The tension in the castle was palpable as Meredith strode through the corridors, her boots echoing against the stone floor. The air seemed heavier today, weighed down by the reports pouring in from Pyria's borders.
Increased dragon attacks had left villages in ruin, and whispers of marked individuals disappearing spread like wildfire among the staff. Servants avoided eye contact, their voices hushed, as though speaking too loudly might summon disaster.
In the main hall, Arthur stood at the head of a large table, a chalkboard filled with diagrams and notes behind him. Nobles, guards, and scholars sat attentively as Arthur cleared his throat.
"Let us begin with a summary of the angels," Arthur announced, his voice steady despite the weight of his topic. "With Princess Meredith's assistance, we've been able to verify some details about angelic behavior."
Meredith, seated near the corner of the room, offered a faint nod, though her mind was elsewhere. She was restless, the weight of Pyria's mounting troubles gnawing at her resolve. Still, she forced herself to pay attention as Arthur continued.
"As we know, angels are neither friend nor foe to mortals," Arthur began, his voice carrying a scholarly cadence. "They exist above us, detached from our struggles. Their aid often comes with motives that we don't quite understand."
Arthur pressed on. "Their actions, when they do intervene, seem to serve their Lord. And as Your Highness herself noted"—he gestured toward her—"they view mortals with a certain... detachment."
All eyes turned briefly to Meredith. She stiffened in her seat, feeling the room's attention like a physical weight. A flicker of pride rose in her chest—she had provided valuable insights about angels, after all—but it was quickly overshadowed by an unwelcome urge to over-explain.
"Yes, that's right," Meredith said, clearing her throat, her voice cutting through the room with more force than intended. "Angels—well, they're very strikingly sexy."
A ripple of confusion passed through the audience. Arthur hesitated mid-sentence, one eyebrow arching in surprise.
Meredith relaxed in her chair, her voice taking on a sultry tone as she made gestures with deliberate ease. She spoke, "There's something about angels—something primal. The way he walks, each step filled with purpose, as if the ground itself obeys his will. And his voice..." She let the sentence linger, a faint smile curving her lips. "It's like liquid gold—rich, smooth, and irresistible. When he speaks, it feels like he's gently stroking… the air."
She tilted her head, her gaze far away as if she was remembering something. "And his eyes—dark and intense. One look from him and it's like he already knows your deepest secrets, your biggest fears, everything about you. It's... unsettling, honestly."
The room was utterly silent, the tension palpable. Arthur froze mid-gesture, his chalk poised above the board as if uncertain whether to interrupt her. Fresia buried her face in her hands, while a young scholar in the corner dropped his parchment with a faint thud.
Meredith stayed determined, and her voice got deeper with quiet confidence. She said, "And his hands..." She smirked a little and leaned forward as her voice got softer and more like a secret. "Strong, elegant, and..."
Arthur coughed delicately, reclaiming the room. "Yes, thank you, Your Highness," he said, his tone perfectly neutral. "An... evocative perspective, though perhaps not entirely relevant to the topic at hand."
As Arthur continued delivering his lecture on angels, questions arose and answers were provided. Once this exchange had concluded, Arthur transitioned smoothly to the next subject on his agenda.
"Now," he said, drawing himself up, "let's move to part two: dragons—friends or foes?" Arthur began, clearing his throat as he gestured toward a faded tapestry depicting a battle between humans, dragons, and angels. His tone was academic, but the weight of the discussion hung heavily in the air.
"Here's what we know about them," Arthur said, pacing slightly, his gaze scanning the room as he spoke. "Dragons, at their largest, can reach the size of three grown humans combined, but most are closer to human size—comparable in stature to angels." He paused, tapping the chalkboard where a rough outline of a dragon had been drawn. "Their appearances are a relatively recent phenomenon, emerging only about three centuries ago."
Arthur stopped at the edge of the table, his tone becoming more deliberate. "The first recorded sighting occurred in Sunhaven kingdom, where one was seen during a solar eclipse. Since then, dragons have appeared sporadically, often near sites of major conflict or celestial events. Their nature is enigmatic, but their presence has always been tied to angels."
He gestured toward the group, his voice dropping slightly. "Dragons are never alone for long. Angels are always involved—either to destroy them or to fight alongside them. This connection remains one of the great mysteries of our age. Some theorize that dragons are celestial weapons, unleashed in times of great need, while others believe their purpose lies in balance, a force neither fully good nor evil."
Arthur's gaze swept across the room. "What we do know is that dragons, like angels, are unpredictable. They've been seen leveling cities, yet also defending mortals. Whether they are our greatest ally or a dire threat depends entirely on who controls their power."
Meredith's attention drifted. She'd heard most of this before. She glanced at the door, the itch to leave growing unbearable.
---
By mid-afternoon, Meredith had had enough. Excusing herself from the castle under the pretense of needing air, she slipped into the armory to grab her bow and quiver. She didn't go far before Fresia caught up with her, the handmaiden's face a mixture of concern and determination.
