The silhouette slowly opened the door. The faint creak of the latch sounded unnaturally loud in the pitch-black darkness. It slipped inside.
It approached Noa's bedroom.
Noa slept peacefully, unaware of anything.
The silhouette raised its dagger. The steel drank in the cold light. It paused for a moment — then struck with all its force.
At that instant, the silver amulet around Noa's neck began to glow with blue light. Just as the dagger was about to touch his throat, the light exploded outward, forming a transparent barrier.
Steel met protection.
Sparks flew.
The assassin recoiled from the impact.
Noa jolted awake.
Within the glow, the silhouette became clear — a figure in black robes, crowned with two dragon-like horns.
Noa sprang up from the bed. His voice trembled.
"Why won't you leave me alone?!"
The assassin gave no answer. It began raining blows against the barrier. With every strike the blue light rippled, and the walls of the room shuddered.
Noa knew the attacks could not reach him.
Yet each assault awakened memories in his mind — memories that had long ago turned into his most terrifying nightmares.
On the day Noa turned one year old,
The hall was packed — elders, nobles, warlords. Everyone had gathered to witness the new prince's potential.
The Dragon Stone shone in twelve colors. The deeper and richer the hue, the greater the talent.
Black and violet — the highest grade. Such light had appeared only among the supreme dragons.
The lowest was pale pink.
Noa placed his hand on the stone with a wide smile.
The hall fell silent.
One second.
Two seconds.
The smile on Noa's face vanished as he stared at the stone.
—Why isn't the stone emitting any light?
Whispers began.
"Is this really our prince?"
"Such a result is impossible."
Noa pressed his hand to the stone again and again. It had to be a mistake. But the result never changed.
Zagn sat motionless on the throne.
He did not intervene.
"Just as I expected," he thought.
Noa looked around. Every gaze was filled with contempt. Everyone was speaking negatively about him. He slowly sank to the floor and clutched his head with both hands.
"Don't look at me… don't talk about me…" he said, his voice weak and broken.
Tears began to well in his eyes.
Sitting on the floor, Noa watched as the dreams he had built shattered like ice and broke like glass.
"Silence, all of you. Whoever hates my brother will face my hatred."
She spoke in a deep, commanding tone.
The hall fell into complete silence.
At the doorway stood a girl.
Long black hair with white tips. Eyes deep and cold.
She stepped forward. Her footsteps dominated the hall.
She approached Noa and gently lowered his hands.
"It's all right."
Noa raised his head and threw himself into his sister's embrace.
Zagn, sitting on the throne, looked at his daughter with pride.
Black, violet, and red — one of the greatest talents in history. It was only natural that no one would dare oppose her.
She carried Noa in her arms and left the hall.
As Noa continued to remember —
Crack!
A fissure appeared in the barrier.
Noa was torn from the memory.
The cracks spread.
With the next strike the barrier shattered completely.
The assassin spoke in a low but clear voice:
"Please die."
It leaped forward to strike.
Noa instinctively recoiled and fell off the bed.
In the next instant half the room exploded. The entire balcony side was obliterated.
Noa looked toward the doorway.
Zagn stood leaning against the frame. Two fingers pointed into the room.
This was his attack.
The assassin rose from the rubble. It glanced once at Zagn, once at Noa. It tried to flee.
Zagn turned his palm toward it.
"Come here."
The assassin's body began to be dragged forward as though an invisible hand had seized it. Its neck slammed into Zagn's palm.
Zagn did not even look at it.
He clenched his fist.
The sound of bones crushing rang out.
He crushed the assassin's skull.
Then he looked at Noa.
"Get out of here."
Noa lowered his head slightly.
Then he turned and walked down the corridor.
Noa went to another room and lay down. His thoughts were tangled.
"How much longer will this continue?" he whispered.
Several guards rushed into the destroyed room. Seeing Zagn, they dropped to their knees and remained silent.
Zagn sat down beside the assassin's corpse, removed the mask from its face. After seeing the assassin's face, he sighed, left the room, and looked at the guards.
"Do not let anyone see the body."
The guards remained on their knees.
"As you command," they all said together.
They stood up, lifted the corpse, and carried it away. When one of the guards looked toward the door where Zagn had been standing, he saw that Zagn had already left.
One of the guards whispered:
"Was this a palace servant, or am I mistaken?"
The second guard looked at the assassin's face.
"This is Taruhiya. She has been a servant here for the last eighteen years."
They carried the corpse out of the room.
The sun rose, painting the palace in golden hues.
Its rays slipped through the window and gently brushed across Noa's face, waking him from sleep.
He raised his hand to shield himself from the light and muttered in a tired, slightly irritated voice:
"Morning already…?"
He sat up. The same stillness filled the room — sometimes peaceful, sometimes unbearably dull.
Rising from the bed, he walked toward the wardrobe and changed his clothes.
A knock sounded at the door.
Noa turned toward it, his face completely expressionless.
The door opened, and a red-haired maid stepped inside, bowing her head respectfully.
"Good morning, my prince."
Noa gave a faint smile.
"Good morning to you too."
The maid continued in a calm tone:
"After breakfast, you are to attend the throne hall. His Majesty requests your presence."
Noa unconsciously took a step back.
"Do you know why?"
The maid hesitated slightly.
"I don't know, my prince."
"…Very well. You may go."
The maid bowed once more.
"Yes, my prince."
She curtsied and left. Noa remained standing until the door closed behind her, then turned back to the window.
"Did I make a mistake?" he thought.
He turned away from the window and stepped outside.
As he headed toward breakfast, the same question circled endlessly in his mind — for what reason are they summoning me?
Then he stopped.
"No… I'll go before breakfast," he decided.
