"My sons, my precious daughter," the king's voice rumbled through the hall.
"Yes, Father," we answered in unison, our voices a chorus of respect.
King Pyralis Astafel, my father, sat upon his golden throne. The Golden Scale, the mighty dragon who had chosen him as its vessel, rested on both his shoulders like twin cauldrons of power. It glimmered with an ethereal light, a symbol of his dominion over Astafel. He was the chosen of the Golden Scale, the one who could see the threads of fate.
The Golden Scale dragon, a creature capable of forging gold from its very scales, granted unimaginable powers—among them, the gift of clairvoyance. My father's foresight came in fragmented dreams, visions that were unclear but enough to hint at the future. It was said that, with time, this gift would sharpen and grow stronger.
My sister Ignis was the most likely to inherit the full extent of this gift. My brother and I, however, could only catch fleeting glimpses of the future—mere seconds—during moments of intense combat. But even such limited insight had made us formidable in battle, and we'd trained relentlessly to hone this rare skill.
"How have you been, my children?" Father asked, his gaze falling upon Firel, my elder brother and the crown prince. Firel, strong and wise, was everything I admired. But beneath our shared respect was an ever-present tension—the unspoken truth that only one of us could inherit the Golden Scale's power.
"We've fared well, Father. We await your return eagerly," Firel replied, his voice steady, betraying no sign of the burden he bore.
Father's sharp eyes turned to me. "Felix, I've heard you've been playing knight. Remember your place. You are a prince of Astafel."
The weight of his words was a challenge, a command that left little room for dispute.
"Father, I'm simply getting to know my future comrades," I answered, hoping to appease him, though I could sense my brother's displeasure from the corner of my eye. All attention was now on me.
"Hmm," Father muttered, his brow furrowing slightly in thought.
"Father?" Ignis spoke, her voice soft but commanding. "May I share something?"
"Go on, my dear," he allowed, gesturing for her to continue.
"I've forseen a dragon," Ignis said, her voice laced with both awe and fear. "A mighty and powerful one, masterless."
Father's expression darkened at the words. Ignis had always been a conduit for the Golden Scale's foresight, and her prophecies were not to be taken lightly.
"Yes, Father, she speaks the truth," Firel added. "We've had reports of this dragon—its sightings are frequent. And our enemy Del Air, along with Whitestone, the queen's land, seems intent on claiming it. They've sent many potential heroes to seek it."
My father rose from his throne, his golden scale gleaming ominously as he called for the vice commander. "Cole, investigate the activities in the north. We may be facing war, or worst. We must prepare."
"It will be done, Your Majesty," Vice Commander Cole answered, bowing low.
"War?" I asked, confusion and concern rippling through me.
"Yes, son, war," Father said, his voice grim. "If this dragon is as powerful as Ignis claims, it could choose a human to wield its power. We must prepare for the worst. If the wrong person gains control, the consequences could be catastrophic."
"I do not foresee war" Ignis interjected, her voice calm but firm.
"Better safe than sorry, my dearest daughter," Father replied, his tone brokering no argument. "In the meantime, prepare the knights. Hold an inauguration ceremony. I wish to see their skills before winter."
As if on cue, my mother entered, her white hair cascading like a waterfall of snow. The room grew still, the weight of her presence undeniable. My mother, Queen Selene, hailed from Whitestone. Though her icy demeanor often kept us at arm's length, she was a woman of power and mystery—and my father's greatest love.
"The King need not worry about the affairs of my father's lands, the Sage will content the dragon." she declared as she approached the throne, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Mother," Firel began, but he was quickly interrupted.
"I foresee the dragon's wrath," Ignis spoke again, this time her eyes glowing a brilliant yellow as she slipped into her trance-like clairvoyance. "It will fly over Whitestone, unleashing its blue flames, for something precious has been taken from it."
A silence fell over the room as we all processed her words. My heart clenched, the air thick with the weight of what had been said. Will this offend our mother unpredictable nature.
"Father?" I called out, unsure of what to make of the vision.
Father's face remained unreadable as he turned to my mother. There was a brief, silent exchange between them, one that I could not decipher.
"Ignis," I called, rushing to catch her as she collapsed into my arms. She whispered low to my ear, her words echoed in my mind—"Felix will help lead it to its fate."
Before I could fully comprehend her prophecy, a group of servants arrived to carry her away. The attention in the room shifted, and my gaze flicked to the door as another figure entered—Duke Fyre of the House of Phoenix, his eyes as cold as my mother's.
"Your Majesty, you summoned me?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
Father nodded curtly, waving his hand in dismissal. "Send Ignis to her chambers. Duke, report."
Duke Fyre gestured to his knight, who carried something in his hands—something strange. A black glass like eggshell, lingering magic that stirred the room coming from the broken shell. The knights placed it on the table before Father, and we all watched, entranced.
"This was found in the nest of the mysterious dragon deep in the snow, the knights discovered it in the northern mountains," Duke Fyre explained. "It has been there for years, yet the magic still lingers. We don't understand it, Your Majesty."
"What magic is this?" Firel demanded, his voice laced with suspicion.
