After spending the entire day in the training ground, Noa's walking itself began to cause him difficulty, but without stopping he continued on and reached the garden. While gazing at the shining stars, he unknowingly fell asleep.
Cold air drifted between the trees, making the dewdrops on the leaves tremble.
On the stone platform, Noa stirred. His eyes opened slowly — dark, almost pitch-black pupils.
His silver hair fell freely over his shoulders, and from his head rose two small, half-formed horns. His clothing was simple yet noble — a black tunic, a patterned belt, and violet silk ribbons draped from his shoulders. Beneath this simplicity lingered the unmistakable scent of royalty.
"My son, are you awake?"
The voice reached him like frost carried on a gentle breeze.
Noa lifted his head. Before him stood a woman with snow-white hair cascading down her back, her face serene, her blue eyes calm as a winter sky.
"Mother…" he said quietly, hesitating.
"Do you come here every morning?"
Arya approached, knelt beside him, and smiled tenderly.
"No, Noa. Whenever you are here, I always come to see you."
Warmth spread through his chest, yet beneath that warmth pressed a heavy burden.
He lowered his gaze.
"…Mother, one question has been tormenting me. Am I truly a high dragon?"
Arya brushed his hair with a soft yet steady hand.
"There is no doubt about that, my son."
Noa's jaw tightened.
"They've all changed," he whispered. "But me…"
Arya wrapped him in her arms, her voice firm and warm.
"You are not like the others, Noa. And you should not be ashamed of it."
These words had barely settled in his chest when a sharp voice sliced through the air:
"Prince Noa! His Majesty summons you — immediately!"
A servant came running and bowed deeply.
Noa stood up, every muscle taut.
"Thank you." He nodded, then turned to his mother.
Arya smiled softly.
He left the garden. Along the stone path, other dragons turned to stare — some whispered, others laughed openly.
The elders watched with heavy, judgmental eyes.
Their gazes pierced him like needles, yet Noa maintained a faint smile. Beneath that smile, his chest constricted, his jaw trembled, his teeth pressed together so hard it hurt.
The rumors had already spread far and wide — the prince who could not transform.
By the time the palace doors came into view, his heart pounded like a war drum.
He entered the grand hall and bowed deeply.
"Father… the trial is today."
The Dragon Emperor looked down at him with neither warmth nor hatred — only cold unease.
"That is correct," he said.
His voice grew colder as he continued,
"Are you ready?"
Cold sweat trickled down Noa's back. His throat felt constricted.
The Emperor's voice sharpened further:
"A weak heir will devour the empire."
Noa clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
The Emperor gave a cold sigh.
"Who do you take after?"
Noa hesitated before answering:
"I promise that from now on I will train harder."
The Emperor's expression remained unchanged.
"Now it is already too late for that. You should have done so long ago."
Noa lifted his head. With a faint smile he began:
"Father, you—"
Zagn ignored him and continued.
"I have brought a creature for you," said the Emperor. "It has easily defeated many of your peers. As prince, you must defeat it. If you fail, I will strip you of your title and exile you."
When Zagn's words struck him, Noa closed his eyes for a moment. His heart beat so violently that each pulse hurt his ribs. He swallowed the pain.
His legs trembled. But he locked his knees and pressed his toes hard against the stone floor. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, yet he raised his head.
"As you command… Father."
"This trial will show who you truly are," he added.
The first elder standing beside Zagn smiled faintly.
Noa forced a faint smile on his face — because dragons do not cry.
He turned his back and left the hall.
As the doors closed behind him, Noa's smile vanished instantly. With his gaze fixed on the floor, he walked on.
His thoughts were tangled.
"Will I lose? I've never fought before… If I lose, what will happen..."
From the shadowed corridor, Arya watched her son disappear beyond the palace doors.
Arya closed her eyes and lowered her head. When she clenched her left hand, the door handle she was holding shattered.
Zagn remained staring at the hall doors, lost in thought.
"Sooner or later your gentleness and your patience will run out."
He glanced sideways at the elder.
"First Elder, are you pleased? Is this the moment you've been waiting for from the beginning?"
In another, darker part of the palace…
The creature slammed its head against the bars.
Then suddenly stopped.
It sniffed the air.
Its red eyes slowly widened.
The guard frowned.
"What is it?"
The creature growled low.
It crushed the bones beneath its feet.
It struck the cage with its paw, trying to break it — as if its patience was finally running out.