The sun cast its final rays beyond the horizon.
Crimson streaks bled across the sky—as if the heavens themselves had been torn open and wounded.
The wind whistled through the ancient walls, carrying the icy breath of the approaching night.
Noa tilted his head back slightly, his gaze fixed on the blood-red clouds.
Every crimson flash reminded him of lost pain—of days that had slipped away forever.
Rion halted a few steps behind, suspicion and vigilance mingling in his eyes.
> "The sun is setting," he said in a low but steady voice. "Darkness will fall soon. It's the perfect time to enter the palace."
Noa snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Rion. He bit his lip, unable to hide the torment buried deep in his heart.
> "The palace…" he whispered, pain lurking beneath his calm tone. "Yes. That cursed place."
His hands clenched into fists.
> "I wish everything I've heard was a lie, Rion. Maybe this time… someone will actually be waiting for me."
Rion stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.
> "Sometimes the truth hides in the most painful places," he said quietly. "If you don't face it, it will never let you go."
Noa gave a faint, sorrowful smile.
> "In my childhood, I remember the palace like this—white walls, silver pillars, music dancing between the winds…
Grandeur and majesty, and yet now it all feels like nothing but darkness."
Rion looked toward the capital. The dying light of the sun gleamed on the empire's towers—like gold dipped in blood.
> "Every empire conceals its own darkness," he murmured. "The difference is: some command it… others are devoured by it."
A moment of silence. The wind ruffled Noa's hair.
> "Then I will command it," he declared firmly. "This time, the past will not consume me."
Rion gave a subtle nod.
They continued in silence. The sun vanished. The palace towers now rose tall beneath the veil of night—like ancient dragons slumbering in the shadows.
Every step drew them closer to the palace, to the heart of their pain and secrets.
And the wind, like the whisper of the past, murmured behind them:
> "Those who return… never truly change."
---
The moon's pale light hung overhead, a thin mist unveiling the capital's silhouette.
In the distance, the palace glimmered faintly—a solitary lantern in the abyss.
Noa drew a deep breath. His legs ached from exhaustion.
> "The palace… why does it feel so far away?" he muttered. "We've walked four, maybe five hours—and it's still distant."
Rion straightened his shoulders, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
> "We teleported to the city's outskirts," he said calmly. "This is the old quarter. Dragons born here are weak—considered frail from their very first breath."
Noa fell silent, glancing around.
Empty streets, crumbling walls, shattered towers—this was a place where glory had long since died.
Rion continued:
> "But the central district… it's an entirely different world. Pure-blooded dragons live there—power, pride, wealth—all theirs.
To them, the dragons here are nothing but trash."
Noa bit his lip.
> "Yes, I know. They often spoke worse of me than even of these. But even when I lived in the palace, I never realized just how vast the capital truly was…"
Rion gave a brief nod.
> "Everyone sees the world through their own window,
Silence returned. Their footsteps echoed softly on the damp path.
Then Rion suddenly stopped. Noa frowned—Rion's shoulders began to tremble.
A faint hum filled the air.
From between his shoulder blades, two crimson wings slowly unfurled.
As they spread wide into the sky, sparks of light shimmered in the darkness.
Noa stepped back in astonishment.
> "Rion… those wings…"
Rion smiled faintly, though his eyes remained grave.
> "We're wasting too much time on foot. Flying at night is safer—no one can recognize us now."
Noa chuckled softly.
> "You could've said that earlier."
Rion laughed under his breath.
> "During the day, the skies are full of dragons. They know every shadow.
Now, night is our only disguise."
He extended his hand.
> "Hold on tight."
Noa hesitated for a heartbeat, then grasped it. The palm was warm—a reassuring heat that cut through the cold.
> "Alright…" he whispered.
Rion spread his wings wide.
The air roared, lifting them from the ground.
Their feet touched the earth one last time—then they soared skyward.
Below, the old quarter vanished into darkness. Ahead—the golden towers, blue-lit palaces, faint silhouettes of flying dragons—all drew nearer.
Night embraced them, yet the palace's glow stabbed straight through Noa's heart.
