Noa spent the entire day training relentlessly. By nightfall, exhausted, he came to the garden to gaze at the stars and fell asleep right there.
The morning sun had not yet fully risen.
The garden still slumbered beneath the heavy weight of the night.
Cold air drifted between the trees, making the dewdrops on the leaves tremble.
On the stone platform, Noa stirred. His eyes opened slowly — dark, almost black pupils.
His silver hair fell freely over his shoulders, and from his head rose two small, half-formed horns. His clothing was simple yet noble — a black tunic, a patterned belt, and violet silk ribbons draped from his shoulders. Beneath this simplicity lingered the unmistakable scent of royalty.
"My son, are you awake?"
The voice reached him like frost carried on a gentle breeze.
Noa lifted his head. Before him stood a woman with snow-white hair cascading down her back, her face serene, her blue eyes calm as a winter sky.
"Mother…" he said quietly, hesitating.
"Do you come here every morning?"
Arya approached, knelt beside him, and smiled tenderly.
"No, Noa. Whenever you are here, I always come to see you."
Warmth spread through his chest, yet beneath that warmth pressed a heavy burden.
He lowered his gaze.
"…Mother, one question has been tormenting me. Am I truly a high dragon?"
Arya brushed his hair with a soft yet steady hand.
"You are truly a high dragon. Sometimes even those without strong innate talent exist, but through hard work they can reach the level of the gifted."
Noa's jaw tightened. Niva — the humanoid form of dragons.
According to ancient law, a child was born in the shape their mother held during pregnancy.
Nowadays, most dragons lived in Niva form, and so their children were born wingless — resembling humans.
The children of high dragons were the same; at the age of three, they would shed that form and be reborn in their true draconic nature.
But that "later" had long since passed. His peers were already soaring through the skies.
He hadn't even felt the shadow of wings.
"They've all changed," he whispered. "But me… nothing."
Arya wrapped him in her arms, her voice firm and warm.
"You are not like the others, Noa. Even if your form still sleeps, your heart carries great power. Be patient."
The words had barely settled in his chest when a sharp voice sliced through the air:
"Prince Noa! His Majesty summons you — immediately!"
A servant came running and bowed deeply.
Noa stood up, every muscle taut.
"Thank you." He nodded, then turned to his mother.
"Will I be able to become strong?"
Arya smiled softly.
"Of course, my son."
He left the garden. Along the stone path, other dragons turned to stare — some whispered, others laughed openly.
The elders watched with heavy, judgmental eyes.
Their gazes pierced him like needles, yet Noa maintained a faint smile. Beneath that smile, his chest constricted, his jaw trembled, his teeth pressed together until they ached.
The rumors had already spread far and wide — the prince incapable of transformation; the heir who might never awaken.
A representative of a talentless clan.
By the time the palace doors came into view, his heart pounded like a war drum.
He entered the grand hall and bowed deeply.
"Father… the trial is today."
The Dragon Emperor looked down at him with neither warmth nor hatred — only cold unease.
"That is correct. This will decide everything," he said.
His voice grew colder as he began to reprimand:
"You avoid training. You do not carry yourself like a prince."
Cold sweat trickled down Noa's back. His throat felt constricted.
The Emperor's voice sharpened further. "Have you swallowed your tongue?"
Noa clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
"I'm doing everything I can, Father."
The Emperor gave a cold, cutting laugh.
"Everything you can? You've barely left the library."
Noa ground his teeth.
Heat rose in his chest.
"I will train even harder… I won't run away anymore."
The Emperor's expression remained unchanged.
"Now it is already too late for that. You should have done so long ago."
Noa lifted his head.
"Father, you know perfectly well…"
Zagn ignored him and continued.
"I have brought a creature for you," said the Emperor. "Third-class. At dawn, you will face it. You will decide — if the heir cannot prove himself, then he is no heir at all."
Cold spread through Noa's veins. Still, he bowed.
"I understand, Father."
"This trial will show who you truly are," he added.
The first elder standing beside Zagn stepped forward.
"The other dragon heirs defeated such creatures with ease. If you cannot…"
His eyes narrowed.
"…then what awaits you will be worse than death."
The words struck like iron. Noa turned sharply, fists trembling, and left the hall.
From the shadowed corridor, Arya watched her son disappear beyond the palace doors. Her heart ached with pain.
Noa… how can they send you — a boy who wouldn't even harm a fly — into such a trial? You are not ready. Even I cannot tell you the truth — if you knew what sleeps inside you… if you knew who you truly are…
would you still call me mother? Would you not come to hate both your father and me? I cannot allow that to happen, she whispered to herself.