Part 1 – The First Meeting
Moonlight bathed the elegant marble balcony of the banquet hall, casting silver patterns on the polished floor. Sylvara stood alone, her hands resting gently on the rail as soft music and laughter drifted from behind her. The coronation banquet was in full swing, but she needed a moment away from the crowd, from the stares, the conversations, the weight of her name.
Footsteps approached behind her.
"You've been out here for a while," Kaelen said softly.
Sylvara turned slightly. "I got tired… so I came to take a breath."
Kaelen stepped closer. "Yes, but you're still the guest of honor, you know. People might start wondering where the Silver Dragon's heir vanished off to."
Before Sylvara could answer, a loud voice echoed from the gardens below. She frowned and leaned slightly over the railing. Below, a young man in fine, dark robes was aggressively pushing another boy against a stone pillar. The boy being bullied stood silent, unmoved, his silver-ringed eyes blank and unreadable.
Sylvara's expression darkened.
Kaelen began speaking again, but she cut him off. "We should go back inside," she said quickly. "We've been here long enough."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "Alright, let's go."
"You go ahead. I'll follow in a minute."
With a sigh, Kaelen nodded and stepped back inside.
Once he was gone, Sylvara descended quietly into the moonlit gardens, the rustle of her gown blending with the whisper of leaves. She approached the two figures.
"Enough," she said firmly, her voice slicing through the night air like steel.
The aggressor turned, sneering. "Mind your own business, girl. This has nothing to do with you."
"I was minding my own business," Sylvara replied, her tone cold. "But your loud mouth disturbed me."
The young man scoffed arrogantly. "Do you even know who I am? I'm Vaedros Virelac, son of the Vampire King!"
Sylvara raised an eyebrow. "Oh, the son of the Vampire King? Hmph... I don't care if you were the king himself. Got that?"
A sudden shift in the air. A heavy pressure emanated from Sylvara as she let her aura expand, just enough to make her presence known—draconic, ancient, terrifying. Vaedros paled, stumbled back, and turned to flee, his pride shattered.
Sylvara exhaled slowly and turned to the silent boy.
"You're his brother, right?"
The boy nodded and gave a polite bow. "Auron Virelac. Eldest son of King Azrador Virelac. Thank you for your help, miss… but I could have handled it myself."
Sylvara crossed her arms, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Then why didn't you?"
Before he could answer, her expression suddenly changed. A cold shock ran down her spine as the voice of the Silver Dragon echoed in her mind:
"Kill him."
Her heart froze for a moment. The voice was sharp, commanding, ancient—and filled with loathing. Sylvara's expression remained calm, but her mind whirled.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the garden path.
Auron watched her leave, the faintest smirk curling his lips.
"You shouldn't help your enemies, Princess Sylvara," he whispered to the empty night.
---
Part 2 -Moonlight Waltz
Sylvara re-entered the banquet hall, her composure flawless, but her heart was far from calm.
"Kill him."
The Silver Dragon's voice still echoed in her mind—deep, ancient, laced with venom. She had heard it speak many times before, but never like that. Never with such fury.
She spotted Kaelen immediately. He was standing near the Queen of Virethia, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd. When he noticed her, his shoulders relaxed slightly. Sylvara gave him a faint nod before making her way to her aunt.
As she reached the dais where the Moonveil royals sat, Queen Virella turned with a knowing smile.
"There you are, dear. Just in time."
Sylvara smiled softly. "Apologies for the delay."
"It's your night too," Vaelen added with a grin. "The Silver Flame of the Empire can disappear once or twice."
Before she could respond, a low trumpet sounded. The herald's voice echoed across the chamber.
"Announcing His Grace, Azrador Virelac, King of the Vampire Realm, Lord of Nocturne Keep—accompanied by his heir, Prince Auron Virelac, and Prince Vaedros Virelac."
Sylvara's gaze shifted.
The massive doors at the far end of the hall opened. A hush fell over the crowd.
