The Deep Palace was quiet on this late summer morning, cool inside the shady underwater chamber. In the grand library, the coral walls glowed faintly with threads of phosphorescence, and the pearly curtains of sea grass shifted when a soft current wandered through. Tern had chosen a niche beneath a spiraling coral outcrop, her scrolls spread in careful arcs across the uneven stone shelf, weighted down with shell paperweights.

She leaned over one unfurled sheet, her emerald scales gleaming in the filtered light from a sapphire window high above. Her claws tapped lightly against the page as she traced the branching names of ancestors- queens, challengers, lost heirs- recorded in neat script. Her eyes narrowed, amused and intent all at once, as though the story of her family’s past were whispering secrets directly to her.

Somewhere down the corridor, a cluster of dragonets shrieked with laughter as they darted down the corridor. Tern glanced up, mouth twitching, then forced her gaze back to the scroll. “Focus, focus,” she muttered, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a grin.

“Queen Porpoise…” she whispered, eyes sparkling. “You nearly ruined everything, didn’t you?” She chuckled, delighted at the messy dramas of long-dead rulers.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the gentle hiss of bubbles and the soft rustle of seagrass curtains, as Tern lost herself once more in the stories of the Seawings- both the victories and the disasters- that only she seemed to love so fiercely.