[I sense your doubt toward the Elar'Gyra.] Mirage's voice echoed in his mind, patient and deep. [They are not gods—only a fractured consciousness, born of their ambition. Once a race close to the Eluwyn, they reached beyond their means… and were twisted in the other realm.]

She paused, as if thinking further before speaking.

[What remains now is a singular mind—merged and bound by the laws of the Otherworld. They exist only to preserve their wisdom… and prevent their madness from spreading. They are not what they once were, child.]

It was then Fay realized—his dragon was no ordinary creature. To even know of the Elar'Gyra, a race his teacher had only spoken and referred to as the Ancients, meant Mirage was far more than he'd assumed.

[I can read your mind. And calling me "old" is not very nice.] The dragon's tone took on a hint of amused scolding. [Now, let us begin the pact. Only then will my aether truly stabilize within you.]

Her voice grew firmer.

[This is not something you can yet do with your other creatures. They are far too weak—still caught between realms, not yet ready to manifest true form. But… I am.]

Fay nodded slowly. He still didn't fully understand, but something told him that asking too many questions now would only irritate her.

[So… you are ready. Good.] Mirage's voice deepened.

[Take your blade. Make a shallow cut upon yourself. That will be the start.]

Fay obeyed. He drew the edge of the wind-forged blade across his palm—just enough to draw blood. A crimson line welled up instantly.

Across from him, Mirage lifted one massive claw and did the same. She tore into her own palm—slowly, deliberately—and shimmering blood, tinged with color too strange to be red, fell from the wound.

[This…] she said solemnly, [is why such a pact is nearly impossible. Not only must the summoner shed blood, but we—the Eldritch—must be strong enough to produce it. Not essence. Not illusion. Real blood, imbued with our true aether signature. If it is anything less…]

Her eyes met his.

[…we risk losing ourselves in the binding. And worse—you risk being changed, twisted, reshaped by the pact. If it is not fully willed by both sides, it becomes a curse, not a bond.]

Fay swallowed hard.

The weight of her words sank into him, heavy and suffocating—like being pulled in deep water.

And yet, despite the warning… he did not falter.

Mirage wasn't just the creature he had summoned.

It felt as if she had chosen him.

And perhaps… it was that very sentience—her mind, her will—that made this bond feel unlike any other.

He stepped forward, unsure of what the next step would be.

Mirage simply lifted her paw and pressed it gently to his, letting their blood mix—dragon and human, creature and summoner.

In that moment, Fay's hand quivered.

Scales began to sprout slowly from his skin, silver and fine, glimmering under the pale light.

They traced across the back of his hand like metallic spikes.

[Concentrate, child,] Mirage said calmly. [You must keep yourself in check. Feel the flow of aether—calm it. This is the power of the Mind Domain… so strong, it can change one's reality if left unchecked.]

Fay shut his eyes, then opened them again—this time shifting into spirit vision.

His hand glowed with fog-like white energy, swirling in disarray. It was his own aether—but unanchored, morphing his body without command.

He reached into the current with his will, letting his breath slow. The swirl above his hand began to settle, responding to his intent.

He focused, guiding the flow, until it hovered gently—no longer consuming him but glowing just millimeters above his skin.

With a blink, he turned off his spirit vision.

The scales were still there… but they had stopped spreading. They remained just behind his palm—no longer creeping up into his wrist.

[There,] Mirage said. [The oath is sealed. Words were not needed—I spoke them for us. The Pact of Power is complete… formed in balance, as equals.]

Fay nodded, his heart still thudding in his chest.

He turned toward her, wondering what effect the pact had on her.

Instead, Mirage closed her eyes. Her great draconic form shimmered and began to change.

Her body shrank and twisted—not painfully, but willed—guided by the pact's bond. Mist and fog coiled around her, forming a new shape.

Moments later, a girl stood where the dragon had been.

She appeared just a little older than Mira, perhaps ten or eleven—still young, but with an powerful aura humming above her skin. She was not quite as tall as Fay or Horin, but clearly more than a simple child.

"This form will do… I guess," she said with a sigh, her voice delicate with a tinge of anger.

The mist finished curling into a dress around her body.

Two silver horns curled softly from her head, while platinum hair flowed down to her back.

Her eyes shimmered between gold and silver, slitted like a dragon's—but far too knowing for her apparent age.

She had a tail that swayed behind her and had kept her small wings—though they fluttered with her feelings of irritation more than grace.

The parts of her body which still bore silver scales, where the areas along her arms, back, and around her horns.

"Until you get stronger, I will have to remain like this," Mirage said, folding her arms. "Your core now houses four Eldritch, so I expect it to take a while. The good thing is that as they—and I—grow, your limit also grows. You have a great potential in the future, child."

Fay rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know how to respond, especially when she kept calling him child in that all-knowing tone.

"…Can you just call me Fay?" he asked. "I can't call you Mira—that's my sister's name. So, I'll just keep calling you Mirage."

He paused, hoping that didn't sound rude.

"That is fine," she replied with a shrug. "I would not have accepted a change to my name either. Now tell me—what do we do next? I still need food."

Fay looked around, trying to decide, until he raised his gaze upward.

Above them stood a palace carved into the mountain wall, gleaming with white marble towers and gold accents.

"…Well, I think we can demand a little more from the king," he said. "He probably has plenty of aether cores. And the barracks too—we can raid those. I'm sure the demi-human fighters will help collect them. As thanks… for your help."

He hoped that would at least distract her from eating anyone.

"Fine by me," Mirage said, already stretching. "Have them gather the cores. We, on the other hand, will meet this king. And as with any dragon—I require my stockpile of gold."

Fay blinked and scratched his hair.

"...Where are you even going to store that?"

She ignored the question.

Instead, she flapped her small wings once—then expanded them with a gust of fog. They grew twice her size, shining faintly with silver veins and mist trailing from the edges.

"I'm not walking those stairs," she said flatly.

Before Fay could object, she grabbed him by the arm and lifted off—dragging him up toward the palace like an impatient child.

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