Duke Fyre glanced at my mother, as though seeking her approval before answering. "It might carry ancient magic. Unknowns to us, the traces are unmistakable, but it is difficult to ascertain from the shell alone."
Father's gaze hardened as he approached the shell, his golden scale shifting in the air as gold dust spiraled toward it, forming into a small golden scale. "Tell me what you sense, Helios."
The small dragon, Helios, danced around the shell, its movements erratic. After several tense moments, it returned to Father's waist, settling into the shape of a golden blade. The king's brow furrowed deeply.
"Dismissed," Father said curtly. "I will speak with Firel and the Duke. Felix, you may leave."
"Yes, Your Majesty," we all replied, our voices unified in obedience.
I turned to leave, eager to return to the training grounds, but as I passed through the hall, something caught my eye. A light flickered from one of the classrooms. Why was Vesper still here so late at night?
Drawing closer, I saw him sitting beside someone—a figure with dark hair, leaning in close. It was Ivy. They were laughing together, and I froze, watching them, feeling an inexplicable knot tighten in my chest.
"Hey, tomato head," came a voice from behind me. I whipped around, startled, only to find Henry grinning at me.
"Henry!" I snapped, lowering my hand from where it had instinctively reached for my sword.
"Hold your horses," Henry teased. " You're always so serious."
I turned back to see Ivy rising, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Ivy, your boyfriend's here," Hendry called out, and I watched as her face turned a deeper shade of red before she hurried off.
I felt a strange flutter in my chest, an uncomfortable tightness that had nothing to do with Henry's teasing. I glanced at Vesper, who seemed equally puzzled by Ivy's sudden departure.
I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts. This was getting ridiculous. I had to catch up to her.
"Ivy!" I called, hurrying after her.
But before I could catch up, she turned the corner. I was left standing there, confused and frustrated. I couldn't stop thinking about her—about how she had smiled at me, how my heart had skipped a beat. But she wasn't mine. Not yet.
"There you are," I said, eyes catching the beautiful girl before me. Her face was flushed, a clear sign she'd been upset, and her sulking only made her more captivating.
"W-where have you been?" she asked, her voice tinged with irritation.
"Well, you know, this and that," I responded, offering a vague answer, unsure of how to explain.
"I was worried about your arm, and then you just disappeared. That's all," she said, her words softening as she tried to keep her frustration in check.
"You're worried about me?" I asked, a surge of excitement rushing through me, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Of course, you're my friend after all," she replied, the casual nature of her words catching me off guard. A friend, she said. Just a friend?
"Yeah, a friend," I repeated, the disappointment I felt settling like a weight in my chest.
"What?" she asked, frowning slightly, confused by my tone.
"Nothing, Ivy," I muttered, looking away, suddenly embarrassed by my own reaction.
But despite the sting of her words, I couldn't stop myself from teasing her. I took her hand and kissed it gently, offering the gesture as an apology.
"This is for making you worry. My arm's fine. Strong as ever," I said with a grin, flexing my muscle playfully.
"Yeah, right! I'm heading back to Vesper. I'll make sure he learns to read by tonight," she explained, her smile a mixture of amusement and determination.
"Sure, I'll see you tomorrow. If it's okay with you, I'd like to spar," I said, my voice dripping with playful confidence.
"It's an honor. I'll gladly accept the challenge, your majesty," she replied, and I knew by now she was aware of who I was—thanks to General Hawker's slip-up in front of her. As Ivy walked away, I couldn't help but watch her for a moment longer. She glanced back, and I seized the opportunity, winking and waving goodbye. Her smile in return made my heart flutter.
I made my way to the training ground and found my cousin, Abel, practicing alone. As I drew closer, I noticed the sharpness in his movements—something seemed off.
"You seem different," I remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Your highness!" he exclaimed, clearly startled.
"It's just the two of us, Abel. Drop the formalities," I insisted, a hint of amusement in my voice.
"No, your highness. Would you like to be my opponent, like old times?" he asked, his tone challenging.
"Don't go crying to your mother afterward," I teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
"Let's see about that!" he retorted, his eyes flashing with determination.
We both took our stances—Abel with his spear and me with my sword. The weapon didn't suit him perfectly, but I understood the advantage of its versatility.
He lunged first, eager to start the fight, as always. I easily deflected his spear and twisted around, pointing my blade at his face. In response, he pushed me back, trying to kick my leg—a move I anticipated. I stopped his leg with ease and kicked him to the ground, pressing my blade against his back. But I knew my abilities had a cooldown. Thirty seconds before I could strike again. Abel knew this weakness of mine too well, and he wasted no time exploiting it. He aimed his spear at my leg, but I managed to evade the strike by leaping aside.
Abel rolled quickly, hurling the spear where I had just stood, but he missed by a mile.
Then, I saw Vesper. Out of nowhere, he appeared, catching the spear effortlessly with his bare hands. His strength stunned me, and I couldn't help but wonder how this boy—this quiet, seemingly ordinary boy—was so different from everyone else.
"You!" Abel roared, his voice cracking with fury.
The sudden tension in the air was palpable and I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was going to be far more than I had anticipated.