I was royalty.
The last surviving heir of a fallen kingdom—brought to ruin by the unrelenting power of Lesage after a long, bitter six-year war. I was only sixteen, and already my world had unraveled completely. My parents—the King and Queen—were gone. My robes were torn, my body ached, and my servants wept as they were herded through the cold stone corridors beside me.
We hadn't escaped in time.
None of us had.
The dungeon air bit into my skin, damp and heavy, pressing silence against my chest. One by one, my people were lined up beneath the dim torchlight. I stood at the end—the youngest, shaking, forcing myself not to cry. The guards—Dragoon Knights clad in darkened armor—watched us without a single word, their expressions hidden behind steel.
Then… he arrived.
A child.
Just like me. Or so I thought.
He walked in calmly, dressed in navy silk threaded with gold, a strange regal aura clinging to him like smoke. Curved horns rose from his dark hair, and a scaled tail trailed behind him as he moved. The knights bowed deeply as he passed, reverent—fearful—as though he were royalty itself.
But he didn't look like a monster.
He looked… quiet. Almost uncertain.
When his golden eyes met mine, he hesitated—just for a heartbeat—then looked away, almost embarrassed. For a moment, I thought he might be like me. Another child trapped in a fate far larger than himself.
I was wrong.
A voice rang out beside him, sharp and cold.
"Make them drink our dragon blood. Let us see who is worthy to serve our King."
My servants cried out—confused, terrified. The air thickened with whispers and the soft clatter of armor.
The first woman stepped forward. She had once sung lullabies in the palace nursery, her voice gentle enough to calm any storm. With trembling hands, she sipped the glowing liquid.
Her eyes widened.
Light engulfed her—and in an instant, she vanished.
No scream. No trace. Only silence.
The second changed.
I couldn't explain how—only that when he rose to his feet, he was no longer the man I knew. His gaze was empty, hollow. Without a word, he turned and walked away, like a shadow torn loose by the wind.
The third fell to her knees.
Her hands shook violently. Tears streamed down her face. But instead of looking at me—her queen—she bowed.
Not to me.
To them.
And then, it was my turn.
My legs refused to move. My breath came shallow, burning my chest. The knights urged me forward—gently, firmly—hands on my shoulders, as though pity and obedience could exist together.
The goblet gleamed with otherworldly light.
As it was lifted toward my lips—
The boy stepped forward.
"Let me do it," he said softly.
For a heartbeat, hope flickered.
But I didn't yet know the truth.
Behind that quiet face hid the tyrant King of Dragons—the one who never forgave humans.