He changed direction and walked toward the throne hall.
The massive golden doors, which had several cracks in the huge walls, were opened wide by the guards who bowed deeply.
Zagn, Emperor of the Black Dragons, sat upon the towering throne.
Noa swallowed hard and approached.
Zagn's cold eyes remained fixed on him.
When Noa reached the foot of the stairs, he bowed deeply.
Noa, anxiety ringing in his voice:
"You called for me, Father?"
Zagn spoke in an icy tone:
"Do you know why?"
Noa, sweating:
"I couldn't guess."
Zagn clenched his fists; his voice thundered like a storm.
"Noa, you are not worthy of the Supreme Dragon blood."
The words struck like lightning.
Noa's legs began to tremble, but he forced himself to stand firm.
Zagn continued:
"Tomorrow, you will prove yourself — or you will lose your title as prince."
Cold sweat rolled down Noa's neck.
"As you command… Father."
Zagn's voice rang out sharply:
"You may leave."
Noa lifted his head slightly, turned, and began walking away.
I've disappointed him again…
Everyone else can already transform… but me? I'm still stuck between forms. It's only natural that they would be disappointed in a failure of a son like me.
Doubt clawed at his chest.
Even though Zagn knew Noa was untalented, he continued to demand strength from him. Everyone else considered it pointless, yet Zagn never tired of it.
Lost in these thoughts, he wandered through the palace corridors for a while before stepping into the royal gardens — calm and breathtaking, where white flowers swayed gently in the cold mountain breeze. The sky was clear, yet the air carried the solemn, unique stillness that belonged only to dragons.
But Noa's heart was far from calm.
Why must childhood, joy, laughter — all of it — be traded for endless training and pain?
Still, deep inside, he felt something shifting.
At the end of the path stood an ancient tree.
Beneath its shadow waited his mother — Arya, Queen of the Frost Dragons.
Her silvery hair shimmered like falling snow, and her glacier-blue eyes…
As Noa approached, her expression softened.
In a soft, soothing voice:
"You returned early, my son."
He ran to her and threw himself into her arms — for a moment becoming just a little boy again, safe in her embrace.
"Yes, Mother…" he whispered.
Arya gently stroked his hair.
"What did your father say?"
Noa clutched her robe tightly, his fists trembling.
"He scolded me. Said I was too slow… too weak. But Mother, is it really necessary? Father keeps demanding so much from me."
Her eyes trembled softly. She cupped his face in both hands, her touch cool yet filled with tenderness.
"Listen carefully, my son. In ancient times, dragons waged wars that painted the skies in blood. They fought one another, other races, and all manner of legions; they lost families, kingdoms, hopes. Through that pain, they learned one truth: survive, or perish.
Strength, speed — these were sacred."
Noa's chest tightened. Each word wrapped around his heart like chains forged from history itself.
But Arya's voice grew even gentler:
"Yet you are not weak, Noa. True strength does not lie in haste — it lives in resolve. Some dragons are born blazing like fire, others grow quietly, like a river carving stone over centuries. You are the latter. Your time will come. And when it does…" — her voice trembled with unshakable faith — "…everyone will acknowledge you."
Noa's breathing shook. A spark ignited within him.
He clenched his fists, looked straight into his mother's eyes, and whispered with real conviction for the first time:
"I will prove myself, Mother. I will train harder than anyone. I will make both you and Father proud."
His words were rough and unpolished, but a true fire burned behind them. Arya smiled, though sorrow glimmered in her gaze. She pulled him into a tight embrace and whispered:
"Remember, Noa… every dragon forges his own path. Yours has only just begun. And it will not be like any other dragon's path."
Suddenly the wind shifted.
A strange, cold ripple passed through the air.
Noa lifted his head and looked up at the sky.
"Mother… what was that…?"
Arya's smile faded, replaced by a grave expression.
"Just an ordinary wind… yet within even this wind lie many meanings."
Noa's heart pounded like a war drum.
He didn't understand yet — but his mother's words seared themselves into his soul like molten fire.
After lunch, Noa resolved to go to the training hall.
The moment he stepped inside, heat struck his face — the sharp scent of sweat, the roar of flames, the echoing cracks of impacts against stone walls.
Dragons trained in their humanoid forms; some were partially transformed, scales glinting like polished metal as they clashed.
Noa paused for a moment — small and uncertain.
One dragon noticed his entrance.
A figure covered in thick, iron-like scales — still in dragon form — was suddenly enveloped in crimson mist. When the mist cleared, he stood in human shape. Seeing Noa, he blinked in surprise.
"Prince Noa… what brings you here?"
Noa looked straight at the warrior.
"I want to train."
Silence fell. Darion studied him — not as a prince, but as a dragon.
Darion, with a hint of doubt:
"Very well. Then let us begin. Body and spirit must become one first. Are you prepared to endure pain, Your Highness?"
Noa clenched his fists.
"I am ready."
Respect flickered in Darion's eyes.
"Then come. Let us see… what kind of fire truly burns inside you."
At that same moment
In the throne hall
Golden pillars rose high overhead while the council of elders whispered like serpents.
The first elder spoke in a dissatisfied tone:
"Prince Noa still hasn't transformed."
The second elder joined in:
"Even common-born dragons surpass him. And yet he still holds the title of prince."
The third elder snorted derisively:
"Because of him, we have bowed our heads many times."
Emperor Zagn sat motionless upon the throne. His gaze was cold steel.
When he finally spoke, silence swallowed the entire hall.
"He will prove himself. Or he will lose everything."
Yet inside Zagn's heart, a storm raged.
They doubt him — the clans, the elders, the people. They have tried to assassinate Noa many times, and they will pay the price for it.