Half a year later.
On the pure-white marble altar crowning Gaia, a white-haired girl in a white robe lowered her telescope. She flipped off the cool beam and dropped like a swallow’s shadow.
Lilith crossed to the altar’s center, crouched by a yellowed parchment, and added a few strokes with her feather quill. She rose, slid the parchment into the satchel at her waist.
She stowed the telescope on the rack beside the altar. Then she fished a thin monocle from her breast pocket and set it over her left eye.
She murmured an obscure spell; the lens breathed a pale-blue ghostlight, veiling her bright azure gaze. Lilith waved small fingers before her eyes, found her sight misty, then drew a silk scarf from her bag and wiped the lens clean.
Once the view sharpened, she put the scarf away and took out a fresh-looking parchment. The Little White Dragon picked a spot on the altar and sat, staring up at a Star Canvas that blinked like living eyes.
The girl drew a bone pen, grabbed at the air, and an imperfect aquamarine appeared in her palm like a chip of sea. Lilith ground the stone to powder, then dipped the bone nib and let blue dust become ink across the parchment.
It was the 180th day since she began her own study of the Void Command Seat, a full six months in the Dragon Territory. Half a year living under dragon roofs, half a year of breath and frost.
By noon she woke; by afternoon she learned with Fafnir, practicing Dark Magic foundations and basic progressions in Death Magic. Now she could cast to draw the souls of small creatures, though the trick felt ugly, and the Little White Dragon disliked using it.
She and Fafnir never let go of the Shattered Ark, either; for Lilith, its use now felt as natural as her old Holy Blade. At night, she went to Teacher Asterios to learn Frost and Stellar Magic. Unlike the rough pickup of Snowball and Blizzard, she had grown into an Astrologer who could stand alone.
In six months, she crafted a robe of her own, resonated with her first crystal, and used it to strengthen her Astrolabe. Now, she could channel magic straight through that Astrolabe and let it fly like starlight.
Most of her heart stayed fixed on watching constellations, like a compass pinned north. The Little White Dragon once thought the hundred stars of the Void Command Seat would be hard, but manageable in weeks. As she pressed deeper, the shape changed—at first a small feather, now unfolding into two full wings.
Asterios said it was because she had lifted more veils. The Star Canvas had shown the Little White Dragon more of its face, so the constellation’s form had shifted in kind.
Today, she finished observing every star that the current Void Command Seat would reveal. She had etched a pair of wings onto the sky, matching the pattern on her lower belly. And now she was writing the record, tying a closing knot on this stage.
With every step into the Star Canvas, she found rich returns welling up like springs. But flesh memory could not hold every shard, so—at Asterios’s hint—she began to compile stage notes and sort her findings. In plain words, she was writing a term paper, stacking stones into a path. She’d let Asterios read what she had dug up this quarter, and ask for guidance on the road ahead.
Before, she would hand in the report and dive back into her own digging. She had done just that in the past; Asterios saw her results and let her grow wild, only tossing small tasks now and then. But this time was different, like a weather shift. Her study of the Void Command Seat had reached a finish for now. Her resonance with the constellation had grown downright terrifying, like wind joining wing.
A few days ago, she raced Typhon while fully dragonized. The Silver Dragon, queen of speed, ate defeat; the Little White Dragon rode the empty wind and left her by long body lengths.
Without unveiling new veils, her resonance path had hit its end. She needed other studies to deepen how she knew the Star Canvas. But she didn’t know what to do next, or what she should do. So she needed Asterios’s guidance, and needed it quickly.
She wrote the last word, a pin sealing a seam. After a whole night wrestling that term paper, Lilith stood and stretched. Lazy limbs unfurled like willow branches; a few easy breaths slipped out as sitting-soreness melted.
Her dragon body was tougher than the human shell she’d worn. Next to Red or Black Dragons, she was still a roadside chick, one bump and she’d crack. But she felt sturdier now, like bark thickening. In the late-autumn wind, she could sit on cold marble and grind out hours of pages. Back then, she’d have spiked to 103.6 degrees, delirious, game over. Neither Fan Yu nor Lilith’s old human body could have taken that hit.
