***Though certain names, details, and scenes have been edited or added, this story was written using Chat GPT 3.***

Dorothy stood on the rooftop of her apartment building, gazing at the sprawling city of Seattle. The autumn breeze whispered through her hair, carrying a sense of restlessness that matched the turmoil within her heart. She had spent her entire life wondering about the father she had never known, and today, she made a decision that would change her life forever. 

Clutched within her hands was a letter, crinkled and yellowed from the decades it had spent buried at the bottom of an old shoebox that had been shoved in the very back of a barely-used closet. 

The letter was from her father.

After finding this letter from her father, Dorothy decides to track him down.

Dear Sandy,

I want to say congratulations, but I know that wouldn’t be enough. I can imagine you scoffed as you read that line, didn’t you? And now you have that cute little frown on your face because you’ve always hated how much I see you. But I can’t stop. I won’t. I know you better than I know myself, and I know I always will. You have no reason to believe me, but it’s true…

I’m getting carried away, I know. I just needed you to know that you’re always in my thoughts, even now. And so is our baby girl. I heard you named her Dorothy, after your great-grandmother, the woman you so admire. Did you think I would forget that?

I also heard you haven’t returned home in months. You moved to California with Randall and haven’t been seen since, though I don’t believe the rest of the gossip about you that’s been circling around… I hope it’s not true.

I also hope that if you should ever find yourself in New York City, you’ll come to me. I would like to meet our Dorothy if you’ll let me. I know I can’t give you the life you might have wanted for us, but I’d still like to be a part of it, for however long you and our Dorothy will have me. And if either of you should ever need anything, you know I can help. 

I’ll love you always,

X

The letter was stamped with an address in New York City, and even though she knew it might be crazy, Dorothy decided she would embark on a journey across the country to find the answers she’d been seeking her whole life. 

Her mother, Sandra, had always been tight-lipped about her father's identity. She would offer vague hints and change the subject whenever Dorothy pressed her for details. Either that or she would concoct imaginative stories based on fairytales. Such as when she told Dorothy that her father was a prince from a faraway land who didn’t even know her name but still had a shoe she’d left behind in her hurry to get back before her parents realized she was gone. 

When Dorothy was a teenager, she’d been suspicious of every man who entered her mother’s orbit, wondering whether or not they could secretly be her father. But her suspicions were never confirmed. Her mother had taken her secret to the grave.

At some point, Dorothy had become comfortable with the uncertainty. In recent years, she had hardly wondered about him at all. She assumed that her father hadn’t really wanted to be one, and therefore adopted the mentality of her grandmother, who when Dorothy had inquired whether she knew who her father was, had replied,

“I have my suspicions of course, but only your mother truly knows, and I’ve made peace with that. Besides, I can’t imagine it would do anyone any good to go looking for confirmation now, would it?”

But the time for ambiguity was over. Dorothy wanted to know, and she was determined to uncover the truth—even if it meant leaving everything she knew behind.

She sold her bike and put her mother’s house in the capable hands of her best friend, Jade, who was going to fulfill her mother’s dying wish for the house by using it to host the yoga and art retreat she was conducting. Then, with a small suitcase and a pocketful of hope, Dorothy boarded a bus bound for the East Coast. 

Days turned into weeks as Dorothy journeyed across the vast expanse of America. She marveled at the ever-changing landscapes, from the misty mountains of Montana to the endless plains of Nebraska. Along the way, she encountered a colorful array of characters, each with their own stories and dreams. Their tales served as a reminder that everyone had their own journey, their own secrets waiting to be unearthed.

Dorothy sets out on a journey across the country, and meets many interesting people along the way.

Finally, the bustling city greeted her with a whirlwind of noise and lights, an overwhelming contrast to the serene Pacific Northwest she had left behind. Dorothy navigated the maze of streets, her eyes scanning each face in the crowd, searching for a connection, a hint of familiarity. All she had was the address and a single letter, X, to go on. 

Luckily, her job at the magazine afforded her plenty of resources to do some digging. Her boss was even giving her a huge break by allowing her to chase down the story and write about it. If she nailed this, not only would she finally connect with her father but she would also get to establish herself in her career. 

She rented a small apartment in Brooklyn, determined to make New York her base of operations. Armed with a tattered photograph of her mother as a teenager, the address from the letter, and the first letter of what she assumed to be her father’s name, Dorothy set out to find the man who had played a part in her existence.

