Morning After Victory
Sunlight broke over the capital, spilling through crystalline windows and bathing the marble halls of House Virelith in a golden haze.
Kael Virelith stood alone on a balcony, a cup of bitterroot tea in one hand, sword sheathed on his back, hair tousled from sleep and the wind. Below, the city buzzed with news of the duel. His name danced on noble tongues again.
He should've felt triumph. Instead, he only felt… tired.
Behind him, the double doors creaked open.
"You just got back, and already showing off," came a voice.
Kael didn't turn. He didn't need to. It was his cousin — the one who used to mock him when they were younger. The one who never forgave him for being born of "tainted" blood.
"I thought showing off was a Virelith tradition," Kael said casually. "I'm simply honoring our heritage."
His cousin scoffed. "You think beating Raythe means you belong again?"
Kael turned then, slowly. His smile was faint, but his eyes were cold.
"No," he said. "I never stopped belonging. You all just got used to pretending I was gone."
He walked past his cousin without waiting for a response.
As he passed through the corridors, servants stopped and bowed. Some did so out of duty. A few — the older ones — with a flicker of something close to affection. Maybe pity. Maybe memory.
Kael didn't know which hurt more.
The Summon
Later that morning, a royal courier arrived bearing the seal of the First Family.
Kael read the message once. Then again.
The King wanted to speak to him.
Alone.
Audience with the King
The royal chamber was vast, walled with silver-etched glass, sunlight refracting into dozens of rays. At its center stood King Thalorien, regal in dark blue robes, silver hair neatly tied back, his eyes piercing like winter steel.
Kael bowed low — not out of reverence, but respect.
"Rise, boy," the King said. "You've caused quite the storm."
Kael straightened. "I tend to do that."
The king studied him in silence for a moment.
"Your duel with Raythe — impressive. But what caught my attention wasn't your fire, or even your wind."
He stepped forward, voice dropping.
"It was the thunder."
Kael said nothing.
The king's eyes narrowed. "You wielded thunder. Then your dragon arrived… cloaked in black lightning."
He paused. "You know how rare that dragon is?"
Kael answered, "Everyone knows."
The king nodded. "Then you also know only a handful of Thalorien bloodlines in all of recorded history have bonded with thunder dragons. Even fewer have survived the attempt. You're a half-blood, Kael. You shouldn't have lived."
Kael's jaw tightened, but he didn't flinch.
"I didn't force the bond," he said. "It chose me."
"Why?" the king pressed. "What did it see in you that even full-blooded heirs lack?"
Kael looked away. His voice, when it came, was quiet.
"I don't know. I only know that… when it came for me, I didn't run."
The king's eyes flickered, seeing something behind Kael's gaze — pain, defiance, fire.
"You're your father's son," he said at last.
Kael looked up. "You knew him well?"
The king nodded. "We were brothers in arms before we were kings. He chose your mother, against every law, every warning."
"She was Virelith. He was Thalorien. It was never going to be easy."
"It was worse," the king said. "After you were born, she was murdered. And when he couldn't protect her, your father—"
Kael's voice cut in, quiet and sharp.
"—threw himself from the Sky Hall."
A long silence.
"I was there," Kael said. "I was three. I don't remember the fall… but I remember the sound."
Thunder outside rumbled faintly, though the skies were clear.
The king finally spoke.
"I mourned them both. But you… you disappeared. Until now."
Kael shrugged. "I had things to learn. Wounds to bury."
"And dragons to befriend?" the king said, tone suddenly sharp again.
Kael smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Something like that."
The King's Challenge
The king turned toward the far balcony, where the royal arena was barely visible in the distance — empty for now, but always waiting.
"I don't believe in coincidences, Kael," the king said. "And I don't believe in miracles."
He looked over his shoulder.
"If your dragon truly chose you… then prove it."
Kael blinked. "You want me to—?"
The king raised his hand. "A dragon duel. You and your bonded beast — against mine."
Kael's heart stilled.
The king's dragon. A creature known as the Storm Sovereign. An elder beast of the skies. Pure-blood bonded. A living tempest.
"You want me to fight the Storm Sovereign?" Kael asked, voice almost amused.
"I want to see what that black thunder of yours is really made of," the king said.
Kael met the king's gaze. Defiant. Calm.
"Then I hope your beast is ready for disappointment."