Despite all their searching, no one ever discovered the identity of the cloaked figure on the roof. After a while, interest in her waned given that the attacks had stopped. Whoever those humans worked for, whatever crazy group they belonged to, kept quiet and fell back into obscurity.

Despite beefed-up security at the Silver compound, no one so much as peeked in their direction. Much to their chagrin.

Of Samael, not a single trace was found. No one currently knew his whereabouts or his plans. Remiel wanted to hunt him but was stopped.

The advisor to the king, the very wise Silver, Waida, held Remiel back. “A king has more important things to worry about than a truant brother,” she said.

And yet, he couldn’t help but worry even as life went on.

With Anastasia gone and the Crimsons weakened by a lack of leader, they no longer had an interest in the next king and queen.

The ceremony to crown the Golden king went off without a hitch and was attended by everyone of importance from presidents to heads of Septs. Even some of the lesser races were invited, including shifters.

Sue-Ellen wisely had the dog treats and balls for fetching hidden before the shifter contingents’ arrival. More than a few dragon faces scowled that she’d ruined their fun.

The massive feast was catered by some lion’s pride looking to curry favor. Thick steaks, plentiful sides, and the most decadent desserts were offered, along with the most expensive of wines.

A good time was had by all, especially Remiel, who spent two weeks honeymooning with his angel on some isle.

For a while, things were good. The humans were fascinated by the royal pair. A tenuous peace existed around the world between humans, cryptozoids, and dragons.

The future seemed bright.

About eight months after the rooftop showdown—eight months of taking Sue-Ellen on a whirlwind tour of the planet—his angel gave birth to twins, a girl and a boy with crowning tufts of blond hair.

The pregnancy wasn’t exactly planned; however, that first time they were together proved fruitful. So very fruitful.

But, thankfully, Sue-Ellen didn’t mind. Since bonding with her new beast, she’d changed her view on certain things. For example, she now claimed the world revolved around her, not him.

She was right, and he gladly worshipped his queen.

Despite her initial trepidation, Sue-Ellen embraced the birth of their children and took to motherhood with enthusiasm. Now, if only Remiel could figure out how she did it so effortlessly. He struggled to be a good father. Especially during moments like now.

Remiel uttered a royal commandment. “Stop crying. I command thee.”

The two most perfect angels, with eyes of pure gold, stared back at him, and continued to wail. And wail loudly. They possessed mighty sets of lungs. So mighty that his ears hurt.

Remiel shot a panicked thought at his wife.

“They aren’t obeying!”

“That shouldn’t surprise you given they’re your progeny,” Sue-Ellen said, not even trying to hide her mirth as she stepped into the room. “They need their diapers changed, which means you need to grab some wet wipes and a clean pair of diapers.”

“Don’t we have nannies for that?” He waved his hand in the direction of the miasma permeating from his ever-so-perfect children.

“It’s their night off. So guess what, Daddy, you get to pitch in.”

“A king doesn’t wipe poop.”

“A king will wipe poop if he ever wants sex again,” she sassed nicely. “And don’t forget the powder.”

It was utterly undignified the things he did for his wife.

My queen.

But worth it. The riches he’d accumulated since his escape paled in comparison to the woman who had accepted him as mate.

Every day, she reminded him why life was worth living to the fullest, and now she’d given him two extra reasons.

Two golden-haired dynamos with so much untapped potential. Many called him the dragon foretold, but looking at his progeny, Remiel had to wonder. The peace brokered with the other cryptozoids of note was tenuous at best. It wouldn’t take much to topple. Anarchy lurked, waiting to pounce.

I can’t wait.

The dragons had returned to the world, and it was their turn to rule.

* * *

The world wasn’t burning.

Yet.

But the day crept ever closer.

It amused to watch the pretenders thinking they owned the throne. Ruling over their territory as if they had rights. Silly little ants really in the grand scheme of things.

The darkness of the cloak flowed as steps moved the body toward a hump in the corner.

Gold scales, dull and matted with filth and despair, rustled in agitation. A hand reached out to touch the prize. The captive dragon flinched, the head rearing back and causing the collar around a neck to ripple the fine chain holding it down. Holding the beast prisoner.

From almost leader to pathetic ruin.

My secret weapon. But a weapon that couldn’t be revealed too soon. Things still had to move into position. But when the time came, nothing would stop the coming war.

The world would suffer wrath and vengeance.

And burn.