The human realm was fascinating, he thought as he soared through the night sky. In all his five hundred years of life, it was his first time seeing something like this.
He had always been confined to his room, the young duke of the dragon realm, destined to learn the intricacies of rulership and conquest. Only lesser dragons were allowed the privilege of roaming the human world. Dragons of his caliber were considered gods, forbidden to associate with mortals.
The curse cast by humans centuries ago had soured their loyalty, sparking enmity and five hundred years of relentless war. He wasn't a fan of war; he preferred to play, to explore, and to have fun. Perhaps it was his youth, but the idea of being stuck in a room all day learning to conquer realms sounded unbearable.
Landing quietly amid the bustling marketplace of a festival, he took in the sights. It was beautiful. Children danced joyfully, and laughter filled the air. The humans were celebrating something—or someone.
Stopping at a stall, he eyed a stack of sweets skewered on sticks. The old woman running the stall smiled at him warmly.
"Would you like one, Your Majesty?" she asked.
Her words startled him. If his brothers heard of this, they'd have him ambushed, poisoned, or worse. He knew well their vicious ambitions for the throne.
"No, no," he replied quickly. "I'm just a lowly mortal. Can I have one of those sweets?"
The woman's wrinkled face beamed with delight. "For a dragon to seek a gift from me, it must be a blessing from above," she sighed.
His heart skipped a beat. Was this old woman trying to get him stoned to death by humans in the middle of the festival? Her words could summon an army of dragons without her even realizing it!
He laughed nervously. "Grandma, please, say no more," he urged, taking the sweet she handed him and offering her a gold coin.
She raised a hand to refuse, bowing instead. "I have already been blessed. I hope you will restore peace to this realm, as you have already been chosen," she said kindly.
He felt awkward. "Um... okay, thanks. Bye!" he stammered, hurrying away before she could change her mind about accepting the gold. It was, after all, his entire allowance for the month.
He wandered through the festival, marveling at acrobats performing stunts. A group of children nearby chattered excitedly, and he joined them.
"What's happening?" he asked casually.
"The great knight Aiden has returned with the head of the dragon that plagued the east!" one child exclaimed.
"It's said he'll pass through here today. All his men died in the battle, but he returns alone with the dragon's head as proof," another added.
His stomach churned. The sweet in his mouth turned bitter. He had forgotten to conceal his features, and one of the children caught a glimpse of his true form. The child screamed in terror.
Quickly, he vanished, leaping onto a nearby rooftop. Hidden there, he watched as the knight entered the square.
The man was terrifying. His black eyes glinted like obsidian, and a jagged scar ran across his face. Dressed in dark armor, he carried the severed head of a dragon—his brother Tamil's pet, sent to the human realm fifty years ago.
His breath hitched as he stared at the bleeding head. The knight's piercing gaze swept toward him. Panicked, he ducked behind the roof, his heart pounding.
What had he done? He shouldn't have disobeyed his father. He shouldn't have left his room.
Once the knight disappeared through the gates of a nearby fortress, he breathed a sigh of relief.
With a nervous grin, he muttered, "Now I'll enjoy the rest of the night."
He stopped at a lively tavern where intoxicated men laughed boisterously, and women danced with abandon. A bottle caught his eye. He sniffed its contents, intrigued by the sweet aroma.
Taking a sip, his eyes widened. "This is simply delicious!" he exclaimed, taking another.
A woman with long, dark hair stumbled into him. "Would you like to spend the night with me, handsome?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Um... no thanks. I should go," he replied, handing back the bottle.
Her shoulders sagged, but he felt her sorrow. Her story filled his mind—a child on the way, no money to care for it, a father who had denied her, and a family that had cast her out. This was her last hope.
Moved by her plight, he slipped the gold coin into her hand. "Here. Raise your child well. This is worth much if you sell it," he said gently.
She wept with gratitude, her joy palpable. He smiled, leaping onto another rooftop, ready to return home.
As he opened a portal to the moon, a sudden gust of wind knocked back his hood. From afar, he felt a sharp, menacing gaze pierce through him.
His eyes locked with the knight's—Aiden, sharpening his sword in the dim glow of the festival fires.
His heart stopped.