After a few days of internet research and phone calls, she was able to find out that the address belonged to a modest apartment building on the Upper West Side and was owned by a man named Xavier Yamasaki. When Dorothy heard the name, she felt a tingle race up her spine and knew it was him. 

Certain she had found her father, Dorothy immediately grabbed her phone and headed out. Dorothy's heart raced as she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor apartment, anticipation and fear warring within her. She knocked on the door, and after what felt like an eternity, it swung open to reveal a man in his late fifties, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Dorothy?" he stammered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm Dorothy. I... I think you might be my father."

Tears welled in his eyes as he embraced her tightly, an emotional dam breaking within him. He led her into his apartment, where a worn leather armchair sat near a window overlooking the city. They settled into the room, and he began to recount a story Dorothy had yearned to hear her entire life.

Dorothy finally reunites with her father.

As the first-born son of a very traditional Japanese-American family, his fate had been carved for him before he was even born. His parents had determined who he would marry and how he would spend his life, and he’d been powerless to challenge them. He had spent years regretting his choices, wishing he’d had the courage to stand up to his parents, but he never stopped loving her mother, even though she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

“She was angry,” Xavier, her father, said with a solemn look in his eyes. “And she had a right to be. It wasn’t fair to her, to any of us involved.”

He explained that the woman his parents had forced him to marry was a good woman, a faithful and devoted wife and mother to their two sons. However, his wife had eventually divorced him after raising their two boys to adulthood.

“She knew I would never love her in the same way as I loved your mother,” he said.

He’d fought to stay in this apartment, refusing to leave it just in case Dorothy or Sandra ever came to find him. He’d been holding out hope for this moment for years, just like Dorothy had.

Days turned into weeks as Dorothy and Xavier forged a fragile bond, bridging the years of separation. They walked through Central Park, sharing stories and laughter, slowly stitching together the fragments of their fractured past. Dorothy discovered a shared love of music, and Xavier taught her to play the guitar, the strings serving as a melodic thread connecting them.

As the winter snowflakes danced outside their window, Dorothy's heart began to heal. She had found her father, and in him, a missing piece of herself. But she also realized that the journey was not just about finding answers; it was about discovering who she was, independent of her longing for the past.

With the coming of spring, Dorothy made her peace with New York and bid farewell to her father. The journey had brought her to a place of understanding, and now it was time to return to Seattle, to the life she had put on hold. She knew her father would always be a part of her, but she had her own path to forge.

As she arrived in Seattle, she felt confident in what her future held for her. She stepped onto the familiar streets, her heart filled with a newfound sense of purpose. Dorothy had found her father, but more importantly, she had found herself. 

And armed with the lessons learned on her journey, she was ready to embrace the road ahead.

Lauren Oliver has been one of my favorite authors since I first found her Delirium series as a late teen, and like I do with all my favorite authors, I’ve made a point to read everything she has written since. 

Somehow, though, the release of her young adult mystery thriller Broken Things completely escaped my attention. So when I found it in my local library I was pleasantly surprised to have what was sure to be another captivating novel written by one of my favorites to get lost in.

Broken Things essentially explores the mystery surrounding the murder of a teenage girl. The novel tells the story of three best friends, Mia, Summer, and Brynn, who were once obsessed with a peculiar novel called The Way into Lovelorn, which was set in a magical world where the characters could escape their real-life problems. 

Because the novel ends ambiguously mid-sentence, the girls decide to write a fanfic sequel, casting themselves as characters. However, their love for the book becomes intertwined with a real-life tragedy when Summer is found brutally murdered in what appears to be a twisted homage to their literary obsession.

The novel is set five years after the murder, and is told between two alternating viewpoints–Mia and Brynn’s. At this point, the girls are now in their late teens, struggling to move on from the tragedy that has defined their lives and catapulted them onto vastly different life paths. However, when they are suddenly drawn back together by a new clue in the case, they begin to question everything they thought they knew about the murder and their friendship.

One of Oliver’s biggest strengths is the way she writes her characters. Mia and Brynn are both complex and flawed, making them feel like real people rather than simply plot devices. Mia, the more introspective of the two, is still haunted by her involvement in the murder and her own past regrets and obsessions. Meanwhile, Brynn is the more outgoing and impulsive of the two, and is struggling to come to terms with her sexuality and the way that the murder has affected her relationship with her mother. 

