The wind howled softly above the broken plains, carrying the scent of ash and rain. Kael's crimson cape fluttered behind him as he rode Ignathar's burning aura through the clouds, Caelum gliding beside him like a comet of gold and wrath.
For miles, neither spoke.
The two princes, bound by blood and burdened by divine flames, soared in silence. The night was heavy with the heat of their dragons and the unspoken weight between them.
Kael leaned forward on Ignathar's back, eyes half-lidded, lost in thought. The rhythm of the dragon's wings — deep, volcanic, ancient — reminded him of another day, another time.
The memory came unbidden.
He had been ten then — small, scrawny, and much too curious for the comfort of Vulmir's guards.
The Seven Empires Summit of Peace had gathered in the Holy Capital of Artheria — a place where no war was allowed to touch, even in thought. The sky had been clear that day, its sunlight falling through the crystalline domes that made the city glow like a thousand gems.
Kael had escaped his father's council hall the first chance he got.
The grown-ups were boring — all talk about taxes, trade, and treaties. Words like "stability," "truce," and "diplomatic restraint" meant nothing to a boy who'd rather set fire to a training dummy.
So he wandered.
He found himself in the outer gardens of the Celestial Fountain — an enormous sculpture shaped like a dragon curling through rippling water. The Water Dragon, Nereveth, carved entirely of blue marble, wings unfurled as though to embrace the sky.
Kael stared up at it, impressed despite himself.
"That's a big lizard," he muttered.
A small voice replied from behind the fountain. "She's not a lizard."
Kael blinked and turned.
There, half-hidden behind the marble basin, sat a boy around his age — pale blue hair falling over his eyes, a book open on his knees. His clothes were fine but simple, embroidered with silver wave patterns.
Kael grinned. "Didn't mean to offend your pet statue."
The boy didn't smile. In fact, he seemed ready to bolt. "You shouldn't talk to me."
Kael tilted his head. "Why not?"
"My father said," the boy murmured, "never speak to strangers. Especially people from Vulmir."
Kael blinked. Then, suddenly, he laughed — loud, unrestrained, echoing through the fountain's courtyard.
The other boy flinched.
Kael wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning. "Your father's got a point. We're scary. We breathe fire, eat rocks, and dance in lava for fun."
The boy's eyes widened. "Really?"
"No," Kael said, snickering. "But I liked how you believed it for a second."
He stepped closer, extending his hand. "Name's Kael. Prince of Vulmir. Half of Ignathar."
The boy hesitated before slowly reaching out. "Thalor. Prince of Aqualis."
"Half of Nereveth, I suppose?" Kael guessed.
Thalor nodded. "You don't seem like someone from Vulmir."
Kael raised a brow. "You mean terrifying, loud, and made of fire?"
"I mean angry," Thalor said quietly. "Everyone says Vulmir people are always angry."
Kael thought about that. "Maybe we are. But not all the time." He leaned against the fountain, glancing at the water. "Sometimes we just… get tired of people telling us what we are."
Thalor looked down at the rippling surface. "I get that."
Kael grinned again. "Then we're the same. Lava and water, huh? You think we'd cancel each other out."
"Maybe," Thalor said, smiling faintly. "Or maybe we'd make steam."
Kael's eyes sparkled. "Steam sounds fun."
And that was how it began — two children of rival empires, laughing beside a sacred fountain, unaware that their friendship would one day defy the gods themselves.
The memory faded as Kael opened his eyes to the present. The night wind whipped across his face, carrying the scent of scorched air and burning clouds.
Ignathar's deep voice rumbled in his mind.
"You think of the water child again."
Kael smirked faintly. "Caught me."
"He flies west. Away from you. Away from the chosen."
Kael leaned back, hands behind his head. "Good. He's smarter than most of us."
Beside him, Caelum's voice cut through the rushing wind. "You're smiling."
Kael glanced sideways. "And you're scowling. Everything's normal."
Caelum ignored the jab. "We're closing in on the eastern ridge. I can feel the frost residue. The Ice Fox can't hide from me."
Kael pretended to be interested in the horizon. "Right, right. The mighty chosen one hunting down a single man and an unconscious princess. Very heroic."
Caelum shot him a glare. "You question my orders?"
Kael smirked. "All the time."
Caelum's tone sharpened. "That man defied divine law. He disrupted the holy treaty of empires. He endangered balance itself."
"And?" Kael said. "Treaties, balance, divine law… they all sound like excuses for boring people to stay in power."
Caelum's golden aura flared briefly. "Watch your tongue, Kael. The gods listen."
"Let them," Kael said softly. "I've never liked their sense of humor anyway."
They flew in silence for a while longer, the night broken only by the beating of Ignathar's wings.
Finally, Caelum spoke again. "You lied to me, didn't you?"
Kael's heart skipped — only for a moment — then he grinned. "What makes you think that?"
Caelum's golden eyes burned. "You smirk when you lie."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
Kael shrugged, still smiling. "Then maybe I do it to keep you guessing."
Caelum stared at him for a long, tense moment. The air between them seemed to crackle — fire and pride colliding like storm fronts.
Then, abruptly, Caelum looked away. "It doesn't matter. I'll find them soon enough."
Kael exhaled softly. "Of course you will. You always do."
Far to the west, over the shimmering wetlands, Thalor rode upon a current of water and wind, Nereveth gliding silently beneath the clouds.
The dragon's voice was a whisper of waves.
"You hide from your brother of fire."
Thalor smiled faintly. "Not hide. Just taking the long road."
"The frost-born one draws the gaze of the Six," Nereveth murmured. "Even the weakest element trembles with awakening."
Thalor's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then the balance is breaking."
"Or reforming," said the dragon. "The world has changed before."
Thalor looked out over the horizon, where the faint trail of ice shimmered in the moonlight — the path left behind by the boy they called the Ice Fox.
"Who are you really, I wonder," he whispered. "A fraud… or the first piece of something greater?"
The wind carried his words into the distance.
And though neither Kael, Caelum, nor Thalor could see it yet — far beyond the forests, beneath the silver moon — a faint blue glow flickered between the trees, where Ryn still trudged through mud and frost, a sleeping princess in his arms and a thousand curses in his head.