Seraphyra led Jayfeather through the palace, her massive wings sweeping gracefully through the air. The walls of the floating castle shimmered with the faint glow of distant stars embedded in the stone, casting a soft, ethereal light across the corridors. Jayfeather, despite his blindness, moved with quiet confidence, his every step deliberate and sure.

As they entered the grand hall, they were met by the sight of Strawberry, now fully healed from the curse's vicious claws. Her pale pink scales glimmered under the starry lights, and her usual gentle demeanor was accompanied by a fierce determination in her gaze. She stood in deep conversation with a figure Seraphyra knew all too well—her best friend, a dark-hued red wyvern, whose scales gleamed like molten rubies in the dim light. The wyvern's posture was proud, yet his expression held a hint of playful mischief.

Upon noticing Seraphyra's arrival, the wyvern's sharp eyes flicked up, and a sly grin spread across his face. "Ah, Your Majesty," he greeted, bowing with a deep, exaggerated flourish. His voice rumbled like distant thunder, smooth but laden with a touch of amusement.

Seraphyra nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze softening for a brief moment. "You're as theatrical as ever, Iseeon," she remarked, her voice rich and full of mirth. "But I trust your advice has been as sound as your entrances."

Iseeon chuckled, his fiery red wings fluttering slightly. "Always, Your Majesty. Always."

Strawberry, however, was not as amused. Her eyes shifted to Jayfeather, who stood slightly behind Seraphyra, his head tilted in a quiet, thoughtful manner. Her frown deepened as she took in the sight of the small, blind cat trailing after the queen. "Who's this?" she asked, voice tinged with confusion and concern, gesturing toward Jayfeather.

Seraphyra smiled, her amber eyes flicking over to the tabby with a spark of amusement. "This," she said, her tone light yet filled with intrigue, "is Jayfeather of ThunderClan. Apparently, he is a warrior cat."

A pause hung in the air as Strawberry blinked, her pink scales shimmering with disbelief. A warrior cat? She couldn't have heard that correctly.

"Warrior cat?" Iseeon echoed, his brow furrowing with curiosity. "What kind of warrior can a cat be?" His voice carried a hint of genuine interest, though he couldn't quite hide the amusement in his words.

Jayfeather, though blind, stood tall, his whiskers twitching as he heard the question. "A warrior who fights for his clan," he answered quietly, though there was strength in his voice. "A warrior who serves the land and his people, even when the path is unclear."

Seraphyra raised an eyebrow, impressed by the cat's forthrightness. "His journey brought him to me," she said, her gaze briefly flicking over to Jayfeather. "And now, it seems, he seeks answers."

Strawberry's expression softened slightly, though her curiosity remained. She looked Jayfeather up and down, her frown slowly easing into a more thoughtful look. "Answers? From you, Your Majesty?" she asked, though it wasn't so much a question as a statement of surprise.

"I did not bring him here for answers," Seraphyra explained, the softness in her voice not lost on either of them. "But perhaps there is something he can teach us all. The stars, after all, do not choose their champions by size or strength, but by spirit." She turned her attention back to Jayfeather, offering him a knowing glance. "And I suspect Jayfeather has much to offer."

Iseeon tilted his head, his golden eyes gleaming with an unspoken question. "What exactly does ThunderClan need from us, then?"

Jayfeather's blind eyes, despite their lack of sight, seemed to lock onto Iseeon with a piercing sharpness. "What ThunderClan needs is no different from what any warrior seeks," he said, his voice steady. "Guidance. Strength. And the courage to face the darkness that lies ahead."

The room grew still, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Seraphyra regarded him carefully, her expression unreadable, before she gave a small nod. "Very well, then," she said, her voice steady and commanding. "You may stay here for a time, Jayfeather of ThunderClan. But know this—there is more at stake than you can yet understand. The world is shifting, and the threads of fate may soon weave you into a story you cannot yet see."

Iseeon grinned, his wings flaring in amusement. "A cat in the midst of dragons and wyverns," he mused, his voice rich with humor. "Now that is a tale I would like to see unfold."

Seraphyra's eyes twinkled with the faintest glint of humor, though her tone remained firm. "Do not underestimate him, Iseeon. Even the smallest creature can have a hand in shaping the fate of the world."

Jayfeather said nothing, but there was a quiet understanding in the air as he stood among them—an unlikely ally, in a world much larger than he had ever known.

