In the brew of morning winds and the soft, delicate chirps of birds, Arian looked as peaceful as it ever could. The sky wore a gentle blush, the kind only seen after a night full of laughter and fading candlelight.
Maids moved gracefully through the grand halls, sweeping away stardust and half-finished goblets left behind from the royal banquet. Soldiers rotated their posts, voices low as they passed the flame from one shift to the next. And at the farthest borders — near the colossal, coiled form of Mother Rosen — gatherings had already begun. Preparations were in motion. War had not yet knocked, but its shadow had reached the threshold.
And in the heart of this waking realm, Prince Orion stood in his chamber — still draped in a soft robe, hair unbrushed, a trace of sleep lingering in his eyes.
"Last night was amazing," he murmured, stretching slightly as his gaze drifted out the frosted window.
"Yeah…" Frieda's voice echoed gently from within. "It really felt like we were dancing. Together. Like I was... really there."
A small smile touched Orion's lips, bittersweet and warm.
Just then, a dragon's head popped through the open window — crowned in delicate frost-feathers, his snowy-white scales catching the early light like polished crystal.
"Orion," Felix said with a long, dramatic sigh, "it's not good to stay in bed too long. We need to leave for the other Sovereigns soon."
"Yes, Felix," Orion replied, half-laughing as he reached out to ruffle the dragon's head. "But are you sure you want to come with me?"
Felix blinked his pale blue eyes, then leaned into the touch. "It's for the best. I may not be a strong fighter... but I can get you there faster — and safer. And maybe... just maybe... I'll find a way to become stronger too."
Orion rested his forehead briefly against Felix's, voice barely above a whisper. "You're already strong. Stronger than you know."
The breeze carried his words out the window — out toward the waking land of Arian, where peace still lingered like dew on the grass… for now.
The gates of the Aethercastle stood tall and silent, their towering silver arches catching the light of morning like a sword raised to the sun.
The wind was cooler here — not harsh, but laced with something crisp. Final. The kind of wind that brushes against partings and carries words too heavy to speak aloud.
Orion approached slowly, his steps steady, armor light yet ceremonial, trimmed in frost and fire. Felix trotted by his side, wings fluttering once to shake off dew that clung to his feathers like stars refusing to let go.
Waiting at the threshold were King Orion and Queen Minerva, both dressed in royal blue with matching silver sashes — less like rulers today, and more like parents trying to look brave.
The King was the first to break the stillness. He stepped forward and placed a hand on his son's shoulder — firm, proud, trembling just a little.
"I should be the one out there," he said softly, eyes scanning his son's face as if trying to memorize every inch. "But the world chose you."
"And you answered it," Minerva added, her voice quiet but sure. She walked forward and fixed the clasp on Orion's cloak, her hands lingering longer than necessary. "You were always meant to walk paths we couldn't. We knew that, even when you were a boy. Even when we tried to stop it."
Orion looked between them, his throat tightening. "I'll come back," he said. Not a promise. A vow.
"We believe you," the King said — but his voice caught slightly at the end.
Minerva took his hands, holding them tightly. "You carry Arian with you. Not as a burden. As your birthright."
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then the Queen leaned in and kissed Orion's forehead. The King, ever the proud one, simply pulled him into a quiet, crushing embrace — one that said everything words never could.
When they finally let go, Minerva smiled — soft and tearless, but her eyes betrayed her.
"Go, before I change my mind and lock the gates myself."
Felix let out a gentle puff of frost. "I'm keeping him safe. No matter where we go."
"I know," Minerva whispered, gently touching the dragon's forehead.
Just as the final rays of sunlight breached the Aethercastle's highest spire, a faint hum rippled through the air — the barrier was ready.
And somewhere beyond the gate, destiny waited.
Just as the final rays of sunlight touched the highest spire of the Aethercastle, the air shifted.
It began as a hum — low, ancient, and vibrating through the very bones of the castle itself. The wind stilled. The sky held its breath.
And then, the snow began to fall.
Not the sharp, cutting kind of winter — but soft, feather-light flakes that shimmered like stars. Each one fell with purpose, like blessings written in frost.
The great gates of Aethercastle creaked slightly, not from effort — but from submission. As if even they recognized the presence that now approached.
From the far end of the causeway, the mist parted — not blown away, but bowing — and from its heart emerged a figure vast, elegant, and impossibly still.
Mother Rosen.
She did not walk so much as she moved through the world as if it had always belonged to her. Her form towered above them all, draped in endless coils of shimmering cryo essence — vast and ethereal, like a constellation woven into the shape of a dragon.
Her voice was not spoken. It resonated through the ice, through the stone, through the soul.
"My child... My Envoy. The gates of Arian do not open lightly. But today, they open for you."
The frost beneath their feet formed intricate sigils as her presence washed over them — ancient glyphs glowing faintly in soft blue, marking the rite of passage.
Orion stepped forward, head bowed slightly, eyes filled with a quiet storm of emotion.
"Mother Rosen... I will carry your will. Your name. Your vengeance, if it comes to that."
Rosen's massive head lowered, close enough that her breath kissed his forehead with cold so tender it nearly burned.
"You will not walk alone."
The mist behind her began to shift — and from the very air, the barrier of Arian revealed itself. A dome of celestial ice, ancient and sealed since the last war, now cracking open with divine precision.
She parted it with a single breath — and for a moment, the world outside was visible.
The world beyond Arian.
King Orion and Queen Minerva stepped back, their faces caught between awe and sorrow. Felix stayed close at Orion's side, chest puffed, tiny frost wings shaking with determination.
"Go, my son," Rosen whispered, her voice now quiet, almost tender. "And may all who see you know that the Sovereign has awakened."
Orion took a deep breath.
And stepped through.