It was the kind of awkward situation Riley wasn’t sure about.
Unfortunately for him, the universe had other plans. Because sowhere far from the roaring flas and raw power that could have leveled a continent, a certain dragonling had his own disaster to deal with.
The actual birthday boy. The original reason why Riley and Kael were even back there with those wretched beings.
And his problem?
Not the collapse of clans. Not the shrieking of elders. Not even the terrifying aura of the Dragon Lord himself.
No. His problem was this:
"Sluuuuurp."
"!!!"
The sound ripped through the quiet like a knife through silk.
The drawing room had been utterly still a second ago. Liam sat comfortably in his corner, legs folded, his beloved handheld glowing faintly in his small hands. A plate of biscuits lounged lazily beside him. His jug of orange juice sat faithfully within arm’s reach, straw sticking out like a tiny flag of peace.
All was right in his world.
Until that sound.
That dreadful, chilling, unholy sound.
"SLUUUUUUUURP."
The unmistakable sound of soone draining a drink down to its very last molecule.
Liam froze.
Very slowly, very carefully, he turned his head toward the jug. Because save for him, the drawing room should have been empty. Absolutely empty. No one else was supposed to be in here.
And yet...
The straw.
The straw was moving.
Being slurped.
By air.
No—by sothing invisible.
Liam’s wide eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He stared, transfixed, as the juice inside the jug visibly went down, the straw rattling with the violent, desperate gasps of a drink being finished by soone who had no concept of dignity.
"SLUUP."
Again. Like so final note of betrayal.
Liam nearly scread.
Instead, his hands flailed, biscuits almost scattering across the floor as he squeaked out a noise sowhere between a gasp and a dying animal. His handheld nearly toppled out of his lap, the screen flashing GA OVER in rciless red letters.
The culprit?
Orien Vathros.
The very dragonling of the hour, cloaked in magic, was practically welded to the jug like his survival depended on it. This invisible nace had already made short work of Liam’s biscuits.
But then disaster struck.
When the little people inside the kid’s handheld suddenly keeled over, Orien panicked. He nearly choked on the very biscuit he had "borrowed." In his distress, he lunged for the juice, desperate for a sip that might save him from both suffocation and humiliation.
But then, to his horror, he realized that thing that the kid used to drink made noise.
A lot of noise.
The second suck nearly broke him. It rattled through the silence like a ghost haunting a temple. Worse, when he tried to stop—when he tried to leave the straw alone—his throat betrayed him. A hiccup almost escaped, making the straw squeal like a dying bird.
"Sluup-urp!"
"!!!"
Liam’s jaw dropped. His small body tensed like he was about to bolt. But then, instead of running, his hand moved automatically toward the jug, trembling fingers stretching out.
Because if a ghost was stealing his juice, he was at least going to catch it in the act.
Orien, invisible and sweating magic, stared in panic as the little human’s hand ca dangerously close. He scrambled, his tiny claws fumbling for the straw, his tail hitting the floor with a thump he prayed no one noticed.
Their eyes t.
Well. Sort of.
Liam’s wide, horrified gaze locked onto the straw that floated mysteriously in the air.
And Orien, realizing his concealnt wasn’t perfect anymore, froze mid-sip, like a cat caught in the act of stealing fish from the table.
The straw twitched.
The silence deepened.
Liam whispered the only logical thing his brain could muster:
"...ghost juice thief?"
Orien almost choked.
The silence cracked like glass.
Because the "ghost juice thief" hiccuped.
Loudly.
"HIC–!"
The straw shot out like a spear. Orange droplets splattered across the table. Liam scread. Orien scread louder. Which was impressive, considering only one of them was supposed to be invisible.
"AAAAHHHHH!"
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
For one glorious, ridiculous mont, it was just two children shrieking at each other in a soundproofed room—except one was cloaked in magic, clutching the jug like it was holy treasure, and the other was a brave little human who thought he was being haunted by the thirstiest ghost in existence.
Finally, Liam’s fear short-circuited into curiosity. He narrowed his eyes, pushed his handheld aside, and said firmly, "You’re not a ghost."
Because a ghost couldn’t possibly be more scared than him, right?
Just then, the straw twitched guiltily.
"I knew it!" Liam declared, puffing out his chest despite his initial fear. "You’re sothing else. Show yourself! I-I’m not scared!"
His brother was with the Dragon Lord! If he just stayed alive, he’d be able to ask for help!
Orien, who had been given only one directive, was instantly alard. He tried to sound fierce, snapping, "You should be!"—but his voice cracked halfway through, turning it into more squeak than threat.
Liam blinked. "...You sound like a kitten."
"I–I do not!" Orien squeaked, his voice cracking in pure outrage. He sounded insulted to his very core. "Small, weak, useless creatures! They even vomit hair! I am none of those things!"
His magic wavered for half a heartbeat, enough for Liam to glimpse twitching ears and a tail flick, but Orien imdiately clamped down, vanishing again with a furious huff.
Liam’s jaw dropped, his eyes glowing with childlike wonder. "You’re a—!"
"No! I am nothing! I never said anything!" Orien shouted, scrambling backward as the jug clattered against the table. "You didn’t see anything! You saw nothing! I’m majestic, terrifying, and—" He hiccuped mid-sentence. "—completely invisible!"
Before Liam could say anything, the space around the biscuits rustled. Crumbs skittered across the plate. Then the sound of frantic little claws pattered across the floor. Orien was running—well, running in circles—trying to escape like a thief caught mid-heist.
"Stop right there!" Liam shouted, jumping to his feet. He had no idea where the giant cat had gone, but he was smart enough to aim his words like bait. "I’ve got more snacks! And another jug of juice!"
The invisible pattering froze.
Liam smirked. "Biggest jug you’ve ever seen. Straw, too."
There was silence. Then—just faintly—the sound of an ear twitch that grazed a wall.
Orien, proud and prideful and definitely not catlike, gave a lofty sniff. "You think I’d fall for that? I’m above snacks. I’m above juice." His trembling voice betrayed him, the words wobbling like bubbles instead of a roar, and his stubby claws made pitiful scratching sounds as if he were announcing his might to the floorboards.
"Uh-huh," Liam said, casually reaching for the plate. "Guess I’ll just eat all these honey biscuits myself then..."
A sharp intake of breath cut the air.
"...and drink all the juice without sharing."
"Y-you wouldn’t dare!" Orien’s voice cracked like a twig.
"Oh, I would," Liam said smugly, folding his arms like a pint-sized general.
The invisible nace growled low in his throat, a sound that might’ve been terrifying if not for how high-pitched it was. "Fine! But only because you clearly can’t handle them all yourself!"
Liam grinned, cheeks flushed with the simple, unspoken pride of a boy who had succeeded.
anwhile, Orien still refused to drop the magic cloaking him in invisibility. But the way the straw twitched toward him like a compass needle told Liam everything he needed to know.
The unusual giant cat was a glutton.
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