And with that, the shadows of destiny seemed to stretch a little farther, the stars a little closer.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

The following day, Seraphyra decided to visit the border herself. She had no doubt that the Avengers—humans, of course—had bungled the job of clearing the dungeon of the curse they had promised to exorcise. After all, how many times had she witnessed humans make a mess of things, despite their bravado?

She took to the skies, her wings cutting through the air with effortless grace as the world below her shrank to a blur. The border was a vast stretch of land, where the earth met the ocean in a quiet, salty embrace. The wind carried with it the tang of saltwater and the distant call of seabirds. As she descended toward the coastline, her keen eyes scanned the landscape, looking for any signs of trouble—or, more likely, more signs of human incompetence.

When she landed, the earth beneath her shifted slightly, and her claws sank deep into the soft sand, leaving intricate patterns in the beach. She glanced around the area, searching for any signs of the curse's remnants, when her gaze was drawn to a familiar figure.

There, standing at the edge of a beach bar, was the man in the red and yellow armor. Apparently, his name was Tony Stark, though at this point, Seraphyra wasn't sure whether it was his real name or just some absurd title he'd given himself. He was leaning casually against a barstool, sipping on a cocktail as though he had all the time in the world. A small umbrella stuck out of the drink, and a lime wedge perched precariously on the rim, as though to mock the very notion of responsibility.

"Ah, Your Majesty," Tony said, looking up at her with a smile as wide as the ocean behind him. There was no hint of fear or even the slightest recognition of the fact that he was, in fact, standing in front of a towering, formidable dragon queen. He seemed, instead, entirely at ease.

Seraphyra narrowed her eyes, taking in the absurdity of the scene. The man's armor, though undoubtedly designed for battle, seemed almost out of place against the backdrop of the serene beach. But it wasn't the armor that caught her attention—it was his face. Now that she was closer, she could see him more clearly. He had well-groomed dark hair that shimmered under the sunlight, strikingly blue eyes that reflected the ocean, and a sharply trimmed goatee that made him look far too self-assured for his own good.

"You," she said, her voice a deep rumble that could easily shake the heavens if she willed it. "I take it the curse is gone, then?" She gestured vaguely to the bar, her wings twitching slightly in irritation. "Seems like you've been quite... busy."

Tony took another casual sip of his drink, his grin never wavering. "Oh, that?" He waved a hand nonchalantly. "Yeah, curse is gone. Cleaned it up in no time, didn't even break a sweat. You know, just another day in the life of an Avenger." He gestured to the bartender, who immediately refilled his glass, no questions asked.

Seraphyra stared at him, clearly unimpressed. "You call this 'cleaning up'?" she asked, her gaze sweeping over his relaxed posture and the luxurious setting, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were supposed to be helping, not... vacationing."

Tony's grin didn't falter. "Hey, when you've saved the world a few dozen times, you get to enjoy the perks. Besides, we did the heavy lifting. The dungeon's cleared, the curse is lifted, and I'm just here for a little R&R. And if that involves a cocktail by the beach? Well, who am I to argue with fate?"

Seraphyra's eyes narrowed. "You are infuriating."

Tony shrugged, completely unbothered. "Yeah, well, I've been called worse. But hey, if it helps, I'm also a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And apparently, a world-saving, curse-exorcising hero too." He raised his glass slightly in mock toast. "Cheers, Your Majesty."

Seraphyra took a slow, deliberate breath, her massive wings folding in slightly, the subtle ripple of her scales the only sign of her agitation. "You humans," she muttered to herself, more amused than angry now, "are utterly insufferable."

But she couldn't help the small, wry smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. Despite his arrogance, Tony Stark had a certain... charm about him. A ridiculous charm, to be sure, but charm nonetheless.

"Fine," she said with a sigh, her tone softer now. "You may have 'saved the day,' but I'll be watching you, Stark. One wrong move, and I'll make sure you're too busy trying to avoid being roasted to sip cocktails."

Tony raised his glass once more. "Noted, Your Majesty. I'll try to keep my antics to a minimum... but no promises."

With that, Seraphyra gave him one last, long look, then turned to leave. Her wings beat against the wind as she soared back into the sky, the image of Tony Stark lounging by the bar still fresh in her mind. She had to admit, it was a rather entertaining scene—though she wouldn't be so quick to let him off the hook.

Humans. They were an endless source of both frustration and amusement.