"Once upon a time, long ago, humans were just tiny creatures that had to hide from the beasts. They feared the claws of the wolves, they feared the storms by the wings of the gryphons, and above all… they feared the shadow of the King, the Dragon. But then, one day, the Prince of the Blue Bloods arose. He was the bravest of all mankind…"

  "Amy—!" The sweet voice of a little girl interrupted,

  her face peeking out from under the blanket, her eyes sparkling as if she had just discovered treasure.

  "The Blue Prince!"

  Her brother laughed. "Yes, the Blue Prince."

  The little girl smiled widely, hugging her pillow tight.

  "Then, how did he defeat the big dragon?"

  "Ahem," her brother cleared his throat.

  The little girl puffed out her cheeks a little in playful protest, rested her chin in her hands, and waited intently.

  "The Blue Prince climbed to the top of a high tower, the howling wind echoed through the sky. He drew his sword of the blue flame and thrust it into the heart of the Dragon King—"

  "Then the prince married the princess!" the little girl guessed excitedly.

  Her brother paused for a moment before smiling faintly.

  "Yes... and the prince and the princess lived happily ever after."

  The little girl yawned widely, snuggling under the blanket. "Amy… "

  "Hmm?"

  "Will you marry a princess too?"

  Her brother blinked for a moment before laughing.

  "What is this?"

  "Well… " The little girl shyly looked away, playing with the edge of her blanket.

  "If you’re my blue prince, you have to marry a princess, right?"

  Her brother gently patted her head.

  "Let me think about it."

  "No! I’ll only allow you to marry a princess who is very kind!"

  The little girl immediately pouted.

  Her brother laughed before whispering softly,

  "Alright, alright."

  The flames in the hearth flickered gently, casting her brother's shadow long on the wall, while the little girl slowly closed her eyes, her breathing steady.

  The leaves rustled softly under the last light of the day. A faint golden shadow melted into the edge of the sky.

  The gentle smile of the little girl from years ago had vanished from her face.

  The girl swallowed hard as a cold wind swept across her skin. She took a step closer… something was waiting in the darkness.

  A woman’s body lay motionless beneath the tree, her cloak stained with blood and dirt. Her breath was shallow.

  This was no princess from a fairy tale.

  The girl pressed her lips together tightly, her heart racing. She should run, but her legs… wouldn’t move. She looked at the woman one more time, then inhaled deeply.

  “Amiri… ” she whispered softly.

  “I have to tell you… ”

  The young man carefully lifted the woman into his arms, her blood smearing his arms and dripping to the ground like an hourglass counting down to death. She was beginning to fade. She might not make it home if he didn’t hurry.

  "Iris, go tell Mother quickly!" he shouted.

  The girl glanced at him before running ahead.

  The woman met his gaze, her breaths shallow and ragged, her body trembling, the world growing hazy with each passing moment.

  "Don’t fall asleep. You’ll be okay… Can you hear me?"

  His voice wavered softly as he held her fragile form even closer.

  When he reached home, the young man hastily pushed open the door with his blood-stained hands, then gently laid the woman on the wooden bed in the corner of the room. The firelight cast a warm glow over the space, yet inside, he felt anything but warmth.

  “Mother, she… ” he spoke, his voice trembling.

  The mother hurriedly set the potion bottle on the table. She grabbed a clean white cloth and pressed it firmly against the wound, but the blood kept flowing.

  “Iris! Hurry and fetch a cloth!” she ordered. The girl ran off immediately.

  The young man stood watching, his eyes filled with worry, as his mother carefully tended to the wound.

  “Don’t worry…” the mother said firmly, her eyes fixed on the wound.

  Iris returned with a cloth and clean water. She gently wiped the wound, the soft drip of water the only sound.

  “Well done, Iris. The bleeding is starting to stop,” the mother said softly, before picking up the potion bottle.

  Amiri sat beside the woman, his eyes filled with concern, his heart heavy with unanswered questions.

  She’s been hurt this badly… how on earth did she survive?

  What could possibly have done this to her?

  The first light of spring streamed through the cottage windows, carrying the scent of smoke from the fireplace and the sweet fragrance of blooms planted all around.