The Vampire King stepped into the light—tall, regal, with pale, silver-shot hair flowing down his shoulders and crimson-lined robes sweeping behind him. His presence was oppressive, cold and heavy like a night with no moon. Eyes like garnets scanned the room with slow disdain.
To his left walked Vaedros—clearly recovered from his garden humiliation—his jaw clenched and pride wounded, though he tried to hide it.
To the King's right was Auron.
Now in full formal attire, he looked every bit a prince. A black coat with silver embroidery hugged his tall frame. His raven hair fell to his shoulders, and his expression, though calm, was unreadable. When his gaze found Sylvara, he held it.
She didn't flinch—but the voice inside her stirred again.
"He must be destroyed."
Sylvara turned away smoothly before anyone noticed her hesitation.
Queen Virella rose and exchanged formal greetings with King Azrador, who bowed his head in polite deference—though his eyes betrayed little sincerity.
"I've long awaited this moment," he said smoothly, his voice like silk over steel. "The day when the new generation of rulers would meet... and perhaps, shape the fate of the world."
Before anyone could respond, another voice entered the hall—light, graceful, and almost mischievous.
"You speak as though we're all old men, King Azrador."
Sylvara turned. A tall elven man with silver-blonde hair, braided with strands of moon-thread, stepped forward, flanked by warriors in polished armor. His eyes were violet, sharp, and amused.
"Prince Aeris Thalanor," the herald announced.
Aeris bowed dramatically toward the assembled royals, then turned to Sylvara.
"And you," he said with a charming smile, "must be the famed Princess Sylvara Drakonis. I was beginning to wonder if the stories were exaggerated… but I see now they fall short."
Sylvara raised an eyebrow. "You're late."
He laughed. "I wanted to make an entrance."
Kaelen, who had remained quietly at her side, visibly bristled.
Aeris stepped closer, his gaze lingering. "I look forward to getting to know you, Princess. Elenaria was dear to our people. You carry her fire."
Sylvara's expression softened, just slightly. "You knew my mother?"
"I was only a child when she visited our lands. But I remember her—her magic left echoes even after she was gone."
Behind them, the Vampire King observed silently, eyes flickering between Auron and Sylvara with a thoughtful frown.
Queen Virella motioned for the banquet to resume, and music rose once more.
But Sylvara barely touched her food. Her thoughts were still spiraling.
Why had the Silver Dragon reacted so strongly to Auron?
Why had Auron smirked, as if he knew something she didn't?
And why, when he said "you shouldn't help your enemies," did it feel like a warning?
As laughter and music filled the grand hall, Sylvara sat still beneath the glittering chandeliers—bathed in light, yet wrapped in gathering shadows.
The banquet pressed on, but Sylvara barely noticed the clinking of goblets or the distant hum of string instruments. Her thoughts still lingered on the intensity of Auron's gaze—and the Silver Dragon's voice echoing like thunder inside her.
"Princess Sylvara," came a smooth voice beside her, gently pulling her back to the present. "Care for a walk?"
She turned to find Aeris Thalanor, standing in all his elven elegance, one brow slightly arched, hand extended.
Kaelen, seated just across the table, stiffened.
Sylvara looked between them. "I suppose I could use some air."
Without waiting for Kaelen's reaction, she took Aeris's hand.
They slipped out onto one of the palace's many balconies, high above the glowing city of Virethia. The moonlight spilled across the marble like liquid silver, and a soft wind rustled the distant trees.
"You didn't have to rescue me from the banquet," Sylvara said, leaning lightly against the railing. "I was managing just fine."
Aeris smiled. "Ah, but sometimes rescuing is less about danger, and more about boredom."
She gave a small, amused snort. "You think I was bored?"
"I think," Aeris said, stepping beside her, "you've grown used to hiding your thoughts behind duty. But there's always something simmering beneath your surface, isn't there?"
She didn't answer.
He turned to face her fully. "May I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"That boy," he said carefully, "Auron Virelac. You met him in the garden."
Her eyes narrowed. "You saw?"
