[ In the age when the skies still burned with celestial fire and the world trembled beneath the weight of ancient wings, the Kingdom of Dragons stood between two eternal forces — the angels of the upper realm and the demons of the abyss.
When the angels sought to rule Branchland, they knew they could not do so in their divine form. They needed a vessel — a being forged in both might and purity. Thus, under the decree of their vice leader, a child was created: a perfect fusion of blood and soul — half angel, half dragon. His name was Aiden, the fifth prince of the dragon throne.
But Aiden was never meant to live. Born sickly, his breath shallow and fleeting, he clung to life by the thinnest thread. Desperate and broken, the Dragon Empress — already having lost four sons to the long war against Aurora Aether — begged the angels to save her final child. She had offered everything. Her womb, torn from childbirth, would bear no more heirs. Aiden was her last hope.
The angels agreed. But salvation came at a price.
Aiden was reborn, not as a prince — but as a servant to the heavens. In saving his life, they bound his soul. He became their blade, their shield — a pawn in their divine scheme to take Branchland.
But fate twisted again when Aiden met Daenerys, a woman of fire and prophecy. What Aiden was to the angels, Daenerys was to the demons — a counterbalance, created in secret to maintain the equilibrium of worlds. In each other, they found more than duty — they found love. And when they wed, the balance trembled.
Their union bore a daughter, Nithe. The angels, seeing the child as their last chance at dominion, gave her their blessing. But the king and queen — bound by heart, not prophecy — refused the fate written for their daughter. They raised her with love, shielding her from divine expectations.
Yet the world, deprived of its supernatural governors, began to fracture.
To restore the balance once more, the angels sent down another child — Tristan, the second born. But the demons, feeling the scale tip again, responded in kind.
And thus was born the third child — Lucien.
The crown prince.
The destined one.
Many years ago, Danish and Dagahra stood as equals—two proud kingdoms balanced in power, each carrying the legacy of their people. But all that changed because of one mistake.
My father, a high-ranking demon with unmatched power and status, made a grave error. It wasn't just a simple slip. It was a mistake so severe that the balance of Branchland began to shift.
No one outside the council ever knew what he did, but the punishment was clear. As a consequence, the entire kingdom of Danish bore the weight. The realm that once stood beside Dagahra in strength was cast down, and Dagahra was made the new mainland. Danish was forgotten, forced to watch from the shadows.
It wasn't just punishment—it was exile.
Nithe was born a beloved child—cherished by all, she gave more than she ever took from the people of the kingdom. The king and queen adored her, and for a time, she was their only joy. But everything changed when Tristan and Lucien were born. The kingdom's eyes shifted to the two princes, hailed as the true hope of Branchland. Slowly, Nithe faded from the people's hearts.
No longer the center of affection, Nithe felt the warmth of love turn cold. The adoration once showered on her was now reserved for her brothers, for she was a daughter and could never inherit the throne. Forgotten by those she had once loved, jealousy and bitterness took root in her heart.
She stood silently at the edge of grand balls, watching as her brothers were praised and celebrated, while she was overlooked. The sting of betrayal festered within her—how could the people she loved so deeply abandon her simply because of her birthright?
That pain ignited a fierce resolve. Nithe began to gather her own secret army, weaving power quietly in the shadows. Though she could never be queen by law, she would rule by force. Her heart hardened, convinced that cruelty was what the kingdom deserved.
And so, the princess who was once loved by all took her first step down the dark path of vengeance.]
"So, who exactly is this third child?" Kei asked, her curiosity sharpening.
Sergio's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Surely, it is not difficult to surmise," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the calm authority of one born to command. With a practiced hand, he pressed a hidden latch, and the grand door to the Royal Palace swung open before us.
As I stepped inside, the grandeur was overwhelming—ornate tapestries, polished marble floors, and the scent of aged wood filled the air. We did not wander aimlessly; instead, we made our way directly to the heart of the palace—the chamber of Crown Prince Lucien.