The friendship between the two girls is at the heart of the novel, and Oliver captures the complexities and contradictions of teenage relationships perfectly. The girls are fiercely loyal to each other, but also deeply competitive, jealous, and resentful. As they delve deeper into the mystery surrounding Summer's murder, they are forced to confront the ways in which they have hurt each other in the past and to reevaluate their understanding of each other.

I’m usually not a fan of mystery novels because I typically find the plot too predictable, but the plot of Broken Things is full of twists and turns that kept me guessing until the very end. I truly did not see the ending coming, which is a rare and beautiful thing for a mystery novel to give me. Oliver does an excellent job of building suspense and creating unreliable narrators who make you question everything you thought you knew about the story. 

Overall, Broken Things is a brilliant and compelling novel that explores the complexities of friendship, grief, the tantalizing allure of fantastical worlds, and the vigorous search for truth. Oliver's writing is, as always, beautiful and evocative, and her characters are absolutely unforgettable. The novel is definitely a must-read for fans of young adult fiction, mystery, and suspense so if you’re looking to get lost in a story this summer, add this to your TBR list!

Then, let me know in the comments below what your recommended reads are for this summer (because I’m always looking for the next book to get lost in!). 

This post is an excerpt from a forthcoming fantasy novel called 7 Lives by guest author Mika Bennett. In a Game of Thrones-esque fashion, the story is told from the viewpoints of each of the most integral characters and this first chapter revolves around the character named Vanitas who discovers something that just might change the course of his life forever.

Chapter 1: Vanitas

Plunging into the dark film of the Abyss, Prince Vanitas of Medietas heard his name as a distant echo. 

“VANITAS!”

He didn’t stop to contemplate who was calling his name or why. He passed through the smokey haze and emerged directly above his goal: a smaller elder beast called Lindwurm–similar to a dragon but with the intelligence and impressiveness of an oversized lizard. No wings. No fire. Just scales and size and an inclination to feast upon the wildlife brave enough to wander atop the Inges mountains.

The Lindwurm startled as Vanitas landed on top of it, not used to anything being able to survive its dark haze. It squirmed to its feet quickly, launching into a run with Vanitas holding on by the sword buried deep into the nape of its neck. With one quick yank of his arm, Vanitas immobilizes the creature, retrieving his sword and quickly finishing the job with another swift swipe of his sword. I bless you with the honor of death by these hands, Vanitas thinks, placing his hands gently on the giant beast beneath him and closing his eyes as he feels the final remnants of its life retreating.

His eyes snapped open at the detection of movement, but then he smirked as he realized it was just his trusty assistant, Gladius, finally catching up to him.

“Just in time to do the dirty work now that the job is done, eh?” Vanitas teased.

“Why. Do you have to be. So. Reckless?” Gladius asked between gasping breaths.

“Ah, but reckless implies that I was in danger,” Vanitas replied as he slid himself off his prize.

Gladius rolled his eyes and shook his head but joined Vanitas in the appraisal of his kill. “It’s about six feet, right?” Vanitas asked.

“Perhaps seven. An impressive trophy, no doubt.”

Vanitas smiled, satisfied with Gladius’s answer. It’s no dragon, though. He thought. He considered voicing this opinion out loud, but knew there wasn’t a point. Everyone knew there were no dragons left in this land.

After their descent from the mountain, Vanitas and Gladius headed back to the city of Summus. Gladius carried the bulk of the hunt, pulling the cart containing the body while Vanitas led the way leisurely atop his horse. When they reached the castle, they made a quick stop to the butchers to deposit the kill before heading inside.

“Is my father home?” Vanitas asked one of the kitchen staff on duty.

“I believe he has already departed for the evening, my prince,” the man said.

“I see,” Vanitas said, scratching the scruff on his face. “Oh well then.” Turning to Gladius, he asked, “Tavern tonight?”

“Of course, my lord.” Vanitas frowned at Gladius’s unnecessary formality, but knew he was merely putting on a show for the rest of the staff. If word got out that he wasn’t respecting his royals as expected, he would certainly be put to death. So he let it go, and headed off to change before their night’s adventure.

