Morning arrived swifter than an arrow flying through the air, dawn''s light slicing through the dark like a blade—sharp, relentless, inevitable.


    Alythiel, Torglel, and I set off for Thoringard, the three of us walking side by side, boots crunching over dirt and stone, a steady rhythm against the waking world. The sun was just starting to rise above us, a golden blaze cutting the chill of the early morning, casting long shadows across the road—dark fingers stretching ahead as if pointing us toward our fate.


    After a while, Alythiel broke the silence, her voice low but edged with concern—soft against the wind''s faint rustle through the trees. "Can you trust that vampire to be alone with the other two?"


    I opened my mouth to respond, but Torglel cut in before I could get a word out, his gruff voice bursting through like a hammer on stone, brassy and unfiltered. "You''re telling me that creepy pale dude lurking in the corner is an actual vampire?" He huffed, shaking his head in disbelief, beard swaying as he stomped along, bronze clasps glinting in the dawn. "Like, blood sucker and all? Then how''s he walking around in daylight like it ain''t gonna fry him like a rockfish dinner?"


    Alythiel hummed thoughtfully, one finger tapping on her chin—silver hair catching the light as she tilted her head, a faint frown creasing her brow. "That''s... a good question," she said. "How is he able to do that?"


    I chuckled, a dry sound that cut through the tension, my breath fogging faintly in the cool air. "It''s one of two reasons. He''s either lived long enough to overcome that weakness or he''s got some sort of magical protection against it."


    Torglel grunted, unimpressed, kicking a pebble that skittered across the path with a sharp clack. "So what, he can survive in the sun like the rest of us."


    "Pretty much," I said, glancing sidelong at him. "And as for your concern," I turned to Alythiel, her moonstone eyes locking with mine, "he just wants to live his life without being persecuted for it. Our deal gives him that life."


    Alythiel frowned, unconvinced—her lips pressing into a thin line, doubt shadowing her face like a storm cloud. "How can you be so sure of his intentions? After all, you don''t even know him."


    I met her gaze with unyielding determination, steel in my voice despite the flicker of uncertainty gnawing beneath it—Corven''s fangs flashing in my mind. "Because if he wasn''t, we''d have never made it out of that cave alive."


    The tension could be cut with a knife—thick, heavy, pressing against us as we walked, the air taut with unspoken fears. The words—as grim as they were—didn''t diminish the fact they were true, a cold reality I couldn''t dodge. The truth isn''t always what we want to hear—I know she didn''t want to hear it that day, her silence a weight heavier than words, her eyes searching mine for something I couldn''t promise.


    We made our way to Thoringard, Torglel filling the air with stories the entire way—his voice a boisterous roar over the wind, tales spilling out like ale from an overturned mug. Alythiel listened patiently, though I caught more than a few amused glances she sent my way—Her lips twitching with quiet amusement as Torglel gestured like a bard on stage


    "And then Solari dove out the window," Torglel said, waving a hand for dramatic effect, nearly smacking me in the face, "and landed right on top of the target."


    I smirked, ducking his flailing arm. "If I hadn''t, Mavik was about to blow the whole building up and call it our exit."


    Torglel chuckled, a deep rumble that shook his frame. "Aye—and you''d think we planned it that way!"


    "Arcainius swore we had the devil''s luck from that day on," I said, smiling slyly, the memory sharp—Arcainius''s gruff laugh echoing in my skull, his hand clapping my shoulder.


    Mavik was one of the few people crazy enough to work with us—not many could keep up with the way Torglel and I operated, winging it when things inevitably went south, chaos our oldest friend. By the time we crossed the gates of Thoringard and made our way to the throne room—stone walls towering, carved with runes older than memory—Alythiel had heard enough stories to fill a book or two, her quiet laughter a rare balm against the road''s dust.


    Tolgarn sat on the massive obsidian throne at the far end of the hall, its jagged edges gleaming like frozen flame. Emberguard flanked him—stalwart and unmoving, royal protectors sworn to defend the king at any cost, their armor polished to a mirror sheen, axes resting steady.


    I stepped forward, meeting Tolgarn''s gaze with the respect he was due—my adoptive father, my king—and bowed before him, the stone cold under my boots. "Tolgarn," I said, keeping my voice steady, "I come to you as the new Grand Shadow of the Shadow Hand."


