On day ten, Hanjoon woke in a panic. His heart raced, his breath shallow as he sat upright in bed, instinctively scanning his quarters. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it in his bones—the Wildflower had stopped moving.

The ship was still.

He dressed in a rush, his mind racing as he tried to shake the heavy feeling settling over him. His quarters were far more modest than Magnolia’s, but the simplicity of them did little to calm the unease that gnawed at him. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew he had to act.

Without hesitation, Hanjoon left his room, his boots thudding softly against the corridor floors as he made his way down the halls. He could feel the weight of the ship around him, and it felt… different. Silent. Alive, yet not quite alive.

As he rounded a corner, In-Su appeared, his usual calm face creased with tension. His dark eyes locked with Hanjoon’s, a wordless understanding passing between them. Without a word, they both quickened their pace, moving toward the observation deck.

Then, as they arrived, they saw it.

Beyond the massive windows, floating in the vastness of space, was a colossal structure—a forge, ancient and crumbling, but unmistakable in its design. It had a presence, as though it was not merely abandoned but waiting for something… or someone.

“Is that…?” In-Su began, but his voice trailed off. The sight was too immense, too otherworldly for easy comprehension.

Hanjoon’s heart hammered in his chest as his amber eyes locked onto the forge. His dragon blood stirred. He felt it, deep within him, an instinctive pull toward the forge. His throat tightened, and for the briefest moment, he felt the overwhelming desire to let go of his human form. To spread his wings, feel the power of flight, and embrace his true nature.

The forge.

It was a relic from a time long ago, when dragons crafted weapons and artifacts that were said to hold unimaginable power. Hanjoon didn’t know how, but he knew the forge was tied to his past. A past he had tried to forget, but one that called to him now, like an old wound reopening.

The feeling was sharp, painful even. His dragon instincts roared to life within him, yearning for the release of his true form. But he resisted. There was too much at stake now, too much that had changed.

“Is that a Dragon Forge?” In-Su asked, his voice softer now, as if he, too, could sense the same ancient pull.

Hanjoon nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the forge. “It is. But… it’s abandoned.” His voice was quiet, thick with something unspoken. The forge had once been a place of creation, of strength, a place where dragons forged artifacts of legend. But now, it was a relic, lost in time.

Hanjoon’s mind raced as he looked at the structure, torn between his need to investigate it and the hesitation that gripped him. Could he trust it? What if the forge held more than just memories—it could hold dangers, or something worse. He wasn’t sure. But the pull was undeniable.

“We need to get closer,” Hanjoon said, his voice low, as if giving in to the instinct that pushed him forward.

In-Su hesitated, sensing the gravity of the moment. “You feel it, don’t you?” he asked, his voice edged with concern. “The pull?”

Hanjoon’s eyes flicked toward him, filled with the fire of old memories. “I do. And I have to know what’s inside.”

Before they could speak further, the ship’s intercom buzzed, and Sela’s voice cut through the tension. “Hanjoon, In-Su, come to the bridge. We need to talk.”

In that moment, it was clear: the crew would have to make a choice. Whatever was hidden within that forge would change everything. And it was drawing them in, pulling them closer to something both ancient and dangerous.

“Let’s go,” Hanjoon said, turning toward the door. But his heart remained behind, pulsing with the urge to return to the forge, to uncover what lay hidden within its walls. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a relic. It was calling to him.

And he knew, deep down, that he could never ignore it again.

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Hanjoon and In-Su stepped onto the bridge, where the rest of the crew had already gathered. Lee was standing near the main console, his brow furrowed as he scanned the readings on the ship’s sensors. Han lingered nearby, pacing in his usual restless manner. Sela leaned against the railing, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face a mask of barely contained anxiety.

“Where’s Magnolia?” Hanjoon asked, his amber eyes darting around the room.

“She’s still in the navigation room,” Sela replied. “She hasn’t come out since yesterday.”

“Of course she hasn’t,” Lee muttered, not looking up from the console. “But we have bigger issues right now.”

Hanjoon crossed the bridge, standing beside Lee to get a better look at the readings. The holographic display showed the enormous structure looming ahead of them. The Dragon Forge. Up close, its intricate carvings and shimmering metallic surfaces were both awe-inspiring and foreboding.

