Seraphira tore into the deer carcass with sharp precision, her mind far away from the feast in front of her. The wind carried the scent of rain and distant thunder, hinting at a coming storm. Lost in thought, she barely noticed when a dragon's shadow fell over her.

"Well, well, if it isn't the human hugger," came a familiar, teasing voice.

Seraphira paused, lifting her head. Standing before her was Elijah, his shimmering scales a mesmerizing blend of deep blues and greens, like the sea after a storm. His piercing emerald eyes, the most striking in their tribe, sparkled with mischief as he grinned.

She sighed. "What do you want, Elijah?"

Elijah stepped closer, his wings folding neatly against his back. "Oh, I'm just here to tease you, what else? It's been years since we've had any dealings with humans, and now here you are—treating them like old friends." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "We should be killing them, Seraphira. That's the queen's first order. Or did you forget?"

Seraphira's jaw tightened as she swallowed the last of her meal. "I don't follow the queen's orders like you do, Elijah. I'm not the captain of her guard. I'm just a simple civilian."

Elijah snorted. "Simple? You? Hardly." He tilted his head. "And where are you off to now?"

She flicked her tail. "Out to the outposts. I need to think."

A smaller, brown-scaled dragon landed beside them, his expression worried. "There's a storm coming," he said softly.

Seraphira offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

Without another word, she spread her wings and headed toward the mountain's entrance. The wind howled as she descended, her sharp eyes scanning the rocky terrain below. The clones were still there, lingering near the stones. Oddly enough, no dragon had circled or threatened them. The tribe merely walked past, indifferent to their presence.

Two dragons—one pink, the other red—stood nearby, their scales glistening in the fading light. They were smaller than most storm dragons, with more delicate features and vivid colors. These were fire dragons, or SkyWings, as they called themselves. Though they had been adopted into the Storm Tribe, they were known for their fiery tempers and disdain for outsiders.

Yet here they were, openly curious about the humans.

Seraphira approached them, her steps light but purposeful. "What are you two doing here?" she asked.

The pink dragon turned, her golden eyes bright with excitement. "We heard there were humans. We had to see them for ourselves!"

The red dragon chuckled. "They're pretty, aren't they?" He leaned down and gently capped Wrecker's head with a talon.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Seraphira said, amusement in her tone as the clones immediately drew their weapons.

Wrecker, however, merely laughed. "It's a riot, mateys. These dragons are friendly."

"Still," Hunter said, his voice firm, "put him down."

The red dragon chuckled, withdrawing his talon. "You humans are no fun."

Seraphira smirked. "Heading out again, Horizon?"

The red dragon grinned. "Got a party on the southern coast."

"Let me guess," Seraphira teased. "Lady Jewel?"

Horizon's scales shimmered with heat, his embarrassment evident.

The pink dragon laughed. "Oh, my brother is definitely in love. He's been mooning over her for months!"

Horizon scowled. "I'm not—"

"Oh, yes, you are." The pink dragon nudged him playfully before turning back to Seraphira. "And what about you? I hope we see you with a mate soon."

Seraphira's smile faded slightly. "Mates aren't for me."

The pink dragon rolled her eyes. "Mother Nature has a way of surprising us. You'll see."

Seraphira shook her head. "I'm an explorer, remember? I don't have time for that."

With a playful snort, the pink dragon spread her wings. "Whatever you say, Seraphira." She nudged Horizon, and the two took off, their laughter echoing through the mountains.

Seraphira turned back to the clones, who had been quietly observing the exchange. They shared uncertain glances before Crosshair spoke.

"You don't have a mate?"

Seraphira arched a brow. "No. And I don't see how that's any of your business."

Hunter shrugged. "We could help. We've been around. Seen a lot of dragons."

Seraphira laughed, a deep, thunderous sound. "You? Help me? You barely know this land. You barely know me. No, clones, I'm afraid your destiny is far simpler—you'll be devoured by our queen."

As she turned to leave, a shadow fell over them all.

From the highest peak of the mountain, the queen herself descended.

Her scales were midnight black, tinged with violet streaks that shimmered like oil in the light. Her wings spanned wide, blotting out the sky. When she landed, the ground trembled beneath her massive form.

Her eyes, colder than a storm's heart, locked onto the humans.

"So," the queen said, her voice a rumble of power. "What do we have here?"

SCENEBREAK

Zephyra lowered her head, her wings folding tightly against her sides in an instinctive show of respect, but her heart beat like the drum of a thunderstorm. Her silver eyes met the queen's, unwavering in the face of the approaching storm. "Nyxara," she said, her voice calm but tinged with the weight of their shared history.

