The last of the settling dust glitters in the air, a fragile curtain between the past and the shocking, impossible present. He blinks, as if trying to clear a mirage. You can only stare, your own breath caught in your throat, the world narrowing to this single, painful point of collision.

He can’t help but wonder, the thought a desperate, silent scream in his mind: How in the name of Lan are you here?

The memory of your last meeting crashes over him—the chaotic streets of the Xianzhou, the scent of ozone and rain, and the searing pain as Blade’s sword found its mark. That violent act had torn the veil, unleashing the ghost of Dan Feng that he had tried so hard to bury. He remembers the General’s intervention, the fragile peace that followed, and then… you. You had approached him, your face a heartbreaking canvas of hope and old love, and he, with a heart of stone, had pushed you away. For your own good. For the sake of the man he was trying to become, unshackled from the sins of the man he once was. He walked away onto the Astral Express, leaving the ghost of your shared past behind.

And now, here you are.

Face to face in the gleaming, impossible spires of Amphoreus.

The air he pulls in is sharp, a blade in his lungs. His voice is a low, strained thing, laced with a confusion that borders on panic. "What… no… how are you here?"

His gaze is fixed on you, a desperate search for answers. But you? You are adrift, momentarily lost in the sheer, profound change of him. You are cataloguing the differences, the evidence of the time that has passed without you.

The long hair is familiar, yes—you saw it in the Xianzhou, a cascade of light blue with that single, defiant red strand. But now it is a river of pure midnight, tied back severely. His eyes, once clear turquoise pools, now hold a storm of gold within their depths, the pupils molten. The horns that were once translucent are now solid, curved gold, and the tail he once hid is now a permanent, powerful part of him.

But it’s more than that. He has grown. The boy you once knew, who stood just a head taller, has become a man you now barely reach the chest of. The space between you feels both infinitely small and impossibly vast.

And in that disorienting moment, he doesn’t remind you of a fearsome dragon or a vengeful spirit. No. With his new height, his graceful yet solid posture, and the gentle curve of his horns… he reminds you of the Dromas. That beloved, gentle, and slightly clumsy creature of Amphoreus that children adore, the one you’ve come to love for its quiet, comforting presence.

He sharply snaps his fingers in front of your face, the sound cracking through your reverie. "Answer my question: how are you here—"

Your mouth moves on its own, the thought escaping before sense can reclaim it.

"You… you look like a Dromas."

The words hang in the air, fragile and devastating.

A Dromas. Not a High Elder of the Vidyadhara. Not the reincarnation of a sinner. Not something to be feared, but… a Dromas. The tall, gentle dinosaur that children love and fondly hold as plushies.

He closes his eyes, a slow, pained shuttering. He has heard the comparison before, from a certain Trailblazer with no sense of decorum. But why… why does hearing it from your lips feel so uniquely humiliating? So profoundly diminishing?

“THAT’S WHAT I WAS SAYING!!” Caelus’s voice yells from a nearby alleyway, proving the nuisance has ears everywhere. Literally.

And Dan Heng—no, the Chrysos Heir, the man who has remade himself with fire and will—opens his eyes. The molten gold in them seems to swirl, and his gaze finds you again, holding you there, in the ruins of the moment you just shattered.