  A little bluebird sang softly, accompanied by the distant crowing of a rooster, greeting the slowly rising sun.

  The wooden door swung open, and Amiri stepped out, carrying a long blackwood bow. It was large enough to take down a fully grown animal. He adjusted the quiver strapped to his side before gently closing the door behind him.

  “Father,” he greeted the middle-aged man, who was alternating between standing and sitting, using a hammer and file to repair a small cart.

  “Going hunting, son?” the father replied with a relaxed expression, despite the evident physical effort involved in repairing the cart.

  “Well—” The young man was about to speak but was cut off.

  “Your mother told me about the young woman’s wounds. I think it’s time to consult Uncle Will,” the father said thoughtfully.

  "Uncle Will?" the young man asked.

  “Yes, he’s often in and out of the village. He might know something,” the father said, turning to the small cart beside him and pushing it toward the young man.

  "Before you leave the village, don't forget to stop by Uncle Taylor's. I heard he has something for you," his father said with a cheerful smile.

  "Alright," the young man took the cart from his father.

  "Be careful, Amiri," the father added, his voice tinged with concern.

  Amiri stepped along the pale brick path, entering the heart of the village.

  Beneath the shade of an elm, two boys played as they turned the well’s crank.

  Around them, villagers exchanged goods and offered directions to passing travelers.

  This was Ariawood, a quiet little village far from the capital, yet nestled in the heart of the kingdom. With well-maintained roads, it served as a perfect stopover for both merchants and travelers.

  Amiri turned right into a familiar alley. After passing the first house, he felt the warmth radiating from a forge that had just been lit. A seasoned man with dark hair and a sturdy build stood at the workbench, lifting and lowering a sheet of drawings.

  “Uncle Taylor!” he called out.

  “Amiri! How’s it going? Long time no see! I’ve been really busy lately,” Uncle Taylor said with a smile.

  “Must be a lot of customers, huh? You’re really good at this,” the young man admired.

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  “Yes, there have been a lot of travelers lately. Oh... here,” Uncle Taylor said as he set the paper down and bent to pull something from the drawer beneath the table.

  “Happy belated birthday, Amiri!” Uncle Taylor said, handing him a gift about the length of a ruler.

  It was a silver dagger, its handle adorned with intricate black patterns. The sheath was made from jet-black animal hide, with a tightly woven grid pattern. Amiri drew the dagger from its sheath. The blade was long and straight, better suited for stabbing, yet still sharp enough for slicing. Though the dagger appeared simple, it was full of subtle elegance.

  “Do you like it?” Uncle Taylor asked, clearly proud.

  "I’m not kidding, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But the sharpness of the blade… " Amiri said, his gaze fixed on the pale silver blade with curiosity.

  "I got it from a traveler. He said this metal can kill a dragon if you strike the right spot," Uncle Taylor said seriously.

  "Haha!" The young man burst into laughter.

  "Dragons? Those are only in fairy tales!"

  Uncle Taylor looked at Amiri with a neutral expression, then after a moment, laughed along happily.

  The young man waved a farewell before walking out of the alley and turning right.

  The aroma of roasted meat and fragrant spices wafted from a house nearly twice the size of the others. Smoke billowed from its chimney, and the windows were flung open in a hurry. A woman with fiery red hair called out.

  “Amiri, where are you off to? Have you had breakfast yet?”

  He turned to reply with a smile, "I'm going hunting, Aunt Lily."

  "Come on, have something to eat first," the middle-aged woman said, waving her hand to invite him inside.

  He parked the cart in front of the inn, and the bell jingled as the door opened.

  Inside, the place looked old but well-kept. He felt warmer as he approached the fireplace, surrounded by rows of wooden tables. The patrons murmured to one another, and some rose to leave.

  Amiri took his usual seat at the counter, where he had a clear view of both the kitchen and the drinks corner. In the kitchen, fresh ingredients, spices, and condiments were neatly arranged.

  Aunt Lily slid the steak into the oven with practiced ease, then poured red wine into the pan, followed by a knob of butter. The pan sizzled sharply, a wave of heat brushing Amiri’s face as the rich aroma of the wine sauce filled the air.

  "Are you busy lately, Aunt?" he asked.

