Merchants were shaking their fists in the air as their products were carelessly spilled on the ground.
Two sea monkeys with handkerchief capes were chasing a runaway pastry cart down the hill, shrieking like battle squirrels.
One symbiot rode proudly on the back of a giant goose, clutching a toothpick like a jousting lance.
And behind it all?
A stampede of exasperated heroes.
Drago was in the lead, trying to wrestle a sticky net off his head. Nali trailed behind, dodging overturned carts and scattered debris as she yelled something unladylike and surprisingly creative at several sea monkeys who were laughing and pointing at her. Asahi sprinted beside her, completely covered in rainbow-colored slime. Orion jogged like he was out for a casual stroll, expertly dodging banana peels and flying fruit while he wended water in various useful ways.
Behind them came the Dragonlings—every one of them.
Phoenix skidded around a corner, her wings flaring with frustration as she shouted, “That one stole the basket of self-weaving yarn. Be careful!”
Amber and Jade were goggling in dismay as one of their Bubble Blaster 5000s shot a deluge of bubbles across half the road.
“Did you see that trajectory? You missed them by a mile!” Jade shouted.
“I told you the angle was off by two degrees!” Amber called back.
“And I told you that we had to calibrate for the?—"
Spring emerged from the crowd, tangled in a fish net, and promptly tripped over a rogue basket of apples.
Alice ran past, yelling, “I’m trying to make a containment field, but THEY WON’T STOP MOVING!”
Jabir flinched when he noticed Roam chasing a sea monkey with a frying pan stuck to its tail, growling with fury, while Zohar rode on the back of a runaway fruit cart like it was a war chariot, swinging a net wildly overhead.
They need help, his dragon huffed in a slow breath. We gone five minutes and they make mess.
Land there, he instructed.
His dragon dropped like a stone, landing hard on the docks with a solid thud. He twisted when a fish vendor screamed out a warning and ducked as a symbiot catapulted over his head, trailing a streamer of sausage links like a victory banner.
Jabir shifted, his gaze scanning for the item he’d seen from above. He rushed over to the musician hiding behind a stack of crates.
“Excuse me, can I borrow your flute for a few minutes?” he asked, his gaze darting from the cyclops to the rampaging creatures destroying the dock area.
“Ye-yes. Here! Just make them go away!” the cyclops muttered, terrified.
Jabir took the flute with a grateful nod and an apologetic smile, and stepped away from the crates. Chaos whirled around him—sea monkeys swinging from banners, demented symbiots playing leapfrog over merchant carts—but Jabir didn’t chase them. He stood still, and he played.
The gentle melody danced through the loud crashes, squeals, and war cries, weaving through the smoky, glitter-scented air.
A few heads turned.
A couple of sea monkeys paused mid-scamper, blinking slowly as they tilted their heads.
A demented symbiot halted, ears twitching, and plopped down.
Jabir swayed to the rhythm of the haunting tune, and pride and triumph coursed through him when creatures dropped from high perches and crept out from under low ones, heads bobbing and tails twitching.
Jabir played patiently, and by the fifth note of the second verse, the sea monkeys’ usual wild screeches had softened into happy, humming clicks and the demented symbiots—still covered in bits of ribbon, feathers, and stolen snacks—danced with dreamy twirls and rhythmic whirls.
In the wake of the bystanders’ awe and amazement, Jabir walked slowly toward the water, his fingers moving with purpose over the bone-cool flute.
The sea monkeys trailed after him, entranced, moving with swaying shoulders and hips in a loose conga line. The demented symbiots followed in a bouncing wave, their eyes glowing a peaceful green-blue.
