Dr. H. M. Zaraki
10:24 CST
November 5, 2030
S.A.F. Sanctuary Construction Site.
Forest City, IA.
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Sighing, I stared at the vast, empty concrete pad laid down two weeks ago. Months behind schedule, the site mocked me with its stillness, a stark contrast to the chaos consuming the rest of my life. Between wrangling orders for the Free States’ shiny new military complex, untangling Clark’s political messes, and carving out time for my family, I was stretched thinner than the veil between realms. And now? Now, they wanted a Thanksgiving Celebration. Naturally, Clark decided SkyTeam should be the pièce de résistance.
After effectively ordering Staroko to Knoxville, I did the only reasonable thing: I made myself scarce. The emails pouring in from them told me everything I needed to know—pissed didn’t even begin to cover it.
Forest City was my escape. Far from the swirling insanity of World War III, it gave me a chance to breathe—or at least to try. On a normal day, jumping across the globe was enough to make any mortal’s nerves fray, but juggling a global war alongside supernatural upheaval? Let’s just say, I was teetering on the edge of a full-on meltdown. And this war wasn’t even about body counts. No, this time it was the tech—lethal, unpredictable, and as volatile as the idiots wielding it.
At least I’d learned from the last two world wars. This time, the souls of the fallen were automatically collected into a holding area I designed. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented them from being used for nefarious purposes or upsetting the delicate balance I fought to maintain. The system worked—though sorting through the mess post-war would be another Herculean task. After decades trapped in the Soul Realm, I’d figured out one inescapable truth: I couldn’t stop humans from slaughtering each other, but I could at least teach some to value life.
That was the purpose of the sanctuary. A refuge for the lost—primarily supernaturals, though humans were welcome if they could keep their prejudices in check. Ever since the reveal of supernaturals to the world, acceptance had been… uneven. Thankfully, Staroko had stepped up to create a haven for displaced wolves, establishing a pack for those in need. But wolves weren’t the only ones seeking shelter.
It was the perfect spot for the sanctuary. Back when I acquired Pilot Knob State Park from a cash-strapped Iowa government, the then-governor had no clue what I intended. I simply promised it wouldn’t be desecrated by commercial developers. Years later, with supernaturals no longer a secret, I revealed my true plans to the new governor. Naturally, he balked at the idea—until I arranged a little introduction.
When my adopted son landed in full dragon form on the state capitol lawn, the governor had a... change of perspective. A jet-black dragon, towering over his staff and radiating military precision, tends to have that effect. The fact that Zen was not only a former special forces operative but also the leader of his elite unit added a certain gravitas. Let’s just say the governor was listening very closely after that.
I offered Zen the job of running the sanctuary. He hesitated at first, reluctant to leave his thunder. As the Primus Draco, his thunder was his family, and for a dragon, family was his ultimate hoard. Knowing this, I played my hand carefully. “Think of it as expanding your hoard,” I told him. It took some convincing, but the deal was sealed when he met his two nieces. Seeing Celestia and Seren’s unbridled enthusiasm as they clambered over him was all it took. His soft spot for family won out, and he agreed.
“Father,” Zen’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and commanding as ever. “Are you going to stand out here all day staring at the lack of progress, or will you come inside to discuss the floor plans?”
“Yes, I’m coming,” I replied, calm and measured. I turned to see him framed in the doorway of the office trailer, his forest-green reptilian eyes gleaming with curiosity. The morning sunlight caught his dark, nearly black hair, giving it a faint shimmer. He was still adjusting to life outside his fatigues, but I had to admit—Zen cleaned up well. The suit, tailored to perfection, transformed him into a polished businessman, a far cry from the soldier he had been. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.
I followed him inside, stepping into the makeshift home and office he’d set up within the trailer. Zen was already leaning over a large table, poring over the blueprints for the sanctuary. The structure had been a point of contention between us for weeks. We’d debated everything—design, aesthetics, and functionality—before finally settling on a fifteen-story cylindrical tower.
The design struck a balance between form and function. The top floor would be ours, offering a commanding view of the surrounding sanctuary. Most of the other floors would house apartments, providing secure and comfortable living spaces. The first four floors, however, were dedicated to community spaces: a bar, a restaurant, a theater and lounge, and the main lobby, complete with a small store for essential supplies. It wasn’t just a sanctuary; it was a self-sustaining hub for connection, healing, and life.
“So, we’re still deciding on the aesthetics, correct?” Zen asked, eyes narrowing as he studied the blueprints.
“Yes. I’m thinking medieval with a modern twist. It’ll make the building stand out and add a magical vibe,” I replied, almost dreamily as I imagined the finished structure.
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“This isn’t Disney, Father. There’s no need to make it feel like it,” Zen grumbled, a touch of disdain edging his voice.
“Are you still sore about that Disneyland trip?” I teased, the corners of my mouth curling into a smirk.
“Immensely,” he replied flatly, his tone deadpan.
I rolled my eyes, refocusing on the blueprints. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t have too many mouse ears, then.”
Zen sighed and shifted the conversation. “Are you really sure you want to build the sanctuary right over your private labs—and your soul chamber?” His voice dropped low, as if the very thought might be too unorthodox.
“As much as you think it’s a terrible idea, it’s a perfect one,” I answered, my tone calm but firm. “When you give someone who’s lost everything a place to call home, they’ll fight for it. Protect it. Building it over my labs and chamber ensures that it’s not just a home; it’s a fortress.”
“That sounds… manipulative, Father,” Zen pointed out, his gaze not quite meeting mine.
