The air in the capital of Orestes was different on the morning of their departure. The heavy, oppressive silver mist that had draped the city since the Dragon's awakening had finally thinned, leaving behind a sky the color of polished steel. The sun, a pale disc behind the lingering mountain clouds, cast long, sharp shadows across the obsidian courtyard of the Royal Palace.
Aster stood by the lead carriage, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. The vehicle was a marvel of Orestian engineering—heavy, reinforced with ironwood, and etched with runes that allowed it to glide over the jagged mountain passes with minimal vibration. Beside him, Astra was checking their luggage for the third time, her movements quick and nervous, a stark contrast to their mother, Arliene, who stood with a serene, regal posture, her eyes fixed on the massive iron gates of the castle.
They weren't just leaving a kingdom; they were leaving after creating a piece of history that will be remembered for decades.
The heavy doors of the palace groaned open, and a small procession emerged. At the center was Elian, no longer the soot-stained urchin of the slums, but a young prince dressed in fine charcoal-grey silks and a cloak fastened with a silver dragon brooch. Behind him walked King Boron, his presence as massive as a cliffside, and Princess Lumine, whose usual sharp gaze was softened by a layer of melancholy.
Elian didn't wait for protocol. He broke rank from the royal party and ran toward the twins, his boots clattering against the stone. He threw his arms around Aster first, burying his face in the older boy's coat, then reached out to pull Astra into the embrace.
"Thank you," Elian whispered, his voice thick with tears that he no longer tried to hide. "Thank you for hearing me when I was just a dirty kid in the market. Thank you for making me... for making me not an orphan."
Aster, usually stiff and uncomfortable with physical displays of emotion, didn't pull away. He placed a steadying hand on Elian's head. "You were never a dirty kid, Elian. You were always a prince with royal blood, but you got lost for a few years. Now you found your family because you had the courage to sing. Remember that."
Astra hugged the boy back tightly, her own eyes shimmering. "We're going to miss your voice, little dragon. But you have a whole kingdom to sing to now. Don't let the palace walls make you quiet."
Elian stepped back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, leaving a smudge on his expensive silk. "Can't you stay? Just... just a little longer? The instructors the King hired are so serious. They don't understand music like you do. I don't know if I can do this without you."
Aster shook his head, his expression returning to its trademark logical calm, though his eyes remained soft. "No, Elian. We have stayed far longer than planned. There is work waiting in Wynfall that cannot be ignored. The world is changing—the dragons proved that—and I need to be at my own desk to figure out why. We've given you the spark; the fire is yours to keep."
"Take care Elian, This is not a goodbye forever. We will see eachother someday."
King Boron stepped forward, his shadow looming over the group. He looked at Aster with the same grudging respect that had defined their relationship since the Moon-Feast. He didn't offer a hug, nor did his voice lose its gravelly, cold edge, but the words he spoke carried the weight of a royal decree.
"Prince Aster, Princess Astra," Boron began, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "Orestes is a nation built on debt and iron. You came here seeking a trade deal and left us with a god and a blood-heir. The debt we owe the 'Silver Snowflakes' is one that cannot be repaid with magic stones alone."
He looked toward the horizon, where the Sentry's Crown stood tall. "The borders of this mountain are always open to you. You are no longer mere guests; you are kin of the stone. If anyone in the lowlands gives you trouble, you tell them they have an appointment with the Iron King, and you can always count on me if you guys need any help."
He offered a short, stiff nod—the Orestian equivalent of a profound bow. "Go now. Before the snows block the high passes and I'm forced to host you for another winter."
A Promise in the Mist
Lumine remained behind for a moment as the King guided Elian back toward the Orestes Palace. And she looked at Astra, Astra can tell how lumine feels just from seeing her face, Lumine looked like she was about to cry..
"Don't look like you're attending a funeral, Lumine!" Astra said, reaching out to squeeze the Princess's hand. "Orestes isn't that far from Wynfall. If we have time, we'll visit. Or better yet, you can come to our territory. We have gardens that don't glow, but they're much softer to sit in than these rocks."
