In the timeless stillness of the Training Realm, Kaelya stepped onto the sacred ground—each footfall coaxing life from the earth. Flowers unfurled in her wake, delicate petals blooming from barren soil, as if the realm itself recognized her presence and dared to breathe again.
"Morven is asleep... and so is Orion," she murmured softly, her eyes scanning the tranquil scene.
Morven stood upright, unconscious yet upright, his weight leaning against the staff that had become his silent sentinel. Nearby, Orion lay collapsed across the small, sleeping body of a frost dragon—his breathing shallow, yet peaceful.
Kaelya's gaze softened. "This little one... yes, I named him Felix once, when he looked so miserably bored," she whispered with a faint smile, kneeling beside them.
Her fingers gently curled around Orion's hand.
"Well," she said, her voice low but resolute, "it's time to end this training. War is upon us... and we can't afford to lose another moment."
As if her words awakened something buried deep within, a cold glow stirred in Orion's chest—radiant and primal. The light pulsed once… then again.
Then his transformation began.
Scales bloomed across his skin like frost spreading over glass. His limbs elongated, reshaping with unsettling grace. Fingers fused and curved into glistening claws, sharp and lethal. His back arched, splitting open as majestic wings—crystalline and razor-edged—unfurled from within.
Kaelya didn't flinch. She simply watched, her expression unreadable as the familiar form of a Frost Dragon slowly took shape.
Not Felix. Not quite.
But something akin to him.
Something ancient. Something reborn.
As Orion's form fully shifted into that of a Frost Dragon, the change didn't last. In a shimmer of blue light, his body contracted and reverted—limbs shortening, wings folding inward, scales dissolving into skin. Within moments, the dragon was gone, and the young man returned.
His eyes fluttered open—one a serene frost blue, the other an aquatic hue, cool and deep as a moonlit lake.
His breath was shallow. Disoriented.
His silver hair, now tousled and wild, clung to his forehead as he clutched it with one hand.
"Ow… why does my head feel like it hosted a lightning storm?" he groaned, wincing.
Morven stirred as well. His golden eyes blinked slowly open.
"Kaelya... has something happened?"
Before Kaelya could speak, Orion froze. A tear slid down his cheek. Then another. And another.
"Huh?" he whispered, confused. "Why… why am I crying?"
His voice trembled—but not with sadness.
Frieda's voice echoed softly through his lips, equally puzzled.
"Me too… I don't feel sad. But… it won't stop."
Both voices—Orion and Frieda, merged in one body—spoke in quiet disbelief.
"Why are we crying?"
Kaelya knelt beside him again, her tone gentler than before.
"There can be more than one reason for that," she explained. "Perhaps the soul of your child… has matured just enough to stir. To nudge its way forward. Or—" she paused, eyes thoughtful, "—perhaps it's the emotional weight of countless lifetimes, endless fragments of memory bleeding through your merged soul. Grief, love, awe... all buried for too long. And now, your body simply doesn't know how else to release it."
She gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
"In any case... crying isn't weakness. Not right now. You can cry as much as you need."
Kaelya stood tall again, turning toward Morven with her usual resolve.
"Morven, the war has begun. You must maintain the barrier at all times now—just as Mother Rosen instructed. You can't risk diverting your focus to nurturing others anymore."
Morven's expression sobered. He nodded.
"I understand. I'll return to my duties immediately."
With a tap of his staff against the ground, a soft hum rippled through the air, opening a rift between dimensions—a window of cold light and distorted space.
Orion, his face streaked with tears he couldn't explain, gasped.
"Wait—what about my training?"
But Morven offered no reply.
He stepped through the rift and was gone.
Kaelya knelt once more and helped Orion to his feet. His knees trembled slightly, the remnants of transformation and emotion still rippling through his form.
"You needn't worry about your training anymore," she said softly. "As I told you… the war has already begun. We no longer have the luxury of time."
She exhaled, a weight behind her words that even the air around them seemed to acknowledge.
"I'll deliver the task in Mother's stead." Her tone sharpened, firm and ceremonial now. "You are to send the Message of the Coming War. First, to the Hydro Sovereign. Then, the Dendro. And lastly… the Pyro Sovereign. Each one dwells within the elemental nations of Teyvat."
Orion wiped the tears from his eyes, though his mismatched gaze still shimmered with the quiet storm of emotion.
"But… I'm still too weak," he murmured. "Or… at least, I thought I was…"
His voice wavered—and then, Frieda nodded with his face, her presence surging forward like sunlight through fog.
"We thought we were," she corrected gently. "But it seems we're not as helpless as we feared."
Kaelya placed a hand on Orion's head, her fingers threading through his silver hair as she spoke with a hint of pride.
"No, you're not. I've already awakened the essence of VlastMoroz inside you," she said. "If you ever find yourself in true danger, every Emblem will feel it. You only need to stay alive long enough for one of us to reach you."
She offered a soft smile. It was rare—almost like the bloom of a frostflower in moonlight.
Then her voice softened again.
"Before you depart… would you like to meet your parents?"
There was a brief silence—just long enough for Orion to begin forming an answer.
But Frieda beat him to it.
Using his mouth, his breath, and his will, she answered for them both.
"I would like to see my father-in-law and mother-in-law before we go," she declared with innocent conviction.
Orion blinked in surprise, a faint protest forming at the edge of his expression—but it was already too late.
The decision had been made.
A shimmering rift tore open within the heart of the Aethercastle, its light cascading like frozen starlight across the polished marble floors. Through it emerged the majestic form of the young Frost Dragon, Felix—silent, graceful, and proud.
Perched on his back, Orion and Kaelya rode with quiet dignity—until the guards caught sight of them.
At once, every soldier in the vicinity dropped to one knee, fists over their hearts in reverent salute.
"Welcome home, Crown Prince Orion of House VlastMoroz." Their voices rang in perfect unison, echoing through the vaulted corridors like a sacred hymn.
Orion's eyes widened—and immediately, his hands flew to his chest in alarm.
He was still naked.
The icy winds of the Training Realm had spared him modesty, but here, in the grandeur of the Aethercastle, it was far less forgiving.
Kaelya arched a brow but said nothing as Orion flushed crimson, his silver hair falling in disheveled strands over his face as he tried—poorly—to cover himself.
"Bring proper garments for the prince!" one of the senior guards barked. The nearby maids bowed swiftly and rushed forward with folded attire—robes of silver and glacier-blue, embroidered with the sigils of Cryo royalty.
As Orion slid down from Felix's back—still thoroughly exposed—the maids averted their eyes, though the pink rising in their cheeks betrayed their efforts.
They helped him dress in silence, wrapping layers of noble cloth over his frame. The frost-themed sigil glowed faintly as the final clasp clicked into place.
Fully dressed at last, Orion exhaled, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"Where are my parents?" he asked with a weary sigh.
The senior guard stepped forward, bowing.
"They are presently in audience with Mother Seraphyx... within the inner chambers."
A shadow flickered across Orion's face—nostalgic, and slightly annoyed.
"Ever since the coronation last year," he muttered, "Mother and Father have neglected half their duties... just to be coddled by Mother Seraphyx."
Kaelya gave him a knowing look, but said nothing.
Then, something shifted.
Orion straightened. His posture sharpened, voice calm and measured—but firmer, older. His mismatched eyes shimmered with a deeper weight.
"Before I depart... I shall speak with them. Properly. This cannot be allowed to continue."
It wasn't just Orion speaking anymore.
It was the reflection of a king—a ghost of what he had once become in the Dream Realm, when his kingdom crumbled, and he learned what it meant to lead with more than heart.