---
Rion angled his wings, gliding lower. The wind whipped their faces, tossing their hair backward like waves.
Below—city lights flickered; above—an endless, silent sky.
Now the palace stood clear: protective runes spiraling along its walls.
Vigilant dragons hovered nearby; layers of shimmering shields laced the air.
Approaching this place uninvited was nearly impossible.
Rion locked his gaze on the palace, adjusting his flight.
> "The aerial defenses are formidable," he said gravely. "Crossing from above is suicide. But…"
He dipped downward, wings slicing the air.
> "…if we descend at a sixty-degree angle, weave like a serpent, then glide one hundred meters below at fifty degrees—they won't detect us.
This route was built by the Emperor's own spies. I call it the Rift Path."
He smirked.
> "They built defenses to protect the palace—yet created a crack that could destroy it.
That's the greatest irony."
Noa remained silent, watching his every move intently.
> "Rion," he said softly, voice heavy. "You're brilliant beyond belief. We're almost the same age, yet between us… there's such a vast gulf."
Rion smiled faintly without losing focus.
> "High-blooded dragons are born with advantages, Noa. It's not surprising."
Noa looked down.
Beneath them, the city lights glittered like tiny stars.
He saw his reflection in those lights—always trailing behind, always fading.
> "Yes," he murmured. "Not surprising. But what astonishes me… is that I never had any potential at all."
The words hung in the air, heavy as stone. The wind could not carry them away.
Rion glanced at him—long, silent, thoughtful.
A brief pain flickered in his eyes… then resolve.
He turned forward again.
His wings carved through the night as they descended along the Rift Path, faster and lower—
merging into the city's shadow, invisible to the watchers above.
Noa clung tightly to Rion's waist as the wind grew stronger.
Each wingbeat carried them between freedom and peril—
each second brought them one step closer to fate.
The palace was now within reach.
But neither knew what awaited them.
### The Palace Tower
The wind howled relentlessly atop the tower.
Behind black curtains, a dim, flickering light danced.
By the window stood a dragon in human form, clad in a long black robe.
Half his face was shrouded in shadow.
His fingers traced the glass as his eyes followed two faint silhouettes flying toward the palace.
A slow, chilling smile curled his lips.
> "At last… you've returned, little brother."
His voice dripped with cold delight—laced with mockery and hatred as sharp as blades.
In the window's reflection, two armored figures appeared behind him—
black steel and long coats, the imperial dragon insignia gleaming on their shoulders.
They moved without a sound, faces blank, presence suffocating.
> "You saw them, didn't you?" the dark figure asked softly, each word heavy as iron.
The first guard bowed.
> "Yes, my lord. Two of them."
Silence stretched—then the dragon turned slowly, a faint smile on his lips.
> "So your eyes are sharp."
The guard gave a nervous smile.
> "Thank you, my lord—"
He never finished.
A sharp, slicing sound—shhk!
His eyes widened in shock.
Silence. Then his head fell.
Blood sprayed across the wall; his body lurched forward before collapsing lifelessly.
The severed head rolled to a stop on the marble floor.
The second guard froze, terror choking him.
> "H-how… when… he was standing right beside me—"
He couldn't even raise his hands.
> "M-my lord… please, I—"
The dark dragon stepped forward. His boots echoed—cold, deliberate.
He spoke softly:
> "Since when did you think your eyes were sharp enough to track my brother without permission…?"
He still held the severed head—gripping it by the hair, blood dripping onto the floor.
His icy eyes pierced the trembling guard.
> "You filthy curs, I hope you didn't report to the first captain right away."
He hurled the head at the wall—thud!—the sound shattering the silence like thunder.
The dragon turned back to the window, gazing down at the city below.
The empire's sky had already lost the sun's final light.
He whispered—words like frost on steel:
> "Hide while you can, little brother.
But remember—in this city, this empire, even this sky… there is no place for you.
If you're caught, I won't hand you over to anyone—I'll kill you myself."
Friends, what do you think? Please share your thoughts in the comments. Don't forget to add this novel to your library. Power Stones and Golden Tickets help chapters come out faster and give me great motivation