Kei's eyes scanned the room. "It appears he is not here. What now?"
Sergio's gaze was steady, his regal composure unshaken. "What choice do we have but to wait for his return? The hour is yet ours to bide," he said, his tone both patient and commanding, as if time itself answered to his will.
After some time had passed, the chamber doors creaked open, and Crown Prince Lucien stepped in. Draped in his formal midnight cloak, his posture regal, he raised an amused brow as his gaze landed on Sergio.
"What is this, Sergio? You've taken to bringing guests into my private chamber now?" he said with a wry smile, though his eyes searched for the reason behind the intrusion.
Sergio didn't smile back. His expression was grave, his voice steady. "Your Highness, this visit is not one of leisure. There is a matter—serious and urgent."
Lucien's smile faded. His demeanor shifted, sensing the weight in Sergio's tone. After a few quiet exchanges between the two, his attention turned toward me.
"You are Shin, correct?"
"Yes," I nodded.
He took a measured step forward, examining me with a soldier's eye, yet his words were courteous. "It is an honor to finally meet you. I've heard much of your progress from Sergio, ever since your training began. I expect to see your strength shine in the upcoming games."
"Thank you, Your Highness. It's an honor for me as well," I replied, offering a respectful bow.
Lucien's expression sharpened, and he turned toward all of us. "Now, to the matter at hand. You speak of my elder sister… I find it hard to believe. And yet, for such darkness to have remained hidden from me all these years—it speaks of influence and power I underestimated. We cannot afford blind trust. Not even in my own royal guards. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Sergio and I answered in unison.
Kei, who had been quiet till then, took a step forward. "Then we must find proof. Real evidence of her dealings—documents, ledgers, anything she may have failed to bury completely. No one is flawless, not even her. Everyone slips—at least once."
Lucien looked at her, thoughtful. "Very well. If there's a thread she left untied, we shall find it. And when we do… the Branchland will finally see the truth."
"But mere evidence won't suffice," Lucien said again, voice low, weighted with the burden of blood ties. "My sister and I… we were never close. Should I strike her down with only fragmented proof, the court may see it as political rivalry, not justice. She might escape—and retaliate far worse. Her wrath would know no restraint."
Before he could continue, a swift breeze brushed through the chamber. A figure cloaked in black landed lightly by the open window. Her face was half-covered, but her unmistakable smirk gave her away.
"Or perhaps what you truly desire… is to erase her entirely, Your Highness," Celestina said, her tone playful but laced with strategy. "And if that's the case—what you'll need is a crack in her military wall. A weakness. And maybe... we can help."
Lucien turned sharply, astonishment flashing in his eyes before melting into familiarity. "Celestina," he said with a warm, knowing smile. "It's been far too long. You don't visit anymore. Have you forgotten your secret ally in the crown?" He stepped forward and embraced her briefly—a gesture of hidden history.
Celestina laughed softly. "How could I ever forget, Your Highness? I've simply been occupied weaving threads too delicate to share."
She stepped back and tilted her head. "Now, what do you think of my offer? I'll handle your sister. Quietly. But in return... I wish to leave Branchland for good."
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly, then he smiled again—this time, shrewdly. "A high price. But if it secures the kingdom's peace… then so be it. The crown accepts."
Celestina turned toward the window and gestured with a casual flick. "Then my student will take it from here. You all just need to keep tracking the tax records—her trail lies there."
A figure stepped forward from the shadows—Inaya, cloaked in black, her voice gentle and steady. "Hi, everyone," she said, her tone soft but firm. "Hope I'm not too late."
"You're just in time," said Sergio, straightening. His tone was still as formal as ever. "Let's proceed as planned. We'll secure the documents—Kei, Shin, with me."
Kei, already processing several paths in her mind, gave a short nod. "Efficiency is key. We shouldn't waste time."
I glanced at Inaya briefly, heart fluttering with unspoken words—but there was no time for them now.
