Cior had just returned to the academy when she found herself surrounded by the boys, all eager to gossip about their mysterious report results.
"Do you guys find something weird in your reports?" Mateo asked, leaning casually against a tree, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
Arven groaned, dramatically throwing his arms up. "Oh, just the small detail that my father isn't actually my father, and my mother's previous husband is my biological father. You know, nothing groundbreaking or life-shattering. What a revelation."
"Wow, you win the family drama contest," Mateo quipped, stifling a laugh. "What about you, Cior?"
Cior shrugged nonchalantly. "I found out that my father is actually my father."
The boys stared at her for a moment, their faces blank before Ziven burst out laughing. "Who doesn't know that? You're practically a carbon copy of him!" He gestured dramatically toward her, mimicking Kieran's cocky stance with a smirk. "It's like looking at Kieran 2.0—just with a softer touch and slightly less arrogance."
"Well, well, he seemed too careless about the resemblance before," Cior replied, crossing her arms, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But now I have confirmation, so ha! Victory."
Mateo snorted. "Oh yeah, that clears everything up."
Ziven wasn't done teasing. "So, Kieran Junior with white hair, did you find out anything about your mom? Or are you still part of the mysterious lineage of confusion?"
Cior perked up and pulled a picture out of her pocket, holding it up like it was a prized artifact. "Actually, my dad gave me this. Look—here's my mom. White hair, gorgeous, and all-around ethereal. Guess where I got my amazing locks from?" She shook her hair dramatically for effect.
The boys leaned in to look at the picture. Amaias nodded appreciatively. "She is beautiful. You definitely got her hair. And maybe some of her charm. Emphasis on some."
Cior rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks, Amaias. Coming from you, that means so much."
Ziven smirked, nudging her shoulder. "So, you're basically a perfect blend of chaos and elegance. Kieran 2.0 meets White-Haired Goddess."
"Exactly," Cior said with mock pride. "A walking, talking legacy. Except the chaos part wasn't optional."
Arven sighed dramatically. "Meanwhile, I'm over here wondering if I should call my father 'Father' or just switch to 'Hey, Stranger.'"
Mateo clapped him on the back. "It's okay, Arven. At least you got some juicy drama out of your report. All I got was confirmation that my dad is, well... my dad. Not even a plot twist. Zero excitement. Ten out of ten, would not recommend."
Cior couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at their banter. "You guys are ridiculous. Can't we just agree that our family trees are basically one big tangled mess and move on?"
"Fair enough," Ziven said, leaning back with a grin. "But only if we all agree to keep calling you Cior. Because no matter how fancy your heritage is, you're still the same sarcastic pain we all know and tolerate."
"Glad to know I'm tolerated," Cior replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Truly, your acceptance is an honor."
The boys laughed, and for a moment, the weight of their revelations felt a little lighter.
Cior was just finishing up her work when Ziven appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her arm like he was on a mission. His signature grin was plastered across his face, and she could already feel the nonsense brewing.
"Hey, honey," Ziven said with mock sweetness. "Wanna go tame some Asian dragon?"
Cior froze, narrowing her eyes. "Honey? Why are you calling me that?"
Ziven shrugged nonchalantly. "I called Arven 'darling' earlier, so no worries. Equal opportunity affection, you know? You're honey, he's darling. It's a system."
Cior blinked at him, completely unimpressed. "Wow. Revolutionary. Should I feel special or just concerned?"
"Special, of course," Ziven replied, winking. "Now, come on. We've got a dragon to tame."
"Wait, where exactly are we going?" she asked, still trying to process his random behavior.
"The northern part, honey," he said, dragging out the last word with a flourish.
Cior groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Cheesy and suspicious. Great combo."
"Admit it, you love it," Ziven teased, his grin widening.
She didn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, she muttered, "You're insufferable," before teleporting them both to the northern part of the academy grounds.
The moment they landed, Cior shot him a side-eye. "If this turns out to be some elaborate prank, I swear, I'm feeding you to the dragon."
Ziven just laughed, his confidence completely intact. "Relax, honey. You'll thank me later."
"Yeah, sure," Cior deadpanned. "Just remind me to revoke your pet name privileges when this is over."
Cior crossed her arms, watching Ziven with skepticism as he prepared himself. "Why are you even choosing an Asian dragon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because the only big dragon in this kingdom has already been tamed by your dad," Ziven replied casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Cior rolled her eyes. "Figures. You know, you could try taming something smaller. Like a squirrel. Much safer."
Ziven ignored her sarcasm, squinting at her thoughtfully instead. "I have a question," he said, tilting his head. "I heard your dad's half human and half angel, but I've never seen your wings. Do you even have them?"
Cior stiffened, her expression deadpan. "Of course, I have them. I just don't make them appear often."
Ziven leaned in with a smirk. "Why not? I wanna see."
Cior narrowed her eyes at him. "Focus on taming the dragon, not on me. I'm just here to supervise your inevitable failure."
"Sure, sure," Ziven said, waving her off and turning toward the massive dragon resting a few feet away. Without a second thought, he dramatically leaped onto its back.
The dragon immediately snapped awake, eyes glowing with fury. It roared and launched into the air, thrashing wildly as Ziven held on for dear life.
Cior, watching from the ground, snorted. "This is going exactly as I predicted."
But then the dragon started spinning, and Ziven lost his grip. "Oh no," she muttered as he plummeted toward the ground, arms flailing.
With a sigh and a muttered curse, Cior extended her wings. The bandages and fabric on her back tore with a loud rip, and her brilliant white wings unfolded majestically as she took off. She soared toward Ziven, catching him just before he could hit the ground.
Ziven blinked up at her, grinning like an idiot. "Well, hello, angel. Took you long enough."
Cior groaned, her face red with embarrassment. "Shut up. I wouldn't have had to do this if you weren't so reckless."
He glanced at her torn clothes and chuckled. "So that's why you don't use your wings. You can't keep your clothes intact, huh?"
"Do you want me to drop you?" she threatened, glaring at him.
"Okay, okay! No need for violence, honey."
Cior landed and promptly shoved him off her, folding her wings back and giving him a death glare. "Next time, tame something with fewer teeth and claws. Or better yet, leave the dragon-taming to someone else."
Ziven just grinned, dusting himself off. "You know, I think you saved me just so I could admire your wings. They're beautiful, by the way."
Cior glared at him, her cheeks heating. "Go tame your dragon before I decide to feed you to it."
"Noted," Ziven said with a wink before heading back toward the dragon, completely unfazed.
As Cior flew Ziven safely back to the ground, she noticed his eyes weren't focused on the ground beneath them. Instead, they were darting toward her, specifically at her torn clothes.
"Could you not stare?" she snapped, glaring at him.
Ziven, completely unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "You've got a scar on your shoulder."
Cior's glare intensified, her cheeks tinged red. "Yah, yah, I do. Very observant of you. Now stop looking!"
Ziven smirked. "Does it have a story, or do you just collect scars for fun?"
"Do you have a death wish?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Before Ziven could respond, Cior unceremoniously dropped him the remaining few feet to the ground. He landed with a loud thud and a groan.
"Ow," Ziven muttered, sitting up and rubbing his back. "I'm starting to think you don't appreciate my compliments."
Cior folded her wings, rolling her eyes. "If your idea of a compliment is staring at me like a creep, then you're absolutely right."
Ziven grinned up at her. "I mean, you did save me, so I guess I'll forgive the rough landing. And nice wings, by the way. Totally worth the fall."
Cior turned on her heel, muttering under her breath, "Next time, I'm letting the dragon eat you."