Kael stepped out of the throne room. The golden doors closed behind him with a thunderous echo, as if sealing his father's harsh words inside his chest.
"I made Father angry again…" His thoughts gnawed at him, heavier than the crown he would one day bear. "The others already master shape-shifting. Yet I… I'm still trapped in this beta form. Why must I rush? There is no war anymore… no need for blood or steel…"
But even as he told himself that, doubt pressed harder.
The palace garden stretched before him, serene, its white blossoms swaying in the crisp wind of the high mountains. The sky was cloudless, the air sharp with the cold nobility of dragons. Yet Kael's heart felt far from peace.
"Why should I throw away my youth, my joy, my laughter—just to drown in endless drills and pain?"
Still… today, the boy who once found comfort in the stars felt the crushing weight of a truth he could no longer deny.
At the end of the path, beneath the vast branches of an ancient frostwood tree, stood Arya — Queen of the Ice Dragons, his mother. Her silver-white hair shimmered like falling snow, her sky-blue eyes glowing with warmth and wisdom. The moment she saw him, her face softened.
"You returned quickly, Kael," she said, her voice as gentle as falling frost.
Kael rushed forward, his small frame collapsing into her embrace. For a heartbeat, he was only a child again — safe, shielded, her warmth stronger than any armor.
"Yes, Mother…" his whisper was barely audible.
Arya tilted her head, brushing her hand over his hair.
"What did your father say?"
Kael's fists clenched against her robes. "He scolded me. Said I'm too slow… that I must master shape-shifting. But, Mother, is it truly so important? I'm only five! Am I already… a failure?"
Arya's eyes glimmered — calm, yet shadowed by pain. She stroked his cheek with a trembling hand.
"Listen well, my son. In ages long past, dragons fought wars that drenched the heavens in blood. They clashed with the dark legions of the Abyss, lost families, kingdoms, entire stars. From their suffering, they learned one law: survive or be devoured. Strength, speed, shape-shifting — all became sacred."
Kael's chest tightened. His mother's words were heavy, like chains of history wrapping around his heart.
"But," Arya continued softly, "you are not weak. True strength does not lie in rushing. It lies in will. Some dragons are born blazing like fire, others grow silently like deep rivers. You are the latter. Your time will come. And when it does…" her voice trembled with a strange certainty, "…even the sky will bow."
Kael's breath shuddered. A spark ignited in his chest. His fists tightened until his knuckles ached. He looked into her eyes, and for the first time, dared to believe.
"I'll prove it, Mother. I'll work harder than anyone. I'll make you proud. I'll make Father proud!"
The words came raw, yet full of a rising flame. Arya smiled faintly, though sorrow lingered in her gaze. She pulled him close, her whisper sealing itself into his heart:
"Never forget, Kael… every dragon carves their own path. Yours has only just begun."
The wind suddenly shifted. A strange, shivering pulse rippled through the garden air. Kael's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the empty sky.
"What was that…?"
Arya's smile faded. Her tone became grave, stripped of all melody:
"That was a call. Perhaps… the first echo of your destiny."
Kael's heart hammered. He didn't understand — not yet — but the weight of those words burned into him like fire.
---
The Training Hall
Kael entered the hall. Heat slammed into him — sweat, flame, the crash of blows like thunder. Dragons in human form sparred with earth-shaking force, while others shifted between scales and flesh, their roars rattling the pillars.
Kael's steps faltered. For a heartbeat, he stood frozen — small, uncertain. Yet within, that new spark refused to die. His gaze hardened.
Commander Darion, towering and scarred, shifted back from dragon to man. He spotted Kael and blinked, as if disbelieving.
"Prince… do you require something?"
Kael met his gaze without flinching.
"I want to train. Tell me where to begin."
Silence. Then a slow, stunned breath escaped the commander. His eyes narrowed, weighing the boy — not as a prince, but as a dragon.
"…Very well. We begin with the fundamentals. Body and spirit must first learn harmony. Are you prepared for pain, Kael?"
Kael's fists clenched, his teeth ground together. He felt his heartbeat hammer in his ears like war drums.
"I am," he said, his voice steady.
Darion's eyes flickered with something between shock and respect.
"Then come. Let us see… what fire lies hidden within you."
---
The Throne Chamber
Far above, in the golden-pillared throne chamber, the elders gathered. Their voices hissed like serpents, their words dripping doubt.
"The boy is weak."
"Even common-born hatchlings surpass him."
"A prince who cannot shift is no heir — only a shadow."
But Zagn, Emperor of the Ice Dragons, did not flinch. His gaze burned with iron. When he finally spoke, the hall froze.
"He will be the Seventh Emperor."
A silence fell heavy as stone. None dared to question it.
Yet in Zagn's heart, a storm raged. They doubt him. The clans, the elders, even the people… His hand curled into a fist upon the armrest. But they know nothing of what sleeps within my son.
His teeth clenched, his voice low and resolute.
"The world will see. And when it does… it will tremble."
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