Chapter 47 – Dragonbond

In the months that followed, life settled into a strange new rhythm. Elara had anticipated that taking Kaelira—now simply "Kael" to the close group—under her wing would come with adjustments, but not like this.

Kael's loyalty was absolute. And while Elara had braced for a protector, what she got instead was something halfway between an overzealous knight, a doting maid, and an aggressively territorial wolf. She couldn't help it—it was in her blood. Quite literally. Generations of genetic memory, cultural norms, and biological imperatives crashed headlong into Elara's modern sensibilities.

Kael snapped to attention at every movement, tried to shield her from crowds, and worst of all—hovered like a thundercloud whenever one of Elara's fanclub boys got within speaking range. There had been more than one incident where Kael had to be physically pulled away from situations that might've ended in someone losing a limb.

Mira, of course, found it all hilarious.

When she was first introduced to Kael, and heard the full story—including the public duel, the magical imprisonment, and the swearing of loyalty in ancient Draconian—she had burst out laughing so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.

"You're telling me," Mira wheezed, clutching her sides, "that our sweet, shy Elara is now the warlord alpha of an actual Dragonkin with a continent's worth of land?! Gods, I can't—this is better than any court drama!"

Despite the rough start, Kael integrated surprisingly well into their friend group. Sylv still gave her a bit of a side-eye now and then, mostly because Kael was now responsible for Elara's morning nail ritual—a new addition to Elara's routine, courtesy of Mira and Sylv.

It had started as a joke. A little polish here, a touch of color there. Something to make use of Kael's surprisingly precise fingers and Mira's vast collection of cosmetics.

Elara had initially scoffed at the idea. "What do I need that for? I'm an inventor, not a noble debutante."

But then, after the first few attempts, she started to notice something… odd.

People noticed her hands. Her fingers. Her toes, especially when she wore open footwear. Comments ranged from admiring glances to outright compliments, even subtle shifts in tone from teachers and students alike. Something about the soft shimmer of gloss over perfectly shaped nails made her look polished—elevated. Powerful in a quiet, deliberate way.

And she liked it.

Really liked it.

So began a slow descent into what Mira gleefully termed "Elara's nail Era."

It wasn't enough to have her nails done. Soon, Kael was coordinating her nail color with her wardrobe.

On days when Elara wore her deep violet research robe with silver trim, her nails were painted in matching hues, and she paired them with silver-heeled sandals that wrapped around her ankles like elegant serpents, leaving her toes proudly on display.

For meetings in the capital, she chose sleek, backless black heels with a glossy finish that caught the light as she walked, paired with a charcoal-gray skirt and sleeveless high-collar blouse. Her toenails gleamed a rich garnet red, accented with microscopic rune patterns that glowed ever so faintly.

On sunny days, she went with soft linen dresses in pastel tones—mint, sky blue, or peach—and wedge heels with floral embroidery. Her toenails would match the dress or echo the runes she was experimenting with that week. One day, she wore a pale yellow sundress with translucent straps, her white-and-gold nails gleaming like starlight against her tanned skin.

And, of course, there were the academy days.

Elara had a pair of open-toed, knee-high rune-etched sandals with a slight heel—practical but stylish, made of enchanted leather that shimmered faintly. They became her go-to for teaching, her "combat sandals," as Mira dubbed them. Comfortable enough to walk in all day, but still flashy enough to underline her authority.

It was never just about showing off. It was a signal.

Every carefully polished toe, every coordinated outfit, every precise heel click across marble floors—Elara was no longer just the quiet prodigy tinkering in her lab.

She was seen now. And she had learned to own it.

It was, ironically, Kael who had pushed her in that direction—by treating her as someone worthy of reverence, someone who deserved the world's gaze. And Elara, once hesitant, had embraced it with growing confidence.

Kael, for her part, never questioned it. She took immense pride in selecting the right polish, matching it with the fabric of Elara's clothes, even adjusting the straps of her shoes to best display the nails.

It became their unspoken ritual—an expression of status, confidence, and mutual understanding.

And Elara… began to enjoy looking at her reflection just a bit more.

Kael, who had long since suspected there was more to Elara than just a sharp tongue and sharper magic, eventually stumbled upon the truth of E.W.—Elara's hidden inventor identity. It wasn't a grand revelation, not exactly. It was a glance over Elara's shoulder during a particularly long night in the workshop, a glimpse at a sealed schematic with the unmistakable E.W. seal, and a lingering silence that followed.

When the reality sank in, Kael stood completely still for almost a full minute. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating like a dragon about to face a god.

"The rapid advancement... the hover trucks, the mana lattice cores, the auto-smithy... that was you?" Her voice, usually composed, trembled with awe.

Elara didn't look up from her prototype. "Welcome to the R&D department," she replied, almost lazily, as if she hadn't just admitted to shaking the foundation of modern magical engineering.

Kael stared at her, visibly recalibrating everything she thought she knew about her Mistress. She had worshipped Elara for her strength, her calm command, her presence. But this? This was something else. This was world-shaping.

In the days that followed, Kael's awe matured into something deeper—a quiet, reverent respect for the mind that had bent an entire magical discipline into new shapes. She found herself leaning over Elara's desk late into the night, absorbing concepts she had no frame of reference for: mana capacitors, light-channeling lattices, compressed rune imprinting, subharmonic reinforcement arrays.

At first, Kael struggled. Dragonkin culture revered strength and instinct—but not necessarily the intricacies of engineering. Still, she was determined. She began taking notes, asking questions, sometimes simply watching in silence as Elara worked, committing her hand movements to memory.

To Elara's surprise, Kael adapted. Quickly. She had a remarkable intuition for spatial construction, and a sense of mana pressure that rivaled the academy's best. Within weeks, Kael was assisting with small tasks—sorting rune sets, aligning vector mirrors, even operating the engraver under Elara's supervision.

And somewhere between blueprints and rune matrices, Kael began to smile more. Her sharp, guarded pride remained—but now it was laced with something gentler. Admiration, yes, but also a kind of joy in watching her Mistress shape the future not just with firepower, but with intellect.

She had seen Elara in battle—unstoppable, untouchable, divine.

Now, she was witnessing a different kind of power.

And Kael, always by her side, vowed to keep learning—until she could stand not only as Elara's sword, but also her forge.