Ariana's final words echoed in the quiet War Room. We have the means to reach the sky.

Hope was a dangerous thing. Jonah felt a small spark of it in his chest. But one quick look at General Ironwood's angry face was enough to crush it. The General did not trust the Silver Phoenix Empire, and he definitely did not trust their unclear, mysterious promises of help.

"What means?" Ironwood asked, and his voice was sharp and suspicious. "Our two nations have been bitter rivals for a hundred years. You expect us to just believe that you have a secret weapon that you're just now willing to share with us?"

The Empress, who had remained silent on her throne, let out a small smile. "It is not a weapon, General. It is a ritual. It is an ancient and powerful art that our people have preserved for a thousand years. We call it the Celestial Catapult."

One of her royal engineers brought up a new hologram. It showed a spinning column of silver energy. It was fixed to the ground, but it reached up high into a dark, starry sky. "The Catapult does not throw a physical object," the Empress explained calmly. "It creates a temporary bridge between our planet and space. It's a safe path of stable energy. We can send your Progeny through this path, directly into orbit."

It was a good idea. It was a bridge to space, made of pure magic.

Jonah's mind worked fast. It could work. Nomad was made for space. It could travel that bridge. They could get to the Damocles station.

But he could see the catch in General Ironwood's cold eyes. There was always a catch.

"A ritual that big," the Headmaster said, his voice calm and serious, "would require a powerful anchor. It would need a source of power that is stronger than anything a normal person can provide. It would need a massive power source that naturally connects to space."

The Empress's cold smile grew bigger. She looked directly at the Headmaster. She knew that she had them trapped.

"Exactly," she said. "We know of the living god that you keep chained deep under your city."

The air in the War Room suddenly turned cold. She was talking about the Golden Dragon. The secret, living source of the Divine Serum. The ancient and powerful creature whose heart of pure starlight was used to power their entire nation.

"Impossible," General Ironwood growled angrily. He took a step forward and made his hand into a tight fist. "The Heart of the Dragon is the lifeblood of this nation. To use it in a forbidden, foreign ritual… to risk it for even a moment… is to risk our own complete and total destruction. We will not allow it."

The Headmaster stood beside him, his face serious. "The General is right. The Heart is too important. And it is too fragile. We cannot move it, let alone use it as a power source for your… strange magic."

The Empress simply raised an eyebrow. Her voice was flat and totally without any emotion. "That power will be completely useless when Julian Sterling decides to switch it off," she said, her words cold and sharp. "Your nation's precious 'lifeblood' will stop beating, and you will all die in the dark. Your stubborn pride is something you can no longer keep."

A tense silence covered the room. It was a perfect trap. The Silver Phoenix Empire had the key, but the Golden Dragon Nation had the lock. And neither side was willing to compromise. Jonah felt that small spark of hope dying, turning into a bitter feeling inside him.

Then, Princess Ariana stood up from her chair.

"There is another way," she said, her voice breaking the tense silence.

Ariana turned her attention from the angry, old leaders to Jonah.

"The use of the Heart will not be an exchange," she declared, her voice firm and strong. "It will be a temporary loan. The price is not an object. The price is a promise."

Her gaze was intense. "We have studied the energy from your battles, Weaver. Your power is one of symbiotic creation. It is a true partnership with life. It is a truth that our nation deeply respects."

She paused, and her eyes hardened. "Your nation's power, however, is built on torture. It is built on the constant pain of a chained and suffering god. This is a sin. It is a disease in the heart of your world. And it must be fixed. It must be made right."

She was not talking to the General or the Headmaster anymore. She was talking only to Jonah.

"This is my condition," Ariana said. "Swear a vow, Weaver Jonah, witnessed here by the leaders of our two nations. When this war is finally won, when Julian Sterling is defeated, you will use your art, your unique gift of creation, to free the Immortal Dragon. You will end your nation's sin."

Jonah's breath caught in his throat.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest. It was the simple wish of a being that just wanted to go home. He was being asked to promise the impossible. He was being asked to tear down the foundation of his naton's power. It was an act of treason. It was an act of revolution.

He looked at the Headmaster, who stared back at him with tired and sad eyes. He looked at General Ironwood, whose face was covered with rage. They would never, ever agree to this. It was political suicide.

But they weren't being asked. He was.

Ariana was testing him. She was asking him to prove which side he was really on. Was he on the side of the jailers, who used power that was taken by force? Or was he on the side of the creators, who built new things through partnership and respect?

He knew what to say. He had known it since the moment he felt the dragon's silent pain. He had a debt he needed to pay.

He looked from his shocked, angry leaders to the image of the determined, powerful princess.

"I swear it."

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