“Not at all,” I responded, leaning back slightly. “I’m not forcing them to fight for me. I’m simply offering them something worth fighting for. And in return, they offer me built-in protection.”
Zen shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he moved to his desk, grabbing his coffee mug. He took a sip, then leveled a knowing look at me. “You know, some days, I think you're one of the most devious beings I’ve ever met.”
“That’s rich, coming from a dragon,” I shot back with a smirk, letting my sarcasm hang in the air.
“Oh?” Zen raised an eyebrow.
“Do you have any idea how many times you’ve manipulated me while I raised you?” I countered, my voice just shy of playful.
Zen chuckled again, setting his mug down with a gentle clink. “I’ve pulled some fast ones on you, Father.”
“Oh, I know,” I replied flatly, raising a brow. “Being over two thousand years old, I’ve learned a few things, Zen. One of those lessons is this: home is home. You’ll fight tooth and nail for it. Always.”
“Sadly, you’re right,” Zen admitted, his voice taking on an oddly wistful tone. “I watched Stoneclaw nearly lose it when the Army demanded we leave Fort Liberty for Fort Moore. He had just finished setting up his library—it was perfect. That man hates change.”
I grinned, leaning forward slightly. “Ah, the drama of library building. Never a dull moment with you lot.”
Zen pulled out his phone, checking something quickly.
“Speaking of dull moments… are you going to the celebration? I asked.
“Do I have to?” Zen asked, his voice an almost comical whine. “You know I don’t do well in crowds.”
“Your thunder will be there,” I pointed out.
“They’re not my thunder anymore,” he shot back, crossing his arms. “They belong to Stoneclaw now. I stepped down, remember?”
“They’re still your family, Zen,” I said, my exasperation creeping in.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they want to see me…” Zen huffed, eyes rolling as he avoided my gaze.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “The twins will be there.”
“Celestia and Seren?” Zen confirmed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I suppose I’ll go, then,” he muttered. I could see the corners of his lips twitching, the smallest grin fighting to escape. Despite his protests, Zen loved spending time with his nieces. As much as he pretended to be above it all, they had a way of softening even his most rigid corners.
Zen’s reluctance wasn’t just about his dislike of crowds. It was about something deeper, something only he fully understood. Star, for example, still hadn’t fully forgiven me for keeping Zen’s adoption a secret. Explaining to a five-year-old that her older brother was a dragon? Yeah. I think not. And as for explaining the existence of supernaturals to an innocent child... that was another matter entirely.
“I’m glad to hear that. Are you packed and ready?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.
“Wait… what?” Zen’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to full-blown exasperation.
“Well, the celebration is only a few days away,” I replied with a grin. “Star and Cayro have set up a place for us to stay while they handle the rest of the preparations.”
“But… I thought it was in a few days?” he protested, his voice tinged with suspicion.
I snorted. “That doesn’t mean you can’t help with the setup.”
The sour look he shot me was priceless—practically worth the hassle of dragging him into this mess. Zen loathed holiday setup with a passion. To him, holidays were a baffling exercise in waste. Why spend exorbitant amounts of money on gifts no one truly appreciated? And Thanksgiving? Oh, that one really fried his circuits. The idea of having a holiday for giving thanks a month before a holiday about material excess made him mutter, “Counterproductive,” every single year.
To a dragon like Zen, eating was just survival. A meal was something to be grateful for every day, not a spectacle of gorging yourself once a year. Frankly, I agreed with him on some of those points, but dragging him into the chaos was a time-honored tradition at this point.
“Get your stuff together, Zen,” I said, cutting off his impending lecture. “Just because you don’t understand Thanksgiving doesn’t mean you can’t come spend time with family.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, a slight growl rumbling in his throat. “What about the site? We still have work to do.”
“The site will still be here when we get back,” I replied, shrugging. “Besides, everything’s on hold until after the holidays.”
Grumbling under his breath, Zen stalked off to the room he’d converted into a bedroom. Moments later, I heard drawers slamming and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being yanked shut. Leaning back against the table, I glanced at the blueprints again, letting a small smile cross my face. One day he’d thank me for this… probably. The real question was how long it would take him to admit it.
A few minutes later, Zen emerged, duffle bag in hand. As he headed for the door, I noticed him slipping off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked, one eyebrow arching in suspicion.
“Shifting,” he replied cautiously, like it was the most logical thing in the world.
“Why?” I pressed.
“So I can fly to Knoxville,” he said, like I was asking why the sky was blue.
“No,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. “Put your jacket back on. We’re traveling through the Soul Realm.”
Zen froze, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to outright horror. “Ugh… I hate traveling through the Soul Realm. It gives me the creeps.”
“It’s not that bad,” I replied, waving his concern away. “Star does it all the time, and you don’t hear her complaining.”
Zen let out an indignant snort, clearly not pleased with the comparison. He hated being compared to his younger sister, and I was pretty sure Star knew it—and used it to her full advantage. If there was a rivalry simmering between them, I wouldn’t bet against Star being the instigator.
Reluctantly, Zen slipped his jacket back on, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Fine, but I’m not happy about it.” Once he was ready, I reached out, slicing open a rift into the Soul Realm. Holding my arm out in mock chivalry, I gestured for him to go first.
Zen shot me one last glare before stepping into the swirling portal. “You owe me for this,” he grumbled as he disappeared.
I followed close behind, sealing the rift behind us with a satisfied smirk. Oh, Zen. If only you knew how much I enjoyed moments like these.