    His expression shifted—weariness settling behind his eyes, a shadow crossing his weathered face, gray streaking his beard heavier than I remembered. "Solari, my boy," Tolgarn sighed, a sound heavy with years. "Let''s go get a drink."


    He rose from the throne with quiet authority, his broad frame moving with the grace of a warrior still sharp despite age, and led us to his private study. Once inside, the room warm with the scent of leather and woodsmoke, he poured two glasses of deep amber liquor from a decanter—liquid fire catching the hearth''s glow—and handed me one, the glass cool against my palm.


    "This about taking down Nox Arcanus?" he asked, settling into his chair, the creak of leather loud in the quiet.


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    I took a slow sip, the burn sharp on my tongue. "Part of it, yes."


    Then I met his gaze directly, steeling myself. "I found out Zolphan is my biological father."


    The words left a bitter taste—sharper than the liquor, a truth that stung deeper than I''d braced for.


    Tolgarn''s jaw tightened, lines deepening around his eyes. He drank deep, the glass clinking hard as he set it down with a heavy thud. "You learned about your family," he said quietly, voice rough, "and now they are your enemy."


    I exhaled sharply, the air tight in my chest. "I learned about my people," I corrected, "but you... you are my family."


    That earned me a rare, fond smile from the old dwarf—his eyes warming like the glow of the hearth, a flicker of the father I''d known beneath the king''s weight. He nodded, a small gesture heavy with meaning.


    "What is it you''re after, Grand Shadow?" Tolgarn asked, leaning back, glass cradled in his hand.


    I didn''t hesitate. "I''m rebuilding the Shadow Hand to find Zolphan—and to end him. Who knows what chaos he''ll bring if he''s not stopped."


    I took another sip, letting the fire of the drink steel my voice, its heat grounding me. "And I want to establish diplomatic relations with Thoringard."


    Tolgarn''s brow furrowed, his weathered hand tightening around his glass. He regarded me in silence for a long moment—assessing, weighing—then drained his glass, the amber disappearing in a single pull. "You have my blessing," he said at last, voice firm but cautious, "but this is a matter for the Emberforge Senate now."


    He stood, his gaze harder now—more king than father, the weight of rule settling over him. "You''ll need a majority vote. And I assure you... it won''t be easy."


    I set my empty glass down, the clink sharp against the wood, meeting his gaze with steely resolve—unyielding, unflinching. "Ever since I discovered the truth about the Drydalis... life hasn''t been easy."


    Tolgarn nodded once, raising his glass in a quiet salute—a gesture of trust, of challenge. "Good. We hold council tomorrow at the peak of day. Rest while you can." I raised my glass, clinking his, the sound ringing clear—a pact sealed in amber and steel.


    Little did I know, the task set before me to earn their favor would be more treacherous than I ever expected—lurking in the shadows of Thoringard''s depths, waiting to test me beyond breaking.


    The next afternoon, I stood below the dais, seven seats circled around me like a ring of judgment—stone thrones carved with dwarven runes, worn smooth by centuries of debate. Seven of the most prominent and powerful figures in Thoringard made up The Emberforge Senate: seven thrones, seven powers—war, defense, innovation, commerce, faith, legacy... and the crown.


    Tolgarn Emberforge, the king—and my adoptive father, his gray beard stark against his dark armor. Taldric Emberforge, Tolgarn''s first son and heir to the throne, broad and stern, eyes sharp with calculation. Ruvik Flameheart, Phoenix Commander of the Emberguard, royal protectors of the king—red hair blazing, armor gleaming like fire. Brannik Ironsoul, Supreme Commander of the Molten Vanguard, the Dwarven army''s finest—scarred and unyielding, a hammer resting at his side. Odrin Ashenforge, Master Artificer of Thoringard''s innovative engineering guild—lean, spectacled, hands stained with forge soot. Velmira Goldbarrow, Guildmaster of Thoringard''s trade and commerce—sharp-eyed, gold rings glinting, holding the purse strings of Thoringard''s assets. Gralden Coalburn, High Priest of Thoringard and the voice of Tharnak—white-robed, revered, his staff tapping the floor with quiet menace.


    These seven would decide the fate of Thoringard''s relations with the Shadow Hand—my future balanced on their word.


