The night was unusually quiet as Elba stirred from his sleep, his throat dry. He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to him like a fog that wouldn't lift. The room was dim, the soft glow of the moon spilling through the window, casting shadows across the dorm. Elba glanced over at Lucas, who was snoring softly, before slipping out of bed.
He made his way to the small corner of the room, gulping down water from a bottle. As the cool liquid ran down his throat, his eyes were drawn to the moon outside. It was hanging high, silver and pure, illuminating the world below in a pale, ghostly glow. There was something about it tonight, something that pulled him in. Unable to resist, Elba quietly crept out of the room and up to the rooftop for a better view.
Once on the rooftop, the full majesty of the moon hit him. He stood there, unmoving, as if rooted to the spot. The moon's beauty was captivating, but there was an irony to it. It was bright, serene, and distant—so unlike the turmoil in his heart. The moon was constant, yet his life was anything but.
He thought back to simpler times, to his home, where the mornings were filled with his mother's calls and the warmth of his father's steady presence. But now, here he was, alone on a rooftop under the same moon, yet nothing was the same. The world felt heavier, like a giant puzzle with too many pieces missing. He was like a tree that had lost its roots, still standing, but unsure of how long before it would topple.
"Isn't nature strange?" he muttered to himself. "The moon, the sky...they all seem so perfect, yet they hide their chaos. Just like me." His thoughts turned to the complexity of life itself. The trees swayed with the breeze, but beneath the soil, their roots tangled in a struggle for survival. The clouds drifted peacefully, yet inside them storms brewed, waiting to unleash havoc. Everything seemed to have a duality to it—just like his life.
And as if on cue, a voice broke the silence.
"Enjoying the view, are we?" The voice was rich, filled with pride and authority, and it seemed to come from deep within Elba, resonating through every fiber of his being.
Elba froze, his breath catching in his throat. His heart pounded. "Who... who are you?" he asked, his voice shaky, eyes scanning the empty rooftop.
"I am someone who dwells within you," the voice replied, slow and deliberate, with an edge of amusement. "A part of you—connected to your dragon lineage. I've been watching, and I was a bit worried about you. So I've broken a rule to speak to you."
Elba's mind raced. "A rule? What do you mean?"
The voice chuckled, a deep rumble that sent a shiver down his spine. "I am Tempist, a dragon spirit. I am not connected to your powers directly, but through your bloodline. I've dwelled within you, silent... until now. But something is about to happen, and I couldn't stay silent any longer. Watch your back, kid, or you might die."
Elba's stomach twisted as his hands clenched into fists. "What do you mean by that? What's coming?" But there was no answer. Only the wind whispered in his ears now.
His breath quickened as he slowly turned around, the weight of the dragon's warning hanging over him. Something was behind him—something that had caused even a dragon spirit to break its silence.
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