1356 ASB, Month of January.
Deep within the heart of the sacred forest, a fateful encounter unfolded between a boy and a girl.
It had only been a short time since Silva Steinert's seventh birthday when she departed from Beaufort City, carried by a solemn procession toward the ancient and mystical Ald Forest—the hallowed land said to be the dwelling place of the Mother Dragon.
This wasn't a leisure journey.
This was the Orphan Ceremony—a sacred rite required of all those born into the Royal Knight Families. A test of spirit, bloodline, and fate itself.
To enter the forest meant surrendering to its will. If chosen by the Mother Dragon, one would be marked with the Fang Mark, and from that moment on, become a Breeder—a rider destined to bond with a dragon.
Silva's small hands trembled as she stood at the edge of the towering woods, her silver-blonde hair catching the filtered light. Her violet eyes, usually brimming with resolve, were now cloudy with memory and silent pain.
She wasn't here simply to fulfill her royal duty. She was here for him. Her beloved brother—Elohkar Steinert—once the pride of the nation, a prodigy who'd earned the title Dragonborn in his early teens. The one called the "Dragon Slayer."
He had vanished. Not in body, but in honor. Rumors spoke of an unforgivable act. That Elohkar had killed his own dragon—his Par. But Silva refused to believe it.
She remembered the way he used to ruffle her hair, the soft warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength in his words. He had always been gentle—far too gentle to ever hurt a dragon, let alone one bonded to his soul.
Her heart ached with unanswered questions.
Why did you disappear? Why did you leave me behind?
And so, she had made a vow—to face the trial, to earn the right to stand before the Mother Dragon, and to return as a Breeder. Only then would she gain the strength to search for Elohkar... and demand the truth from him, face-to-face.
Dressed in ceremonial white robes that clung softly to her young frame, Silva stepped into the mist-veiled glade where the Orphan Ceremony would take place. The forest was silent, save for the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft thrum of ancient magic in the air.
Unaware that fate had already begun to weave the threads of her future, Silva took her first steps into the unknown. There, amid the sacred silence of Ald's trees, a boy waited.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.༄
"Stoooooop!"
Though her cry echoed with conviction, Ald Forest was no gentle place for a girl, no matter how determined she claimed to be.
The trees towered endlessly, their ancient trunks stretching so high they disappeared into a haze of mist and light. The air was thick with moisture, the scent of rotting leaves and wet earth clinging to every breath. It wasn't the kind of place a pampered noblewoman was meant to survive.
Every time Silva saw a rat scurry across her path, or a snake slither through the undergrowth, or even a spider descend from the trees, she screamed and ran blindly through the thicket. She yearned to be a knight—a proud heir of the Steinert bloodline—but the truth was painfully clear: Silva was timid to her core.
And eventually, she tripped.
A sharp cry escaped her lips as she fell, twisting her slender ankle beneath her weight. The pain was sharp, unforgiving—like fire under her skin. She tried to rise, teeth gritted in frustration, but her leg refused to obey.
"Sob…" she whimpered.
Her only solace was a worn stuffed toy she had clutched to her chest like a talisman. Its name was Lancelot. She had bought it in Arkheim years ago during a visit to the Alethia Kingdom, captivated by its odd charm. While others scoffed—her maids sneering that it looked nothing like a dragon—Silva had adored it ever since.
But now, even Lancelot could do nothing to help her. Tears ran down her cheeks in silence.
The Orphan Ceremony would end soon. She'd have to return to Beaufort empty-handed, her Fang Crest unawakened. A failure. A disgrace. Not even worthy of the dragon she'd dreamed of bonding with.
"Sob… sob…" Silva hated this weakness. She hated her tears, hated her frailty—but no matter how strong her will, her injured leg betrayed her. That's when she heard it—rustling in the underbrush just ahead. "Hic…"
She froze.
From the thick foliage, a boy emerged.
He was about her age—slightly taller, with tousled chestnut hair and wild green eyes that shimmered with quiet mischief. His clothes were scuffed, his knees dirty from wandering. One look at him, and she knew—he was another candidate for the Orphan Ceremony.
He stepped toward her, casual but unafraid, and extended his hand.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was gentle.
But Silva immediately slapped his hand away with a red face.
"N-No!" she barked, as if insulted. Her pride as a royal was pricked by the simple question.
Still, when she tried to stand, her body betrayed her. Pain flared, and her foot gave way. Lancelot slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground.
"Huh?" the boy blinked, picking it up.
"Is this... a Chimera?"
"A dragon!" she shot back instantly, cheeks burning. "Lancelot is a dragon!"
The boy chuckled softly.
"Okay, okay. A dragon. My mistake." He gave a sheepish smile and knelt in front of her again.
"...What do you think you're doing?" Silva asked, suspicious.
"I'm giving you a piggyback," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"What?! That means... you're taking me back! That means I'm giving up!"
"Of course," he nodded. "You can't look for dragons with a busted leg."
"Shut up!" she shouted, shocking him. "I-I need a Par! I won't give up now!"
"A... Par?" he echoed.
"How can you not know that?! A Par is a dragon—a sacred partner, your soul's other half! Every true knight has one!"
"R-Right..."
She wasn't done. "What about you? Why aren't you looking for your dragon? Or... are you just pretending?"
The boy's face flushed red. "I-I do want to meet one... I think," he murmured, rubbing the back of his head.
Despite herself, Silva felt her anger ebbing. "Then let's go," she said firmly. "I'll recite the Steinert family motto. Listen closely!"
She stood up proudly—wincing slightly from the pain—and shouted:
"A knight's pride is with their dragon!"
"...Wait," the boy said, concern in his voice. "If I leave you here, won't you be lonely?"
Her lips parted, but no sound came. That word—lonely—cut deeper than anything else.
"Tch... Don't act strong just for show," the boy said softly.
"But to give up just because of an injury... never!" she snapped back.
He grinned.
"Got it. You want an Orphan no matter what, huh?"
She nodded.
"Then there's only one way." His expression turned serious as he looked straight into her eyes. For a second, her heart skipped. "We'll look for the Mother Dragon together. I'll carry you the whole way."
She blinked. "...Really?"
"Of course."
And then—he knelt again, offering his back.
Her breath caught in her throat. She hesitated for only a moment before climbing onto him. Her cheeks brushed against his neck. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Let's go." With those words, the boy began walking—carrying her deeper into the forest.