“What are we looking at?” Hanjoon asked, though he already knew the answer. He just needed confirmation.

“Anomalous energy readings,” Lee said. “Off the charts. Whatever that thing is, it’s still active—barely, but enough to make me nervous.”

“It’s ancient,” Han added, pausing his pacing to lean against Lee’s chair. “But not dead. And, uh, it feels... weird, doesn’t it?” He gestured vaguely, as if the words to describe the sensation escaped him.

“It’s not just you,” Sela said quietly. “There’s something about it. It’s... alive, somehow. Not in the way Wildflower is, but close.”

In-Su nodded, his dark eyes lingering on the display. “Magnolia’s not the only one connected to old things, you know,” he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “This place—it feels tied to something ancient, something powerful. If we’re going to approach it, we need to be ready.”

Hanjoon’s jaw tightened. “We don’t have a choice. It’s calling to me—like it’s a part of me.”

Sela’s gaze snapped to him, sharp with concern. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It’s not supposed to,” Hanjoon admitted, his voice low and tense. “But we’re here now. Whatever’s in there, we need to find out before the Syndicate does.”

“You think they’re after this too?” Han asked, his usual humor absent.

“Of course they are,” Lee said grimly. “Whatever’s in there is powerful enough to draw us in. You think they’d just ignore it?”

Hanjoon straightened, his dragon instincts simmering just below the surface. “We need Magnolia. She’s the only one who can decide if we move forward.”

“And she’s not here,” Sela pointed out, her voice edged with frustration. “She’s been locked away with that orb for days. Who knows if she’ll even listen?”

“She’ll listen,” Hanjoon said firmly, heading for the exit. “I’ll get her.”

The others watched as he left, the weight of the decision settling heavily on all of them. Whatever lay ahead, it wasn’t just a mystery—they all felt it. It was a challenge, and possibly, a trap.

Hanjoon reached Magnolia’s door and froze. The subtle red glow of the lock indicator was unmistakable. The doors were sealed tight—a feature of the ship that, as far as he knew, had never been used. Magnolia’s quarters had always been open, a space where anyone could come to her, whether for guidance or comfort.

“Magnolia,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the door. “It’s Hanjoon. Open up.”

There was no response.

He frowned and tried again, this time with a touch of force. “Magnolia, we need you. It’s urgent.”

Still nothing. His unease deepened. Magnolia wasn’t the type to shut herself away, not even in the darkest moments. For her to do this now, with the Forge looming ahead, sent an icy prickle down his spine.

He turned to the smooth, curved wall of the corridor, laying his palm against it. “Wildflower,” he said softly. “Let me in.”

The ship hummed faintly under his touch, almost as if considering his request, but the doors remained locked.

“Wildflower,” he repeated, his voice sharpening. “She can’t shut us out like this. We need her.”

This time, the hum shifted, almost apologetically. The ship wasn’t going to budge. Hanjoon drew back his hand, his jaw tightening. Magnolia had made sure the lock was absolute. Whatever was going on in there, it wasn’t meant for anyone else. Not yet.

Footsteps approached from behind. He turned to see In-Su, his expression clouded with the same concern. “Locked?” the dancer asked, nodding toward the sealed doors.

Hanjoon’s nod was grim. “Locked. The ship won’t override it.”

In-Su sighed, glancing at the door. “It’s bad, isn’t it? Whatever’s going on in there.”

“Yeah,” Hanjoon muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s been too quiet, too distant. And now this? It’s not like her.”

“What do we do?” In-Su asked.

“We wait,” Hanjoon said reluctantly, his gaze fixed on the closed doors. “For now. But if this goes on too long…” He let the thought trail off, unwilling to voice the next step. Breaking into her quarters wasn’t something he wanted to consider. Not yet.

In-Su gave him a steady look. “She’s strong. Whatever this is, she’ll come through.”

Hanjoon wanted to believe that. He had to. But as they turned to head back to the bridge, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense that time was running out. Something was brewing inside Magnolia’s quarters, and he had no idea if they were ready for what would happen when she finally came out.