“So… where is this?”

A flimsy paper wing was pinned to Lilith’s back by the Black Dragon girl, a slap of brown corrugated board smeared white. Ugly alone, yet cute on the Little White Dragon. Cradled in a side carry, Lilith was flown out of the Dragon Territory, the adult Black Dragon—Nidhogg—unfurling human-form wings like night sails. She held Lilith flat in her arms and, in a few breaths, set down at a cave mouth.

Feet on stone, the Little White Dragon scrambled free on hands and knees. In the sky, she’d clung to Nidhogg’s neck like a drowning kitten, afraid a slip would toss her into the clouds. Free at last, the thin-skinned little Hero flushed like dawn and slid from Nidhogg’s arms. She eyed the cave ahead and asked again, voice small.

“A cave older than my teacher by a few centuries. Inside lies a weapon I need.” Nidhogg watched the rosy tide climb Lilith’s cheeks, then spared the poor thing and turned to the entrance. “Death isn’t the main flavor. The scent of the Star Canvas runs thick here. No wonder she demanded I bring a White Dragon. Odd place… elements all muddled. Maybe I’ll fetch a few earth-dragons later.”

“Uh… that weapon you want—it's not super dangerous, right?” The Little White Dragon’s worry rose like a cold mist. Ancient ruins meant ancient bosses. She could probably win, but she preferred fewer problems, not more.

“The weapon should be fine. Its keeper, maybe not.” Nidhogg thought a beat. “Don’t stress. You’re a Hero. If something can kill a Hero… well, this is just a small cave. It won’t be that bad.”

Please don’t jinx it, sis.

Lilith’s heart sank like a stone in a well. A rare vacation, cut short; dragged into a cave before she’d even slept in. Looked like she’d be dusting off her combat instincts.

“Whatever. Let’s go.” She sighed, raised her right hand, and called the Holy Blade. Her small palm brushed the steel; a pale sanctum light stirred. The Black Swordsman stepped out behind her, shot the Black Dragon a dark glare, then moved to shield the little Saint and led the way.

Nidhogg said nothing. She kept quiet and fell in behind, walking into the cave with a shadow’s patience.

————————

Three figures—two dragons and one phantom—slipped into the dark. Up front, the Little White Dragon moved like a bowstring, every sound a twig-snap in winter woods. She feared a monster leaping out, or some ancient mechanism cleaving them in one stroke. The Black Swordsman kept a step back; three years had forged that habit. Let Lilith draw the first swing; the Swordsman would punish in that heartbeat. Nidhogg trailed with a calm like still water, even savoring the Little White Dragon’s nervous face like a mischievous moon watching ripples.

After ten-odd minutes, they met a thick white stone gate. Lilith planted both hands and shoved. It didn’t budge. She wilted a little, then dismissed the Black Swordsman and called in a knight bearing a long spear.

The Little White Dragon raised the Holy Blade and charged with the Spear Knight. The black spear tip slammed the gate. Boom. Stone burst; a wide hole yawned. Lilith patted the knight’s shoulder, delighted, and ducked through her handiwork.

Nidhogg had been about to ask for blood. She tilted her head, puzzled. She remembered straining at this door and failing, which was why she hauled a White Dragon here—to open it with white-dragon blood. And the kid just poked a hole through it? Huh. Lilith hit harder than expected. If not for her poor resistance to word-spells, Nidhogg would have considered flipping a few functions on that collar.

The Black Dragon girl stooped through the breach and found the Little White Dragon frozen a few steps in. Nidhogg followed Lilith’s stare—and saw it. A colossal ancient automaton loomed ahead. Bronze eyes clicked open; glossy gears spun twice in their socket-like rims. Sight or not, Nidhogg felt that blind gaze weigh her and the White Dragon both. Lilith snapped back to herself, lifted the Holy Blade, and with the returned Swordsman, faced the machine.

“Detected: unknown lifeform.” Gear on gear ground out a heavy, uncanny voice. The giant opened a mouth made for nightmares and spoke in a dull clang-clang. “Threat level: survey. Elimination: possible. Behavior plan: cleaning. Commence.”

The bronze giant rose like a hill shaking off fog. A thick brass carapace barred the path, scalding steam hissing in veils. The brass frame hummed and parted plated shutters. Weapons of unclear design, all too obviously lethal, stepped out on jets of steam and locked onto the White Dragon. It raised its right arm. Vents opened with a hiss; metal warmed to ember-red, a sunrise of heat promising a crushing blow. Like a roadside tiger, it bared its fangs at the intruder and readied the bite.

Lilith braced as if facing a storm. Size alone said trouble. The steam smudged sight like wet ink. This would be a slog.

She lifted the Holy Blade, aiming to strike first and steal the tempo—yet before she could move, Nidhogg spoke behind her. The word reached her bones before her ears. Her body went slack, then rigid. Like a petrified doll, she toppled forward.

Before she hit the floor, she heard Nidhogg’s voice, calm as a still lake, utter a single syllable:

“Stop.”