyway, so that rule fell like rain on a river.

“You’re here?” In the room’s center stood a green-haired girl, her looks no older than Lilith’s, a spring shoot with a staff of wood. She seemed to be casting on a plant, magic like dew on leaves. She stopped, turned, and her emerald eyes measured Lilith. “Hello, lovely Little White Dragon.”

“H-hello.” Lilith’s greeting was soft, like a bird under eaves; the aura of a teacher pressed down like storm weight. Was this what they called bloodline suppression?

“Mm-hmm. Did Tartarus introduce you? Or do you want me to do it myself?” Lirum teased, her tone like a breeze tugging a ribbon. She didn’t wait for the little Saint to answer; her words flowed on like water. “Forget it, I’ll do it. Nothing good ever comes out of Tartarus’s mouth.”

“You’re impossible. I’m right here,” Tartarus shot back, a spark in her gaze. She crouched to meet Lilith’s eyes; remorse softened her like ash over coals. “Sorry, Little White Dragon. I have to go. Typhon will take you to meet the mentors. I hate to leave you on such a big day.”

“Go on, go on. You’re the Dragon Empress, always buried in waves of chores, can’t even attend your daughter’s mentor-picking.” Lirum smiled as she needled, a thorn with a blossom. “Don’t worry. I’ll treat our Little White Dragon well.”

“It’s alright. Go handle it; I’ll be fine.” Lilith understood; a clan leader carried mountains, and a Saint with an adult mind didn’t need a chaperone at every step.

The red dragon nodded, brushed a kiss on Lilith’s forehead like a warm leaf, and left through the door. Heat flooded Lilith in a flash; she went tomato-red, head steaming like a kettle on the boil.

“Okay, forget her. Who knows what she’s busy with day after day, when half of it tumbles onto me.” Lirum rolled her eyes like turning a jade bead. She turned back, clapped in front of Lilith, and the flustered Saint came back to herself like a lake calming. “Come with me. I’ll show you the essence of nature and plants.”

“Remember this, young Little White Dragon. The heart of magic is resonance. Whatever road you take, your ceiling is set by how you resonate with all things.” Lirum lifted her right hand; a thick vine writhed up like a green serpent, laid a great seed in her palm. “Taste it. My gift to you.”

Lilith took the fruit obediently, like catching a falling star, and bit down. The emerald flesh was crisp and sweet, juice bursting like spring rain. One bite became two; in a few breaths, the whole fruit was gone into her belly.

“Good? That’s a fruit condensed from pure wind.” Lirum smiled, sunlight through leaves. Lilith’s eyes blew wide in panic like a startled fawn. “Don’t be afraid. Pure elemental energy won’t harm you. If you choose me, your first lesson is drawing clean wind from air. You can use a wand to help.”

Lirum snapped her fingers; a heavy wall of earth rose from the floor like a cliff from sea. The green earth-dragon murmured to the soil; the wall opened two mouths and spat out a massive book.

“Remember, everything in this world has its own soul. Every earth dragon must learn to revere nature. Only when you hold awe for every living thing will they answer your call.” Lirum took the book, fished two colorless stones from her pocket, and tossed them into the gaping wall. The wall gulped, chewed with satisfaction like a cow, then slid back underground. “See? All things have spirit.”

“Wow.” Lilith was stunned speechless; a minute ago she’d have sworn no earth could eat. Her worldview cracked like ice on a pond. “What did you feed it?”

“Stones shaped from my mana. A dragon’s mana is a tonic to the world; a fitting gift tightens our bond with other beings.” Lirum explained as a ring of green wind twined by her ear like a playful wisp. The dragon tapped the little green sprite, and a huge emerald gem fell into her palm like a drop of frozen dawn. “Some people are born nature’s darlings. Then nature itself offers the first hand. Like you, my dear Little White Dragon.”

“This gem is compacted from a wind spirit’s core power. With it, you can handle wind by instinct; not too much, but you’ll fly faster, like a swallow on a tailwind. It’s nature’s gift, so keep it safe.” Lirum hung the gem at Lilith’s chest and straightened her collar like smoothing petals. “I’m jealous of children favored by nature; forging a gem this pure would cost me sweat and seasons. If you choose to be my disciple, I’ll be delighted. But don’t worry; I’ll wait till you’ve met every mentor before I start fighting for you.”

“Alright, you can go see Poseidon. Want me to take you?” Lirum walked them to the door, her smile like spring. Lilith shook her head; she didn’t want to trouble a possible future teacher.

“Let’s go. Climb up. Aunt Poseidon lives around the leg area; if I carry you, it’s a long flight.” Typhon urged, wings trembling like leaves before a gust.

“Mm. Then, Teacher Lirum, see you next time.” Lilith climbed onto Typhon’s back, looked over her shoulder at the green dragon, and waved like a willow frond. Strictly speaking, Lirum wasn’t her teacher yet, but the bond felt seeded.

“Goodbye, dear Little White Dragon. But don’t call me teacher, or the others will get jealous.” Lirum leaned on the doorframe and waved, then blew a kiss like a petal on the wind.

“Oh! Takeoff!” Typhon laughed, kicked with four paws, and shot from Lirum’s doorway like an arrow. Lilith clutched tighter; a Silver Dragon lacked the Red’s proud spines, so there wasn’t much to hold.

Three minutes after parting from Tartarus, I missed her already, like a moon missing its tide.