    Alythiel and Torglel stood by my side—Alythiel steady, her daggers a quiet threat; Torglel stiff and rigid, shoulders squared in a way I''d never seen. Not even when we fought his greatest fear—a giant spider, all legs and venom—had he looked this tense, his usual swagger locked tight under the Senate''s gaze.


    Tolgarn''s voice broke the silence, deep and resonant, filling the chamber. "I have summoned you all today regarding Solari Emberforge, Grand Shadow of the Shadow Hand. He wishes to extend diplomatic relations with Thoringard."


    The words hung for a moment before arguments erupted, voices filling the room like a forge''s roar—hammering, relentless.


    "The Shadow Hand is a stain and goes against everything we dwarves stand for," Gralden Coalburn said, his voice thick with disdain, white knuckles gripping the arm of his seat, staff trembling faintly with his fervor.


    "I agree," Ruvik Flameheart added coldly, eyeing me with disdain—his red hair a stark slash against his stern face. "They are a dangerous element."


    Velmira Goldbarrow leaned forward slightly, her smile sharp, ringed fingers tapping on the dais with a metallic clink. "The Shadow Hand could prove to be a great financial benefit."


    Taldric Emberforge folded his arms, his tone measured, calm amidst the storm. "If we play this right, the relationship could be an asset in the long run. The leader was raised by Tolgarn. That should allow for some measure of trust."


    Brannik Ironsoul''s voice was blunt and to the point, cutting through like a blade on stone. "Does he possess strength worthy of dwarves? Strength is a vital asset to be considered a friend to the dwarves."


    I stood there, listening to them argue over the fate of the Shadow Hand like we weren''t even in the room—their voices a cacophony, dragging on like the endless hammering of the forge, each word a strike shaping my path. My pulse thudded steady, but beneath it, a flicker of unease—family or not, this was no easy ask.


    The bickering continued for minutes—shouts overlapping, tempers flaring—before Odrin Ashenforge finally spoke, his voice cutting through the noise like a chisel through rock, precise and clear. "As it stands, only Brannik and I remain undecided."


    All eyes turned to him with curiosity, the room stilling—seven gazes pinning him, then shifting to me.


    "I propose a test," Odrin continued, adjusting his spectacles, soot-stained fingers steady. "A chance for Solari to prove he can work in Thoringard''s best interest."


    He glanced at Brannik, who gave a curt nod—scarred face unreadable, hammer resting like an extension of his arm. "In the belly of the Smeltfire Deeps lies our richest mineral veins, untouched for generations because of the monster that dwells there. The Deepfire Drake."


    Gasps rippled through the room—sharp, involuntary, the name a spark igniting fear and awe.


    "We have tried and failed to defeat it time and time again," Odrin said, voice steady despite the weight of his words. "The Smeltfire Deeps have remained closed to us because of that beast."


    Tolgarn exhaled sharply, a sound heavy with dread, his hand tightening on his throne''s armrest. "Odrin, are you suggesting Solari face something even we couldn''t best? That''s absolute madness. Suicide, even."


    "With all due respect, Your Majesty," Brannik replied, his tone as unyielding as stone, eyes hard as flint, "this is the best way to prove he can act in the interest of Thoringard."


    Tolgarn sighed heavily—a sound that carried the weight of a king''s burden, shoulders slumping slightly. "Then it''s decided." He turned to me, his gaze piercing yet pained. "Solari will defeat the Deepfire Drake to earn Odrin and Brannik''s vote in favor of establishing diplomatic relations."


    The decision echoed in the chamber like a hammer striking an anvil—final, resonant, shaking the air. "This meeting is adjourned."


    One by one, the council filed out—robes rustling, armor clanking, voices muttering as they dispersed.


    Torglel slapped me on the shoulder hard enough to stagger me, his grin wide and wild—blue eyes glinting with a fire I hadn''t seen all day. "Finally!" he said, voice booming through the now-empty hall. "We get to fight an actual dragon!"


    Alythiel sighed, her breath a soft huff, silver hair swaying as she shook her head. "It''s a drake, not a dragon."


    Torglel shrugged like it was splitting hairs, his grin unshaken. "Drake, dragon—same thing."


    I didn''t argue. Not then—my mind already spinning toward the Smeltfire Deeps, the beast waiting in its depths. But later... I''d wonder if Torglel had been right all along. The Deepfire Drake was far beyond anything I could have imagined—far beyond my expectations, a shadow of fire and fury lurking in the dark, ready to test me past breaking.