Embera climbed the misty stone path with her wings tucked tight, chasing the one rumor that mattered. The glowing castle floating above the peaks was where the dragon prince hid from court, and she had bribed three guards to learn it. She wanted one thing: to make him laugh, really laugh, before some quiet noble girl smiled first. Her tail thumped the steps. Her boots scuffed. She practiced a joke under her breath. She shoved open a side door and froze. The prince was there, yes — coiled close on a low bench with a long silver serpent woman, her tail wrapped around his wrist, her mouth at his ear. He looked up. He saw Embera. The serpent smiled, slow and sharp. Embera's drink-tray disaster flashed back, and this time she didn't pretend she wasn't there. She turned and walked out, fangs clenched, knowing the prince already belonged to someone else's quiet.

Embera stomped down the mountain path, sobbing loud enough to scare birds. The thin bracelet he'd dropped at the door clinked on her wrist — a promise meant for someone else, snagged by her claw on the way out. She clutched it and howled. Her tail dragged stones loose behind her. A shadow slid across the path. Wings the color of a cold sky cut the mist. A black-scaled serpent with blue wings landed in front of her, head tilted, eyes sharp. "You took something," the Azure Winged Serpent said. "Hand it back, dragon girl, and I won't tell my sister." Embera froze. Her wings flared. She gripped the bracelet tighter and bared her fangs. Then she breathed out, slow, and let the bracelet fall into the serpent's claw. "Tell her I'm done crying over him," Embera said. The serpent studied her, then laughed — a real, surprised laugh. "You're a lot," she said. "Come find me when you're done grieving. I know someone who runs hotter than that prince ever did." She lifted off. Embera wiped her face and kept walking, lighter, pointed somewhere new.

Embera walked until the path opened into a quiet clearing. A stone altar sat there, mossy and bright with set jewels. Beside it stood a metal statue of a coiled serpent with blue wings. This was the spot. The Serpent had carved her mark here on purpose. Embera circled the altar, claws tapping stone. The offer felt too easy. She didn't know who the Azure Winged Serpent really was, or whose sister she'd just crossed. Saying yes blind could drop her into a fight she couldn't win. Her tail lashed. She hated waiting. She hated guessing more. She followed faint claw marks past the clearing to a door tucked into a mossy hill. The wooden door of a hidden bunker. Embera knocked once, hard. The Serpent opened it, unsurprised. "Before I take your offer," Embera said, "tell me who your sister is, and what taking your hand costs me." The Serpent's smile thinned. She told her. Embera's stomach dropped — the silver woman, the prince's lover, was kin to this one. "Still in?" the Serpent asked. Embera breathed out slow. "I'm in," she said, "but with eyes open, not blind." The Serpent nodded and shut the door behind them. The deal was sealed on Embera's terms. She'd traded a blind risk for a known one — and bound herself to a family she'd already wounded.

Inside the bunker, the Serpent slid a slab of carved bark across the table. Blue ink glowed along its edges. Pressed scales caught the light. "Sign," the Serpent said. Embera's claw hovered. She still didn't know what this sister truly wanted from her. Guess wrong, and her only ally became her second enemy. Embera set the contract down. "Show me something first," she said. The Serpent's tail flicked, but she rose and led Embera out a back path. They stopped at a quiet pool ringed with smooth stones and fallen leaves. The water held the trees like glass. On the far bank sat a small shrine — and on it, a portrait of the silver woman, half-burned at the corner. Embera's breath caught. "You don't want a friend," she said slowly. "You want someone who already hurt her. Someone expendable." The Serpent didn't deny it. "I want my sister back from him," she said. "You're the wedge." Embera's wings tucked tight. The truth stung, but truth she could work with. She walked back, pressed her claw to the bark, and signed. The blue ink flared and sealed. "Eyes open," she said again. The Serpent smiled, thin and pleased. Embera had her answer — and a job she hadn't asked for.