The sun was casting its final rays beyond the horizon.
Crimson streaks touched the clouds in the sky, intensifying the enchantment of the heavens.
The wind whistled between the walls, carrying the icy breath of the approaching night.
Noa tilted his head back slightly and stared at the red-tinged clouds.
Rion stopped a few steps behind him. Doubt and vigilance mingled in his eyes.
"The sun is setting," he said in a low but steady voice. "Darkness is approaching. It is the most favorable time to enter the palace."
Noa stirred from his thoughts and turned to Rion.
"The palace…" he whispered, his voice calm. "Yes. That cursed place."
His hands clenched into fists.
"I wish everything I've heard was a lie, Rion. Perhaps this time… someone will be waiting for me."
Rion stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sometimes the truth hides in the most painful places," he said softly. "If you do not confront it, it will never let you go."
Noa gave a melancholic smile.
"In my childhood, I remember the palace like this — white walls, silver columns, music dancing among the winds…"
"But now it all feels like nothing but darkness."
"Every empire hides its own darkness," he whispered. "The difference is that some control it… while others are devoured by it."
A moment of silence reigned. The wind brushed through Noa's hair.
"Then I will rewrite it," he said with determination. "This time, the past will not consume me."
Rion nodded slowly.
They continued in silence. The sun vanished. The palace towers now rose high beneath the veil of night.
Ruya's colorless light hung above, revealing the silhouette of the capital through a delicate mist.
In the distance, the palace glimmered faintly — like a solitary lamp in the abyss.
Noa took a deep breath. His feet ached from exhaustion.
"Why does the palace feel so far away?" he muttered. "We've been walking for four, maybe five hours — and it still seems distant."
Rion straightened his shoulders and looked ahead.
"We teleported to the edge of the city," he said calmly. "This is the old district."
Rion continued:
"We had to emerge outside the palace."
Noa bit his lip.
"Yes, I know. They used to speak even worse about me here than in the palace. But even when I lived in the palace, I never realized just how vast the capital was…"
Rion gave a brief nod.
"Everyone sees the world from their own window."
Their footsteps echoed softly on the damp road.
Suddenly Rion stopped. Noa frowned — Rion's shoulders had begun to tremble.
A low humming filled the air.
Two crimson wings slowly unfurled from between his shoulders.
As they spread toward the sky, sparks of light flashed in the darkness.
Noa stepped back in astonishment.
"Rion… those wings…"
Rion smiled, though his eyes remained serious.
"We're wasting time on foot. Flying at night is safer — no one knows us right now."
Noa chuckled softly.
"We could have done this earlier."
Rion laughed under his breath.
"During the day the sky is full of dragons. They know every shadow."
"Now the night is our only mask."
He extended his hand.
"Hold on tight."
Noa hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. His palm was warm.
"Good…" he whispered.
Rion spread his wings wide.
The air hummed as they lifted off the ground.
Their feet touched the earth one last time — then they soared into the sky.
Below, the old district dissolved into darkness. Ahead lay the golden towers, palaces radiating blue light, and the indistinct silhouettes of flying dragons — all drawing closer.
The night embraced them, yet the palace's glow pierced Noa's heart like a dagger.
Rion tilted his wings and descended lower. The wind whipped their faces, sweeping their hair back in waves.
Below, the city lights flickered on and off; above stretched the endless, silent sky.
Now the palace was clearly visible: protective runes circled along its walls.
Vigilant dragons patrolled nearby; layers of shimmering shields were woven into the air.
Approaching this place uninvited was almost impossible.
Rion gazed at the palace and altered their flight path.
"The aerial defenses are strong," he said gravely. "Passing from above is tantamount to death. But…"
He leaned downward, his wings slicing through the air.
"…if we descend at a sixty-degree angle, twist like a serpent, then glide fifty meters lower at a fifty-degree angle — they won't detect us."
"This path was built by the Emperor's own spies. I call it the 'Fissure Path.'"
He smirked.
"They constructed defenses to protect the palace — yet they also created a flaw that could destroy it."
"The greatest irony of all."
Noa remained silent, carefully watching every movement.
"Rion," he said slowly, his voice heavy. "You are incredibly intelligent. We are almost the same age, yet between us… there is such a vast chasm."
Rion offered a faint smile without losing focus.
"High-born dragons are born with advantages, Noa. That is not surprising."
Noa looked down.
Beneath them, the city lights sparkled like tiny stars.
In those lights he saw his own reflection — always lagging behind, always fading.
"Yes," he whispered. "Not surprising. But what astonishes me… is that I possess no potential at all."
The words hung in the air like a heavy stone. The wind could not carry them away.
Rion looked at him — a long, silent, thoughtful gaze.
A brief flash of pain appeared in his eyes… then determination took its place.
He looked forward once more.
His wings cut through the night as they descended faster and lower along the Fissure Path — merging with the city's shadows, invisible to the watchers above.
Noa held tightly to Rion's waist as the wind grew stronger.
Each beat of the wings carried them between freedom and danger —
every second bringing them closer to their fate.
The palace was now within reach.
Yet neither of them knew what awaited them there.
Palace Tower
At the Top of the Tower
Behind black curtains, a dim, flickering light danced.
Before the window stood a figure in human form — a dragon wearing a long black robe.
Half of his face remained in shadow.
His fingers trailed across the glass, his eyes fixed on two indistinct silhouettes flying toward the palace.
Slowly, an icy smile spread across his lips.
"Finally… you've returned, brother."
His voice was filled with cold delight — mockery and blade-sharp hatred intertwined.
In the reflection of the windowpane, two armored figures appeared behind him — clad in black steel and long cloaks, the Emperor's dragon emblem gleaming on their shoulders.
They moved silently, their faces blank, their presence suffocating.
"You saw them, didn't you?" the dark figure asked slowly, each word heavy as iron.
The first guard bowed.
"Yes, my lord."
Silence stretched — then the dragon slowly turned, a smile on his lips.
"So your eyes are sharp."
The guard gave a nervous smile.
"Thank you, my lo—"
He could not finish.
A sharp, cutting sound — shk!
His eyes widened in shock.
He saw his own severed head held in the hand of the figure standing beside the window.
Blood splattered against the wall; his body lurched forward and collapsed lifelessly.
The second guard froze, horror catching in his throat.
"W-when… he was standing right next to me—"
He did not even manage to raise his hands.
"My lord… please, I—"
The dark dragon stepped forward. His boots rang cold and decisive.
He said slowly:
"Since when did you think your eyes were sufficient to watch my brother without permission…?"
He still held the severed head by the hair, blood dripping onto the floor.
His icy eyes fixed on the trembling guard.
"I hope you filthy dogs did not forget to report immediately to the First Captain."
He hurled the head against the wall — thud! — the sound shattering the silence like thunder.
The dragon turned back to the window and gazed down at the city.
The imperial sky had already lost the sun's final rays.
He whispered — his words like ice upon steel:
"This place is no longer your home, and outsiders cannot live here."