  "A little bit, yeah. At the beginning of spring, we get quite a few customers," Aunt Lily replied.

  “Steak and eggs with warm milk, your usual favorite. And as always, it’s on the house,” Aunt Lily said cheerfully.

  “Again?” he smiled faintly.

  “Well... last time, you brought me a whole wild boar leg. I made ham out of it, and I still haven’t served it all to the guests,” Aunt Lily said, resting her chin on the counter with a lighthearted tone before turning back to the stove.

  “My dad always said that whenever I bring home game, I should share some with you because you once helped him out,” he said while cutting his steak.

  Aunt Lily didn’t turn to reply.

  He ate with relish, washed the meal down with warm milk, then pulled four silver coins from his pocket and slipped them beneath the plate.

  “This is really delicious, Aunt. I have to rush off now, or I’ll be late,” he said before quickly heading out the door.

  “Sure. If you’re ever hungry, come find me, okay—” Aunt Lily’s warm voice echoed from the door just before it was shut quickly.

  Amiri pushed the cart out of the village, surrounded by trees in a myriad of colors, their new leaves just beginning to sprout. A gentle breeze brushed softly across his face.

  "Amiri! Are you going hunting?" A voice called after him.

  He turned and smiled at the dark-brown-haired young man, who stood about as tall as Amiri but carried a bit more muscle.

  “Can’t you train swords with me today?” Erik asked, almost pleading.

  “I can’t today. We’re running low on food at home,” Amiri replied, his expression apologetic.

  “Then I’ll go with you… but let me grab my bow first,” Erik said, rushing into the house.

  Bang! The door slammed shut, followed by the crash of tumbling objects.

  In that instant…

  Amiri felt tiny white petals drifting through the air.

  His mother had once told him that they bloomed boldly, even before the snow had fully melted.

  The gray cobblestone road carried them out of the village, stretching farther and farther until the trees grew tall and dense. This was Stagwood, a forest said in legend to be one of the most bountiful in the kingdom.

  “You’re fifteen now, Amiri. Don’t you have any dreams?” Erik asked, his voice serious.

  “No… just being here makes me happy,” Amiri replied with a gentle smile.

  "I want to go to the Aidengaard, become a mercenary, earn fame and fortune, and marry a beautiful woman," Erik said with a playful grin.

  “Hmm… that does sound interesting,” Amiri murmured softly.

  "Listen, Amiri, if you went to Aidengaard, you'd have women lining up to marry you, no doubt about it!" Erik teased, his face full of mischief.

  "What are you talking about?" Amiri laughed.

  “Your hair color, obviously! That ash-gray shade. Anyone who sees it would love it!” Erik pointed at Amiri’s hair.

  “I don’t think so. When we were kids, you used to call me ‘grayhead Amiri’ all the time,” Amiri said, twirling a strand of his own hair around his finger.

  "Well, I couldn’t help it! Your dad has brown hair, your mom has brown hair, and your little sister has brown hair too." Erik grinned.

  Amiri walked on in silence, passing under the shade of tall trees and among wildflowers in full bloom.

  “Oh… so when will you train me with the sword again?” Erik asked, his voice serious.

  “Why would I? Why not train with your father? Uncle Will is the best swordsman in the village,” Amiri replied.

  “That’s true… but my father isn’t around much. Besides, don’t you remember? When we were kids, I never lost to you,” Erik said, looking straight ahead.

  “Not after you trained with Uncle Elwine, your father. When you came back, I could never beat you again.”

  They walked past oak trees with bluish-green leaves.

  "Oh, and one more thing... Yesterday, I saw you carrying a hurt person into the house," Erik asked.

  “Yeah… she’s not doing very well,” Amiri said, his voice tinged with worry.

  “She’ll be fine,” Erik said firmly.

  "And why are you so sure?"

  "Because Aunt Talia, your mother, was the one who brought me into this world. If anyone can help her, it’s definitely her," Erik said with a faint smile.

  Amiri slowed his breathing. He knew well that, playful as Erik could be, he was also sincere. From childhood to now, Erik had always been a friend he could rely on.

  “Leave the cart here,” Amiri said, and the two stepped into the dense grove of trees. The sunlight gradually faded, the gentle rustle of leaves blending with the distant murmur of a slow-flowing stream.