When they arrived at the biggest tavern in town an hour later, they were met with a loud chorus of cheers. 

“MY PEOPLE,” Vanitas shouted above the roar of the crowd, “LET US DRINK!”

The cheers swelled as the crowd stood and shouted with delight, raising their glasses and toasting each other and the air as their prince ordered a round of mead for them all. As he settled into his usual spot with Gladius, the crowd gathered around him.

Prince Vanitas buys a round of drinks for the patrons at the tavern as he tells them the story of his hunt.

“What story do ya got for us today, my prince?” one of the patrons asked.

“Yeah, what were ya catching out there in the Inges?” another chimed in.

Vanitas grinned, relishing the attention as he launched into his latest story of slaughter. 

“Well, today I came upon a Lindwurm, over seven feet in size…” 

A few drinks later, the buzz of his story had fizzled out and it was time to return home for the night. 

“I may have had too much tonight,” Vanitas said as Gladius helped him to his room.

“It’s fine. You enjoyed yourself. And at least tonight you managed to keep your clothes on.”

“Ah, but it would have been so much better if I hadn’t,” Vanitas said with a grin. “Good night, dear Gladius.”

“Sweet dreams, my prince.”

“Watch your sweet mouth,” Vanitas grumbled, but Gladius had already left the room. So Vanitas hugged one of his pillows against his chest and fell asleep.

****

The next day, Vanitas arose perfectly on schedule, as if his drink too many the night before hadn’t been nearly enough. He endured his formal breakfast in silence–as was the custom–and then returned to his room to spend the remaining hours of the morning ensuring every hair and garment of clothing was perfectly placed. It was nearly afternoon by the time he headed out the door to fulfill his duties in the Royal Court.

“You look as flawless as ever, my lord,” Gladius remarked as the pair walked through the city toward the court.

Vanitas nodded his acknowledgement, though his mind was racing with concern. Would his father agree? Would he even be there today? What would he think? What would he say? How would he humiliate his son today?

“Sire,” Vanitas nodded to the guard at the door of the Last Dragon Den of Medietas, the home of the Royal Court.

“My prince,” the guard said. “The King has requested a word with you.”

Vanitas nodded again, clenching and releasing his fists in anticipation of what would greet him once he stepped through the doors. He took a breath, holding it as he crossed the barrier and met the gaze of the King. Though their eyes met only briefly, it was just long enough for him to see the hint of disapproval in his eyes before the King quickly turned his attention back to his work.

“I hear your hunt was a success,” the King spoke without looking at his son. “The kitchen says the bounty was exceptionally plentiful. I suppose a congratulations is in order, though I would expect nothing less from my second son.”

“Yes, my King. Your praise is appreciated.” 

Vanitas searched for something more to say, some way to prolong this conversation. It was, after all, the most he’d heard from his father in weeks. But then his father spoke again.

“You may take your seat now,” the King said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Deflated, Vanitas retreated to his place with the rest of the nobles where he stood stiller than a statue–a pillar of the King’s royal bloodline–until the sun set and he was finally dismissed.

Needing a drink to top off the awful day, he wandered into the same tavern from the night before, but with much less gusto. The crowd cheered upon his entrance and then quickly turned back to their conversations when they realized they weren’t going to get a fascinating tale and a free mug of mead out of the prince’s presence.

Without Gladius to monitor his drinking, Vanitas finished off glass after glass until the tavern became quiet–nearly empty in the pre-dawn hours. He stumbled out of the tavern, wincing at the brightness of the moon in the sky. He put his hands up reflexively to shield himself from the overwhelming light as he half-dragged himself toward home. 

Of all the nights for Galdius to leave me hanging, he thought. Where is he anyway?

He ventured off the path as if possessed, his legs carrying him deep into the woods at the base of the mountains he was hunting within the day before. His thoughts swirled around the events of the day–his father’s disapproving glare, the snide remark about his catch. Why was nothing ever good enough for his father? 

He tripped over his own feet, catching himself with the tree in front of him before he could fall. Why am I even here? He thought. Then, he balled his hands into fists and struck the tree until his knuckles were numb and bloody. Overwhelmed with a sudden exhaustion, he flopped himself onto the ground and looked up at the stars, remembering a lullaby his mother used to sing him. 

