"That feeling—that sting, that ache in your chest that makes you question everything. It burns, doesn't it? Like something got carved out of you and left hollow."
Miyu didn't respond, but her shoulders tensed slightly, eyes still fixed on the moonlit horizon.
"That's the spark too," Alister continued, more softly now. "Not just joy. Not just hope. But the pain that shaped you… the moments that made you think you'd break but you refused to."
He tilted his head, looking at her sideways.
"A dragon isn't born from pride alone. We roar not just to show our strength, but because we remember what it meant to be voiceless… to be small. A dragon rises not because the world wills it, nor because destiny demands it—but because it chooses to rise, again and again, no matter what tried to keep it grounded. That relentless madness is at the core of all dragonkind."
He reached out and gently tapped two fingers against her sternum.