  The boy crouched, aiming his bow at the young deer just a few paces away. The forest’s silence seemed to hold its breath. He gripped the bow tightly, inhaled, and held his breath. Just as he was about to release the arrow, a squirrel leapt across a branch, startling the deer into a sudden flight. The boy was about to rise and force the shot when his father’s deep voice softly interrupted.

  "Don't do that!"

  His father quickly said, stopping him, before sitting down beside the boy.

  The boy eased the tension on his bowstring and let out a sigh.

  He looked up at his father’s face, his expression not angry but warm and gentle.

  "I'm not telling you to stop because I don't want you to hunt," his father said.

  "But I want you to understand that... hunting isn't just about killing. It's about letting them go without suffering."

  The boy looked at his father, his eyes filled with questions.

  His father smiled gently before continuing.

  "The true hunter must honor it. Never let it live a life of suffering... Aim for the killing shot."

  The father’s teaching made the boy understand, for the first time, one of life’s deeper meanings. He realized that hunting was not merely taking a life, but a matter of respect and responsibility for every choice he made.

  Amiri opened his eyes and held his breath, releasing the arrow toward the young stag that was nearly full-grown. The deer flinched and leapt away, running a few steps before collapsing. It twitched slightly, then lay still.

  “You did well. It must have hit the lungs, or maybe even the heart,” Erik said, patting Amiri on the shoulder.

  Amiri narrowed his eyes as he stared at the deer.

  “And yours?”

  “Over there. Not too far from here,” Erik replied, pointing westward.

  They walked past the deer’s carcass.

  Not far from there, they came upon the carcass lying in the lush green field. The doe was curled up, her body thin and emaciated. Blood slowly seeped from her wounds. One arrow had struck her face near the mouth, while another lodged above her front leg. That must have been what ended her life.

  "Did you shoot it twice?" Amiri asked, startled.

  "No! I only shot once, but it must have already been badly injured," Erik replied confidently.

  "Well, that’s good then…" Amiri murmured softly.

  The afternoon sun shone gently, the sky slowly shifting its colors. A cool breeze carried feathers and leaves drifting through the air, while the scent of grass lingered warmly, as if nature itself were embracing everything around.

  The young deer carcass was hoisted up by the pulley, swinging slightly before finally coming to rest.

  “Thirty Renn for you,” Aunt Anna said, glancing down at the scale needle that had stopped moving.

  On her wooden table, the chopping board and cleaver lay over the bloodstains she had just wiped away. Cuts of meat hung in a neat row, the scent of fresh venison filling the shop, yet her apron remained spotless.

  “Could you cut the hind legs for me? I’ll sell you the rest,” Amiri asked.

  “All right, fifteen Renn then,” she said, reaching into her apron pocket and handing him the silver coins.

  “Thank you, Aunt,” Amiri replied with a faint smile.

  A young man appeared.

  His hair was a soft golden color, falling to the nape of his neck, and his face and skin seemed to glow like an angel’s.

  “Are you the royal family of Celestia?” he asked.

  “If you return to the land you came from, I will ensure your safety.”

  He spoke with a soft smile.

  Suddenly, the young man's exquisite form began to transform.

  It shifted into a massive beast, its shape resembling that of a muscular dragon.

  Its scales gleamed like obsidian under the moonlight.

  Sharp claws extended from its limbs, while angelic, pure white wings stretched wide.

  Its roar cracked through the sky like thunder, almost splitting it apart.

  The dragon opened its massive jaws, revealing terrifyingly sharp teeth.

  It unleashed a beam of pitch-black light that shimmered like its scales.

  A trail of light, despair, and the darkness.

  "Father... Mother... Elle… "

  The little girl screamed, her voice breaking as she collapsed to the ground, the sky itself seeming to shatter around her.

  The young woman jolted awake, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. Cold sweat trickled down her temples, and her heart raced, as though it might burst from her chest.

  “You’re awake, sis?”

  Iris said in a sweet, clear voice as she sat on the chair beside the bed, gently swinging her legs with a book resting on her lap.

  “You’re a mage, aren’t you?…

  Then how did you survive that beast?”

  Iris asked the young woman, her smile tinged with curiosity.