"Your Highness, you're sneaking off again, aren't you?" Fresia asked, falling into step beside her.
Meredith didn't slow her pace. "It's not sneaking if I intend to come back."
Fresia sighed, adjusting her cloak. "And you think you'll help Pyria by wandering into the wilderness with nothing but a bow and your... instincts?"
"Exactly," Meredith said with a faint smirk.
As Meredith and Fresia continued their journey, they stumbled upon a group of villagers that was under siege by a pack of wolves. The wolves, with their sharp fangs and piercing eyes, were relentlessly pursuing the villagers, causing widespread panic and chaos.
Without hesitation, Meredith stepped forward. With her trusty bow in hand, she skillfully deflected the wolves' attacks. Each swing of her arrows was precise and deadly, sending the wolves yelping and retreating.
In unison with Meredith, Fresia lifted her hands, creating a radiant shield that embraced Meredith. Rose petals fell gracefully around her, shimmering and dancing.
The combination of Meredith's unwavering bravery and Fresia's enchanting magic proved to be an unstoppable force. Together, they decimated the wolf pack, sending them fleeing into the shadows. The villagers, no longer in danger, approached Meredith and Fresia with heartfelt smiles.
They expressed their admiration for the duo's bravery and kindness, offering them things and food as a token of their appreciation. Feeling awkward about the display, she steps back, hands raised.
"Alright, alright, none of that," she says. "I'm just a princess with a bow who happened to be in the right place at the wrong time."
When a small child tugs at her sleeve and calls her a "hero," Meredith kneels and whispers conspiratorially, "Let's keep that a secret, okay? I have a reputation to uphold as a useless, shameless princess."
They continued with their aimless journey - the forest stretched before them, its canopy dense with leaves that filtered the sunlight into patches of golden light. Meredith moved swiftly, her steps oddly purposeful, while Fresia lagged slightly behind, rubbing at her chest absentmindedly.
"You've been restless," Meredith noted, her tone lighter to cut through the tension. "What's bothering you?"
Fresia hesitated, her hand stilling over the spot where her Thysia mark lay hidden beneath her blouse. "It's nothing," she said quickly. "Just stress, I think."
Meredith glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Stress doesn't usually make people clutch their chest."
Fresia huffed but didn't reply. She adjusted her cloak again and quickened her pace to keep up. The silence stretched between them until Fresia suddenly stopped, her breath catching.
"Wait," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you feel that?"
Meredith turned, frowning. "Feel what?"
Fresia didn't answer immediately. She took a few cautious steps forward, her eyes scanning the forest ahead. "It's... pulling me. I don't know how else to explain it."
Meredith followed her gaze, her own senses sharpening. They were nearing a cluster of rocks, barely visible through the thick undergrowth. A faint shimmer in the air caught her attention—a spell, expertly woven and meant to conceal something.
"It's a hiding spell," Meredith said, her voice low. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, its tip glowing faintly as she drew back the bowstring. With a whispered incantation, she released the arrow. It struck the shimmer, and the spell shattered like glass, revealing a small, circular clearing.
At the center stood a dragon, its gray scales glinting faintly in the filtered light. It was smaller than most dragons Meredith had seen, its form almost fragile. The creature blinked at them, tilting its head in a manner that felt strangely human.
Fresia took a step back, her hand clutching Meredith's arm. "It's a dragon," she whispered, her voice tight with fear.
Meredith nodded, her bow still in hand but not raised. "I see that."
The dragon regarded them curiously, its eyes bright with intelligence. It took a tentative step toward them, its movements almost hesitant, like a child learning to walk. Meredith lowered her bow slightly, her instincts screaming at her to stay cautious but not to attack.
"Was it just… born?" Fresia asked, her grip tightening.
"Probably," Meredith replied, though her voice was softer now. "But it doesn't seem—"
Before she could finish, the dragon let out a low growl. Its body stiffened, and its eyes darkened as though something inside it had snapped. Without warning, it lunged forward, its movements wild and uncontrolled.
"Run!" Fresia shouted, pushing Meredith back as she summoned a protective shield that encompassed both her and Meredith.
The dragon's berserk frenzy was short-lived. Before Meredith could fire, her vision blurring as they were stricken by blinding lights from the canopy above.
---
When the light faded, three figures stood before them, their white wings radiant against the dark forest. Gabriel was at the forefront, his expression calm but unreadable. Raphael and Cassiel flanked him, their gazes cold and distant.
"Gabriel?" Meredith lowered her bow slightly, confusion mingling with frustration. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer. Instead, Raphael stepped forward, his voice sharp. "This creature is not your concern. Step aside."
"This dragon - it looks like a newborn," Meredith protested, her voice rising. "It hasn't even—"
"It's a threat to you," Cassiel interrupted, his hand outstretched. The dragon froze, its eyes locking onto him. The trembling in its body stopped as if compelled by an unseen force.
Gabriel's gaze softened, but his voice was firm. "Meredith, you need to leave."
Her heart sank. "Leave? What are you angels going to do with the dragon?"