The stars desire

Shining brighter

Climbing higher

Than the sun of fire

Could ever be

A shadow passed over the moon, catching his eye as it eclipsed the light. The movement of the creature was quick, but Vanitas tracked it easily as he mentally calculated its size. Much bigger than 7 feet, he thought. He watched it as it flew toward the Inges Mountains, noticing the glimmer of light reflecting off the creature's wings just before it disappeared behind the tall peaks.

Only one creature in the world had been known to have a light in their wings like that.

A dragon.

Vanitas sprung to his feet. He wouldn't have much time if he wanted to catch it. Dragons had been considered extinct for years. This might have been the only one left, and that meant it was unlikely to stay in one place for long.

Vanitas spots a dragon and decides to hunt it down.

He rushed home, nearly knocking Gladius over as he bursted through his door.

“Where have you been?” Gladius asked, that stern look of worry etched into his face.

Vanitas ignored him as he assembled the gear and attire he needed for this fight.

“There’s a dragon. I’m going to catch it,” Vanitas said absentmindedly as he scrambled through his wardrobe.

“Okay, I think it’s time to sleep off the booze.”

“It went right over the Ingns. I’m certain I can track it.”

Gladius sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s pretend you aren’t completely out of your mind right now.”

“I know what I saw, Gladius.” They locked eyes. 

“Even if you did, do you seriously think you can fight in this state? You can’t ride a horse like this. How do you expect to single-handedly fight off a creature known to kill entire villages?”

Vanitas considered this. The room spun for a moment, and he sighed. “You’re right. I can’t ride a horse like this. I’ll sleep this off for a few hours and we’ll depart first thing in the morning. Make sure the horses are ready.”

“Of course, my prince,” Gladius said, helping Vanitas out of the armor he had hastily put on.

Sleep took over almost as soon as Vanitas’s head hit the pillow. He dreamt of slaying a dragon, his father smiling down at him with pride, and woke with a vigor uncommon for a man who drank too much and slept too little.

He skipped his breakfast and the usual fussing of his appearance and instead rushed as quickly as possible out the door, knocking into Gladius on his way out.

“Is everything ready?” Vanitas asked.

Gladius looked confused for a moment, and then he sighed. “You were drunk. You don’t know what you saw last night, but it certainly couldn’t have been a dragon. You know the consequences you’ll suffer if your father notices you missed your studies and your post. You’re lucky I covered for you today at breakfast, but let’s not press your luck further.”

“I’m not a child or an idiot! I know what I saw! It was a dragon! A dragon, Gladius! Forget about the consequences for missing all that meaningless nonsense. If we catch this dragon, we’ll never have to suffer consequences for anything ever again!”

“If there even is a dragon to begin with.”

“Fine. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself.”

Vanitas stormed past Gladius toward the stables. Angrily, he started saddling up his horse, cursing under his breath at Gladius’s lack of faith in him. I’ll show them. I’ll show all of them.

Vanitas prepares to hunt the dragon alone.

“Do you at least have a real plan?” Gladius asked, appearing in the stable.

Vanitas noticed that he had their usual travel pack with him–the one he always kept stocked with food, water, and necessary supplies–and grinned.

“Of course I do,” Vanitas answered. “So you’re coming with me then?”

“Of course I am,” Gladius said as he started loading up his own horse.

They mounted their horses and Vanitas led the way toward the section of the mountains he saw the dragon descend into. He knew that area contained a lot of caves that could easily hide a dragon, but it would be hell trying to figure out the right one. It might take them all day, but he would kill that dragon. He had to.

When they finally arrived at the peak he believed the dragon to be, though, after checking every possible cave along the way, there was nothing to see. Not even so much as a rock out of place.

“See?” Gladius spoke up. “There’s nothing here. Let’s return and recover what we can before your father realizes how much time you’ve wasted.”

Vanitas ignored him and started toward another set of mountains just beyond the peak they were standing upon. He wouldn't return home without something. Maybe it wouldn't be a dragon, but Gladius was right. He couldn't return empty-handed. He wouldn't.

Their trek took another several hours, and the sun was setting in a blinding glow by the time they reached the second peak. This one was different, though. The trees were charred black, all remnants of life destroyed.

“Okay, so there was a fire,” Gladius said cautiously. “That must have been what you saw last night.”