Now she liked working this way, like a forge that wants heat. If she didn’t, her efficiency dropped; she had already carved a private report corner into the altar. She was a White Dragon, master of ice and snow; this little wind was nothing, a sneeze at most. As for neck sore from long writing, a stretch fixed it; don’t underestimate a dragon’s body.
She rolled the parchment around the bone pen and slid both into her satchel. She tore a small scrap, wrapped the unused aquamarine powder, and dropped it into a roadside bin on the way to Asterios’s home.
The path from altar to lair was short. Blessed by the constellation, even on human feet, Lilith reached Asterios’s door quickly. She knocked lightly, then used her key.
Asterios had given her a key because Lilith often came to research, like a bird given nest rights. Sometimes she even ran over by day to grab what she lacked. Since then, the Silver Dragon Saint had added an extra lock to her own door, like frost on a door.
Lilith pushed the door in; the lair lay black as ink. Asterios seemed not yet awake, like a lake before dawn. The Little White Dragon lit the magic lamp, a star cupped in glass. She pulled the parchment with its bone pen and set it on her small workbench. Then she took the kettle from the cabinet and set it on the mana stove. Soon the water gurgled to a boil like a spring in stone.
She dug out coffee powder and cocoa powder, found two cups, and brewed two steaming drinks. She even poured milk into a flower, then knocked on Asterios’s bedroom door.
“Come in,” Asterios answered softly. Lilith slid the door open and stepped in with the tray of drinks.
She had not expected company. Asterios wasn’t alone; the Silver Dragon and Tartarus sat face to face, one on the bed, one on a chair. A table between them lay buried in papers and files, and two cups sat empty, like moons that had drained. They had been talking for some time, like embers quietly burning.
“Teacher, did I interrupt you?” Lilith stood stuck at the door like a lamppost. It felt like that horror story—five managers and only four milk teas. Also, these two didn’t even like coffee; she couldn’t hand them her own cup.
“Don’t worry, we were waiting for you.” Tartarus set down her files, picked up the two cups, and walked out to refill. “You two talk. I’ll fetch more.” She glanced back. “Asterios, what do you want?”
“Anything. You know me.” “Only black tea?” “Suit yourself.”
Once Tartarus left, Lilith set both coffee and cocoa in front of herself. She dropped into the chair opposite Asterios and took a long pull of cocoa.
“Finished with the constellation?” Asterios asked with a smile. The Little White Dragon nodded, pulled out her star map, and spread it across the table. Asterios bent over it, silent for a moment, then spoke.
“Good. Stop your observations of the Void Command Seat here. If you go further, you can’t bear it yet. As for what you learn next…”
“We think you should get out and walk.” Tartarus pushed the door open, holding two black teas, and looked at the Little White Dragon. “Asterios, Fafnir, and I talked. We all think you should travel.”
“Travel?” Lilith tilted her head, baffled. She hadn’t done anything wild in the Dragon Territory; why was she being kicked out? “Why? Did I mess up?”
“What are you thinking?” Tartarus tapped her forehead, and the silly spiral stopped. She sat beside Asterios with the Silver Dragon and said, “We just think staying in the Dragon Territory isn’t good for you. Go wander, and see more. Right now, you only know how to fight Taint.”
“Rather than trail me here, go walk under different skies,” Asterios added. “The Star Canvas doesn’t like speaking from one place. It wants your feet to move.”
“Um… where do I even start? I barely know the nations on the continent.” Traveling alone felt like tossing a non-swimmer into the sea; it was her dragon life on the line.
“Hmm…” Asterios glanced at the Broken Sword across Lilith’s back. She remembered something Fafnir had said one dawn. “Vampire?”
Tartarus met her eyes and nodded.
“Then that’s settled. Come on, Little White Dragon. Let’s pack. We leave tomorrow.”
“Huh?”
Lilith let out a small wail as Tartarus clamped down with iron fingers and hauled her off to pack in the lair.