Lumine managed a small, sad smile. "I'll hold you to that, Astra."
Then, her gaze shifted to Aster. The confident and Intelligent Princess seemed to struggle for words. She stepped into Aster's space, her eyes searching his pale, composed face.
"Take care of yourself, Aster," she said softly, loud enough only for him to hear. "And... remember me, okay? Don't get so buried in your research that you forget me and the time we spent together okay."
Aster felt the heat rise to his cheeks instantly, the faint pink hue clashing with his silver hair. He looked down, then back up, meeting her gaze with a rare, flustered sincerity. "I... I'm not the type to forget important things okay, and I will always remember the days we spent in this mountain nation till the day I die, no matter what ?."
Astra giggled behind her hand, and even Arliene hid a smile behind her fan.
The Journey Begins
The twins and their mother climbed into the carriage. The interior was plush, smelling of cedar and expensive Orestian leather. As the driver cracked the whip and the heavy wheels began to turn, the iron gates of the castle slowly began to swing shut.
Aster leaned out of the window, waving his hand as the figures of Elian, Lumine, and the King grew smaller in the distance. Elian was waving frantically, both arms in the air, while Lumine stood perfectly still, watching the carriage until it became a mere speck against the grey stone.
As the city of Orestes fell behind them and the carriage entered the winding mountain passes, the silence inside the cabin became comfortable. Astra leaned her head against the window, watching the jagged cliffs go by.
"We really did it, didn't we?" she asked.
"We did," Aster replied, already pulling a leather-bound notebook from his bag. He opened it to a fresh page and drew a rough sketch of two dragons—one gold, one silver—circling a central point.
"What are you doing already?" Astra groaned. "We haven't even crossed the border!"
"The resonance between the two dragons wasn't just physical," Aster said, his eyes sharpening as he returned to his element. "It was harmonic. first the golden dragon appeared when we were performing a concert and now the silver dragon also appeared during a concert and I think there's some connection between the Sound magic and the Ancient Dragons and also why they were sleeping all these years."
Arliene looked at her children—the brilliant, obsessed son and the empathetic, talented daughter. "The world is going to be a very different place by the time we get home, isn't it?"
"It already is, Mother," Aster said, his pen scratching against the paper.
The carriage continued its descent, leaving the land of iron and silver behind. The journey back to Wynfall would take days, but for Aster, the journey into the heart of the world's greatest mystery was only just beginning. As the sun sets behind them, They were traveling towards their future.
***
The carriage rumbled steadily through the Whispering Pines, a dense forest that served as the natural border between Orestes and the lowlands. By the time the moon had reached its zenith, the party decided to strike camp. This particular stretch of woods was historically renowned for its safety—a "neutral zone".
They shared a quiet meal by a low-burning fire, the crackle of wood the only sound against the heavy silence of the trees. Trusting in the forest's reputation, Astra and Arliene eventually retreated to the reinforced carriage to sleep, while Aster stayed up late into the night, and eventually he also went to sleep.
However, the peace was shattered at midnight.
The lead guard, a seasoned Orestian veteran, suddenly let out a sharp, guttural cry. "To arms! We are not alone!"
In an instant, the silence was replaced by the frantic clanging of steel and the heavy breathing of soldiers waking from a deep slumber. Aster woke up from his sleep, his eyes snapping to the treeline. Shadows were moving—dozens of them—slick and silent, far too organized to be mere mountain bandits.
"Protect the Royals!" the Captain roared, drawing his claymore.
Figures emerged from the darkness, clad in light, obsidian-tinted leather that swallowed the moonlight. They moved with a lethal, practiced grace. Aster felt the gold in his blood burn with a warning hum. These weren't men looking for coin or jewelry. They were professional killers, and their eyes were fixed solely on the carriage.
Either they were just bandits or paid assassins sent by someone to kill or kidnap the royals, It doesn't matter now. And One thing was certainly clear: the journey home had just turned into a fight for survival.
**************