Cassiel's hand glowed faintly, his golden eyes locked onto the dragon, and with a flick of his hand, a binding spell wrapped around the creature, pinning it to the ground. The dragon roared in defiance, but the spell held firm.
Intrigued by the faint whimper that resembled a baby's cry, Meredith's instincts compelled her to cautiously approach and save the seemingly helpless dragon.
"Gabriel," Meredith pleaded, her voice sharp with desperation as she stepped forward. "This doesn't feel right—"
Gabriel didn't meet her gaze. His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, but his actions were swift and decisive. He raised his hand, and a glowing sigil materialized in the air between them. The intricate patterns spun and shifted, releasing an aura that pulsed with quiet power.
"Stop!" Meredith shouted, trying to resist the spell's pull, but it was futile. The sigil's light wrapped around her and Fresia like an invisible net. Her vision blurred, her words caught in her throat as the world around her began to fade.
The last thing she saw was Gabriel's face, his expression a painful mix of resolve and guilt.
Behind him, Raphael and Cassiel remained impassive, their wings casting long shadows over the clearing.
Gabriel's lips moved, the word barely audible as the spell took hold of Meredith and Fresia. "Forget."
---
When Meredith's vision cleared, she was standing in the forest with Fresia. The clearing that had been filled with tension and energy moments ago was now eerily silent, as if nothing had happened at all.
The sun, once high in the sky, now hung lower, its golden light filtering through the trees in softer, slanted beams. Fresia stood nearby, rubbing her temples, her face pale and drawn.
"What... just happened?" Fresia murmured, her voice trembling.
Meredith frowned, gripping her bow as a strange emptiness settled in her chest. "I... I don't know," she replied, her voice faltering. Something was missing, something important, but every time she reached for the memory, it slipped further away, leaving her with nothing but a gnawing sense of loss.
The two women stood in the clearing for a moment longer, the weight of the silence pressing down on them.
Fresia glanced at the sky, her brow furrowing. "It's later than it should be," she said quietly, her voice tinged with unease. "How long were we standing here?"
Meredith didn't answer, her own sense of time muddled by the strange void in her mind. The forest felt heavier now, the air thicker, as if it had absorbed the echoes of something terrible.
She slung her bow over her shoulder and gestured for Fresia to follow. "Let's go back," she said firmly. "There's nothing more for us here."
Far from the forest, in a barren wasteland outside Pyria, Gabriel and the Twins approached Malachel. The sun had dipped closer to the horizon, casting an orange glow over the scorched land.
Scattered around the edges of the devastation were several younger angels. Their faces showed a mix of awe and worry. They had just seen Malachel and the dragon destroyed an entire city like it was just a toy.
The smell of smoke lingered in the air, and flames still smoldered in the distance, their faint light illuminating the charred ruins of what had once been a bustling town.
Gabriel's golden eyes flickered with something unreadable as he surveyed the devastation. The dragon stood beside Malachel, its gray scales streaked with ash and blood. The creature's body trembled from exertion, its breaths shallow and labored, yet it stood upright, its eyes dull but obedient.
Malachel, by contrast, radiated a disturbing satisfaction as he placed a hand on the dragon's head, a mockery of affection in the gesture.
"Well done," he drawled, his voice smooth but laced with venom. "You've been most useful."
The dragon let out a low, broken growl, but it didn't move. Slowly, Malachel traced his fingers along the dragon's bloodstreaked neck, as if studying a piece of art rather than a living being.
"It will never cease to amaze," Malachel said softly, his voice carrying the detached authority of a mentor addressing pupils. His golden eyes remained on the trembling dragon, its ash-streaked scales catching the faint glow of smoldering flames.
"Chaos—wild, untamed, and destructive—can be sculpted into obedience, but only by a hand that is firm, unyielding." His gaze swept briefly over the younger angels standing silently nearby.
"Remember this: strength alone does not command. Control is an art, and only those with resolve can master creatures such as this. Do not pity it," he added coldly, his hand resting lightly on the dragon's neck.
"Pity is weakness. It was made to serve, to destroy when commanded, and to be discarded when its purpose is done. That is the truth you must learn."
Gabriel's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Cassiel's stoic expression remained unchanged, while Raphael's gaze shifted nonchalantly to faraway distance.
Malachel's smirk faded into something colder as he ran his fingers along the dragon's neck. "It's time to deal with this... properly." His golden eyes flicked back to Gabriel and the Twins, narrowing slightly as if to gauge their reactions.
Without another word, Malachel turned, his wings unfurling in a grand display as he led the dragon away. His parting glance toward Gabriel lingered for a moment, sharp and calculating, before he disappeared into the haze of smoke with his battered prize.
Gabriel stood still, his wings twitching ever so slightly as he watched Malachel's retreating figure. The weight of what had just transpired settled heavily on his shoulders, but he remained silent. Behind him, a younger angel finally spoke up, his voice quiet.
"Do you think he'll kill it?"
Gabriel didn't answer. He didn't have to.