"You go ahead," Celestina said, her tone now serious. "Inaya and I have matters to discuss. I'll join you all soon. There are… announcements to be made."
"Understood," Sergio replied with a short bow. "We await your word, Lady Celestina."
With that, we turned to leave, the weight of coming war settling on all our shoulders.
As the soft clatter of returning footsteps echoed through the manor halls, Celestina and Inaya entered not long after us. Celestina, still wrapped in the black cloak that trailed faint whispers of mystery behind her, pulled the hood off her head and exhaled, stretching slightly.
"Sergio, would you kindly gather everyone at the dinning room? "she said, her tone casual yet commanding. "I'm starving. I'll make the announcement as I eat."
Sergio gave a respectful nod and turned swiftly to fulfill the request.
"What is it now?" Uncle Zeno asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked up from a scroll he had been scanning.
Celestina smirked "I've brought a few interesting games this time, Uncle. And I have a strong feeling—no, confidence—that they'll win."
"That's good to hear," Uncle Zeno said with a rare hint of warmth, his expression softening.
Soon after, Sergio returned with everyone, ushering them into the long dining room where soft lighting and warm food awaited. Plates clinked and chairs scraped against the floor as the group settled in. Celestina reached for her glass, sipping her water before speaking again.
"There will be four games, spread across three days," she began, her voice smooth but firm. "The games are: 'PREEMPT', 'PEARL DIVING', 'QUEQUE', and 'DRAGON RACE'. Personally, I think the dragon race will be the most entertaining—but for now, let's talk about 'Preempt'."
She leaned back slightly in her seat, eyes glinting. "It's a running game. Straightforward, in a way. So I suggest you all focus on stamina and speed for the next few days."
Yoko scoffed from across the table, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "Don't be a tricky. Can't you just tell us the rules instead of making it cryptic? What's the big deal?"
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Celestina's smile faded. Her eyes darkened slightly as she set her glass down with a soft 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬.
"Because, Yoko," she said coolly, "explaining the rules now would count as cheating. And I loathe cheaters."
The room fell into silence for a moment.
I couldn't say I was surprised. Celestina didn't seem fond of Yoko—and Yoko had a habit of showing respect only when she found someone charming or useful. Her flirtations and selective kindness didn't sit well with someone like Celestina, who valued control and discipline above all.
The dinner resumed, but the air had shifted—charged with tension, and the weight of what was to come.
The moment dinner ended, our group slowly dispersed, footsteps echoing down the long corridor as everyone made their way toward their rooms. Celestina, unsurprisingly, had already finished her meal long before anyone else had even picked up their spoons.
But I couldn't bring myself to return to the bedroom just yet. My mind was restless, swirling with thoughts—of the upcoming games, of Sergio's words, of Lucien's quiet intensity. I needed air. Silence. Space to think.
So, I turned away from the hallway leading to the bedrooms and quietly climbed the narrow staircase that led to the manor's hidden balcony—one not many knew about. It was a quiet place where the view was always clearer.
As I pushed the old wooden door open, the night breeze swept over me instantly. And there she was.
Inaya.
She was already there, standing still near the edge of the railing, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. Her hair danced gently in the wind, and she didn't turn when I stepped out.
She was simply… watching. Silent. Present. A part of the night itself.
I walked up slowly beside her, unsure of what to say.
She didn't say anything when I stepped beside her, and I didn't expect her to. The silence stretched comfortably between us—soft, still, like freshly fallen snow. The stars above us blinked faintly, and the lights of the manor flickered behind us, muffled and distant.
I leaned against the railing, breathing in the cold night air, letting it clear the noise in my head. Beside me, Inaya closed her eyes for a moment, as if listening to something only she could hear.
Maybe words weren't needed right now. Maybe just being there—sharing the same quiet space, standing side by side in the dark—was enough.
And for the first time that day, I felt like I could finally breathe.