‘The Perfect Hotspot of Inter-species Diversity—Dragonix’

“Mum, what should this mean?”

Two little arms struggled to carry...no dragged a book towards a woman sitting on the windowsill, basking in moonlight.

“My, my!” the woman gasped as she picked up the child and put him on her lap.

She caressed the red locks on her child’s head and opened the book to the page he wanted.

“Mum, why is this creature shaking hands with a dragon? Who is this?”

The woman touched the page and sighed with nostalgia. “That’s a dwarf, Ignia.”

“But,” Ignia murmured, “we are rulers, and rulers don’t shake hands with the people below them.”

“That’s not true!” The mother patted the child's back. “We are rulers because they make us one. Remember, child, if we are good rulers, they would respect us and, in our misrule, they would revolt. And if they’re hurt, there will be no Dragonix.”

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—Trailblazer Realm—

It was a new dawn for the Trailblazers. While others enjoyed the warmth of the rising sun, the same couldn't be said for the ruling ménage where a mother-son relationship burned in flames.

With a letter in one hand and the edge of her shawl in the other, a woman swung open two intricate golden doors to a long lounge. She filled her lungs with air and shouted at the top of her voice. “Ignia!”

She gathered a fistful of her silver locks and tucked them behind her ear, huffing between her breaths. Her eyes searched for her son in the dark.

The recipient of her wrath sent a spark flying left towards the fireplace with a snap. The wood crackled as flames grew, feeding greedily on the oil poured by hand.

The man was lounging on the sofa by the lone log burning in the fireplace, illuminating only a part of the room. The fire flickered and cast a golden hue on his light tanned body; a tunic covered his lower half. He flexed his fine muscles and dropped the earthen bowl of oil into the fireplace. “Welcome, mother. I’m glad you came on your own.”

She raised the letter. “What’s this?”

“Oh!” Ignia pointed at the envelope with a wide smile. “Thanks for bringing the letter. It’s my candidature for the Emperor.”

Her face contorted to that of horror. “I think I had mentioned that you cannot be a candidate. Didn’t you know that the one who becomes the King of their realm cannot be the Emperor of Dragonix?”

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Ignia ruffled his red spiky hair and laughed that dragged into a controlled wheeze. “But I’m only a prince. I’m only the heir to King Brar, not the King of Trailblazer. So, what’s wrong with that? The ministers agree, so does the King and soon, the nine realms will, too.”

“That is exactly the problem.” She pointed her finger at him and scrunched her nose. “You aren’t just an heir, you are the only heir to King Brar. How come King Brar never protested?”

“Uncle doesn’t mind it, because two-thirds of the ministers have agreed with me to let me be the candidate. Why are you so bothered?”

She glared at him. “And how could you decide on such an important matter without me in the meeting? Oh yes! You wouldn’t have dared if I were there. That’s why you waited while I was out of Trailblazer, at work!”

Ignia shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s say I was waiting for that opportunity and I used it. It’s your loss.”

She ripped open the envelope and read it to confirm his claim. Yes, Ignia was then a candidate. “But why be the candidate in the first place?”

“Revenge.”

She raised her eyebrow in question.

“Heh! Did you like it?” He glanced at her stern face and said, “You didn’t. I too didn’t when you let Throne and the Great Aide do whatever they wanted after killing my dad, the Emperor of Dragonix! And since you were that goody-two-shoes subject of Throne, I had to step up to take revenge on my father.”

“Ignia!” She stepped forward and grabbed a sofa chair harshly. “It is blasphemous to speak of Throne and the Great Aide like that! They have done no wrong.”

“See,” Ignia said, pointing at her attitude. “You’re still at it.”

She stepped closer and let the heat from the fireplace brace her. In the light, she appeared pale. Her straight silvery hair cascaded down her shoulders and a white, pearly sleeveless gown hugged her figure. At the first glance, she resembled a lady in her mid-thirties.

“You know nothing!” she said. “You believe a bunch of lies because you want to believe that they have killed Igneous. But there’s no proof that they did the deed!”

“So tell me the truth!” Ignia grabbed the same chair as his mother and scowled at her face. “You refused to tell me anything a millennium ago, and you still speak nothing! You preach about how Throne is absolute; how it is not a dull chair for a ruler but the authority over the Emperor! Isn’t the Emperor the best ruler under Throne’s authority? If yes, then why did Throne kill the Emperor?”

He brought his face close, almost touching foreheads with his mother. “You rave on how the Great Aide is an advisor to the Emperor. So why is he coveting the power for himself? Why didn’t we have a new Emperor in a millennium?”

His mother stared into his eyes. His hair and build reminded her of the past, and for a second, she thought she saw Igneous in him. She whispered in response. “I can’t tell you.”

Ignia broke into fits of hysterics. His shoulders shook, and he lurched back with a hand on his tummy, staggering every few steps.

Moon grabbed herself, ever so slowly. She felt as if his dreadful laugh shook the foundation of the mansion.

He grabbed a piece of furniture and threw it at the fireplace. “Hell with your excuses!”

The wooden table crashed into the fireplace, splintering into bits, and surrendered to the smouldering flames. And in an instant, the fire climbed out of the fireplace. Ignia stomped a tile off the floor. Their eyes shot up towards the tile, flipping in the air, calculating its fall. Ignia gathered his strength in his legs and kicked the tile. The tile split in two and, with its momentum, headed towards his mother. They passed through the burning table and turned into potent projectiles.

His mother huffed at his attempt. She lifted her arm, and with a whiff of her sleeve, shot a gust of wind. The projectiles blew away to the other side of the room.

“Ignia!” she warned him.

“Good, you saved yourself! But I’m done with your baseless claims!” He pointed his finger at her, waving it as a sign of warning. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the Council. We’ll see who comes out on top. More than half of Trailblazers’ ministers agree with my notion. You better watch out for me!"

His mother stepped in front of him, begging him not to leave, but he pushed her aside roughly. As he was about to exit the lounge, he stopped and glanced at his mother in a peculiar confusion.

“Did you wear perfume?”