“I know what I saw,” Vanitas snapped back. “The dragon must be close…”

He walked over to the edge of the cliff and peered down the ravine where he noticed a section completely hidden in the shadows, a crack in the mountains that he knew must lead to a cave. 

“See! There!” Vanitas pointed out to Gladius

Gladius sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t have the correct supplies to reach it and it’s getting late. We should return to the castle and perhaps we can convince some of your father’s more experienced men to come back at another point and–”

Gladius’s suggestion was cut short with a massive roar that shook the ground, rattling loose several rocks that tumbled over the edge and out of sight. 

“That came from the crevice! It’s directly beneath us! Gladius! It’s here! I was right!”

Without thinking, Vanitas lowered himself over the edge and started to make his way down the ravine toward the crevice.

“Vanitas, wait!” Gladius shouted after him, but again Vanitas ignored him.

He leapt, climbed, and nearly slipped off the side of the mountain, catching himself by the grip of his fingertips as he reached the slight opening in front of him. He lifted himself up to the mouth of the opening and realized he was standing upon a ledge only a couple feet in width that then dropped down into a pitch-black hole.

I can do this, he thought. 

And before he had time to stop himself, he jumped off the edge into the darkness below.

He stuck his legs out in front of him, bracing for an impact. But it didn't come. 

Maybe jumping was a bad idea, he told himself after falling for what felt like an eternity.

But just as soon as the thought occurred, he finally made contact with the ground. A sharp pain shot from his ankle all the way up his leg, but he sprung up quickly, meeting the gaze of a beast much larger than he could have guessed.

He pulled his blade from his sheath and raised it slowly toward the creature, whose head was at least ten times the size of him. The beast opened its mouth, fire gathering in the back of its throat. 

Without hesitation, Vanitas charged forward, prepared to strike despite the rush of fire consuming his view. He swung his sword through the flames, closing his eyes and bracing himself against the enveloping heat.

But as the flames dissipated, he realized there was nothing there except a black void.

Had he imagined the dragon?

“Warrior,” a deep and raspy voice echoed through the darkness, “are you brave or a fool?”

Vanitas felt the voice run up his spine and shivered as his own words seemed to be summoned from within him against his will. “I am both.”

“I see,” the voice said. “And what is your reasoning for disturbing the actions of the ancient Potens Draco?”

Vanitas felt his arm being pulled as though by a puppet string, sheathing his sword as his words were again summoned from within him. “I am burdened with proving my worth so I push myself to complete the most valiant tasks to inspire envy in all who hear of them which is why I’ve come to slay a dragon.”

“Hmm. Humans are interesting indeed. To believe honor could come from others and not oneself is a strange idea.”

Vanitas converses with the dragon.

“Accomplishments mean nothing if no one knows about them. How else would someone acquire stories of their greatness to be eternalized until the end of all time?”

“Ah, time. Such an ambiguous thing. Is this what makes you willing to do whatever it takes to acquire your glory?”

“Yes. Glory or death, I’m not scared. Either way, I am immortalized.”

“So be it then. I will grant you my power. But it does come at a price.”

The shroud of darkness lifted and the shapes of the rocks around Vanitas reformed as they once were. The dragon, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The dragon grants Vanitas his power.

“Vanitas! Can you hear me?” Gladius shouted from the crevice entrance.

Vanitas blinked and looked up.

“I’m here!” he said. 

“Stay where you are!” Gladius told him. “I’m going to send down some rope to pull you up!”

Some vines intertwined with rope rolled down the descent. Vanitas took one last, lingering look at the empty cavern before him. Was it just a dream? Was he imagining things? 

Pain radiated up his leg and he sighed as he took hold of the vine and helped Gladius pull him back up.

“Are you hurt?” Gladius asked him.

Vanitas shook his head. “A little sprain, perhaps.”

Gladius shoved him and then pulled him back before he could topple over, holding him up by his shirt. “You reckless idiot! Could you not wait for me to descend with you! You could have been killed!”

Vanitas smirked. “If you wanted to get me out of my shirt, Gladius, you need only to have asked nicely.”

Gladius released Vanitas with a frustrated sigh, but then his eyes landed on something. “What’s this on your arm?”

As Vanitas looked down at his arm, he saw the shape of a dragon etched into his skin with a glowing yellow-orange hue, spanning from his inner wrist all the way up to his elbow. 

“It was real,” he said with a widening grin. “I found it.”