The surface shimmered.
A ripple of images formed in the water, fluid and glowing. At first, it was just the archives—Dolph’s familiar silhouette hunched over a cluttered table, rifling through old documents.
Then, Juno. Bouncing into the frame, talking, poking, asking questions. The usual.
Orion sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Great,” he muttered. “What now?”
But then—his spine stiffened.
The water surged in the vision.
A dragon—dark brown scales, unfamiliar—erupted from the reflection pool. Water exploded in every direction before the dragon shimmered, folding down into a teenage boy.
Orion’s heart clenched.
The boy wasn’t from the Isle of the Dragons. That much was clear.
His face was unfamiliar. So was the power surrounding him.
Dolph stepped forward in the vision, clearly using his power to trap the boy inside a bubble of water.
Orion’s jaw tightened.
And then—just as quickly—released him.
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing as the boys huddled around something, whispering. Their backs were turned, shoulders close, eyes locked on the table.
He scanned the room, trying to see what they were focused on.
And then he saw it.
The empty space on the far wall.
The ornate, carved frame.
Bare.
“No,” he breathed.
He strode across the room, the vision still rippling in the pool, and laid his fingers against the empty wooden frame, following the grooves of the absent relic.
It had hung there for generations.
An ancient portal map, woven with magic older than the kingdoms themselves. Only visible to those attuned to the water.
His fingers curled around the edge of the frame.
The map was gone.
With a curse, he stepped back and turned in a slow circle, mind racing.
Where would they go?
Where would Dolph go?
And then—like a puzzle snapping into place—the memory struck him.