The queen flicked her tail with a slow, deliberate movement, the crackle of electricity in the air seeming to hum with her anger. Nyxara's obsidian scales gleamed under the darkening sky, and her eyes—cold as the heart of a storm—narrowed in disapproval.

"I see you're doing things you're not supposed to again, Zephyra," Nyxara's voice was as sharp as a crack of lightning, each word striking with precision. "Lizard told me you were... mingling with the humans." She sighed deeply, the sound heavy with disappointment, as she folded her enormous storm wings back, the tips just grazing the mountain rocks below. Her massive form cast a shadow that loomed over Zephyra like a stormcloud ready to burst.

Zephyra stood tall, her own wings stiff against the tension building in the air, but she didn't move. She couldn't—this was the queen, her sovereign, and yet... something stirred deep within her, something that whispered that she could not simply follow Nyxara's every command.

"Well then," Nyxara waved her tail, the motion like a whip crack splitting the silence. As if on cue, two armored guards—large, imposing figures with jagged silver scales—stepped forward. Their eyes gleamed beneath their heavy helmets as they moved to seize the Bad Batch, their claws clamping around the clones with practiced ease.

Wrecker grunted, struggling against the sudden hold, his muscles straining against the tight grip. Hunter's sharp gaze snapped toward Zephyra, his eyes filled with a silent plea for help. The subtle movement of his lips barely registered in the charged air as he mouthed the words: "Help us."

Zephyra's heart lurched. For a brief moment, she faltered, her instincts at war with the chains of duty. But she knew what was at stake. The queen would not show mercy. Nyxara's temper was as unpredictable as the storms she commanded, and defying her meant certain destruction.

Before Zephyra could make any move, Nyxara took a step forward. The ground seemed to tremble beneath her immense weight as she moved, her wings folding tightly at her sides. She was the embodiment of wrath as she approached, her eyes narrowing like the storm clouds before a downpour.

Without warning, Nyxara's massive tail lashed out, connecting with Zephyra's face with a crack that echoed through the mountains. The force of the blow sent Zephyra's head snapping to the side, the impact stinging against her scales and sending a shock through her body.

"Useless," Nyxara snarled, her voice a low, guttural growl that resonated in Zephyra's bones. The queen's expression was a mask of fury, her dark eyes blazing with barely contained wrath.

For a moment, everything was silent. Zephyra's cheek burned from the strike, but her gaze remained locked on Nyxara, unwavering. Her jaw clenched, but she did not retaliate. She would not give the queen the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

"You've betrayed me, Zephyra," Nyxara continued, her voice ice-cold. "You've betrayed your own kind." Her tail flicked again, a sharp warning. "If you wish to coddle these creatures, then you are no longer fit to be here. You will not bring them into my domain."

Zephyra straightened, her posture rigid as the storm began to churn within her. She could feel the surge of power coursing through her veins, the crackling energy of the coming storm mirroring her own conflicted emotions. "I do not coddle them," Zephyra said quietly, her voice steady but edged with a defiance she could no longer suppress. "But they are not the enemy, Nyxara."

The queen's expression darkened, the storm in her eyes deepening like an approaching tempest. Her wings rustled as her form loomed even larger, towering over Zephyra. "They will be," Nyxara said coldly, her voice a promise of thunder and destruction. "They will be."

Nyxara's wings flared with an almost tangible fury as she turned, her massive form disappearing into the shadows of the mountain. The air trembled with her departure, the weight of her anger lingering long after she was gone. The ground beneath Zephyra's claws still quivered from the force of the queen's words, but it was the silence that followed that struck her the hardest.

Zephyra stood motionless, her silver eyes clouded with a mixture of hurt and frustration. Her nostrils flared, drawing in the crisp mountain air, but her mind was elsewhere, lost in the reverberations of the queen's rejection. She barely noticed the cold droplets of blood trickling down from her broken nose until they splattered against the ground beneath her.

The crimson streaks stood out starkly against the grey stones, a reminder of how far she had fallen from Nyxara's favor. Her head still pulsed with the force of the blow, but she remained unmoving, her body taut with a quiet, simmering rage that matched the storms that churned in her chest.

Why? she asked herself, the question echoing within her mind like the distant rumble of thunder. Why is she so blind to the truth?

Her eyes flicked to where the Bad Batch had been taken, their fate uncertain. She had felt the weight of their gaze—their trust—in her, and yet in this moment, she felt helpless, torn between the loyalty she had sworn to the queen and the bond she had begun to form with those humans.

The storm in her chest twisted, but Zephyra suppressed it, closing her eyes for a moment as the blood from her nose slowly ceased to fall. She couldn't let the queen's anger consume her, not now. Not when there was more at stake than personal pride or loyalty.

She was a storm dragon, bound to the skies and the winds. She would find a way to make things right. Whether Nyxara wanted her to or not.