"I was already on my way toward the banquet hall when I noticed you two. His presence… unnerved me. There's something unnatural in him. Even more than what one would expect from a vampire."
Sylvara didn't respond. Aeris tilted his head.
"He's dangerous, isn't he?"
She finally spoke. "I don't know yet."
"But your dragon does."
At that, Sylvara's gaze snapped to his.
Aeris smiled faintly. "Yes, I can feel its presence in you. As I said—your mother once walked through our woods, carrying the Silver Flame. I remember the feeling. You carry it now, but stronger. Wilder."
Sylvara stared at the city lights. "It's not always easy to carry."
Aeris studied her for a long moment, then changed his tone, lighter now. "Still, I'm glad to finally meet you. The Moonveil Court speaks your name like a legend. Half-dragon, heir of the Empire, raised by the Moon Queen herself."
He leaned closer.
"But I'm not the type to believe in stories, Sylvara. I want to see what you're really made of."
She smirked. "Then watch closely."
From the shadows behind the balcony pillars, Kaelen leaned silently against the wall, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers were tightly clenched around the hilt of his sword.
As Aeris lingered beside Sylvara, clearly enjoying her rare smile, Kaelen finally stepped into the moonlight.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said coolly, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him.
Sylvara blinked. "Kaelen—"
"You've been gone too long," Kaelen said, eyes not leaving Aeris. "The banquet's almost over. People have started to notice."
"I asked her for a moment," Aeris replied, unfazed. "If you're worried about appearances, Commander Blackfyre's son should know better than to eavesdrop from behind pillars."
Kaelen took a step forward. "And you should know better than to corner a guest of Virethia during a royal banquet."
"A corner?" Aeris smirked. "Strange. I thought we were having a conversation."
"That's enough," Sylvara interrupted, stepping between them. "This isn't the place."
Kaelen exhaled slowly and looked at her. "We should go. You still haven't greeted the High Priests of Astralis."
"Fine," she said, casting a last glance at Aeris, who gave a graceful half-bow.
"I'll be around," he murmured.
As they walked back into the glowing hall, Kaelen didn't say a word. Sylvara sighed.
"You don't like him."
"I don't trust him," Kaelen said flatly. "He flirts with his tongue and hides his blade behind his back."
Sylvara gave a small smile. "Sounds like someone I know."
He didn't answer, but the tightness in his grip loosened a little.
---
Part 3 - A Dance Amid Watchful Eyes
The grand hall of Virethia shimmered with a thousand floating lanterns, casting golden light upon flowing gowns and swirling capes. Music echoed from the crystal arches—soft and alluring, drawing nobles to the dance floor like moths to flame.
As Sylvara and Kaelen re-entered, heads turned subtly their way. The heir of the Dragon Empire, absent from the banquet for so long, had returned. She carried herself like moonlight in motion—graceful, composed, and untouchable.
Kaelen, by her side, was a wall of calm fire. His sharp eyes swept the crowd, ever watchful.
Before Sylvara could take another step, Prince Aeris Thalanor approached with a confident smile, dressed in shimmering elven silver, a pale violet gem glinting at his collar.
"My lady," he said, offering a slight bow, "would you do me the honor of this dance?"
Sylvara paused.
Her eyes flicked briefly to Kaelen, who stood rigid. A shadow of something—irritation? jealousy?—crossed his face, but he said nothing.
The music changed, softening into a melodic waltz. Around them, nobles watched with thinly veiled curiosity. The Prince of the Elves and the Dragon Princess—what a spectacle.
"I suppose I owe you that much," Sylvara said coolly, extending her hand.
Aeris took it with a smile that could melt icicles.
They moved to the center of the marble floor.
As the music swelled, he drew her into the dance—a graceful whirl of steps and turns. The elven prince was skilled, guiding with elegance, but Sylvara matched him beat for beat, her expression unreadable.
"You were missed," Aeris said softly, "though I can't say I blame you. The garden is far more peaceful than this sea of fake smiles."
"You seem to thrive in it."
"I've had centuries of practice."
Sylvara's lips curled faintly. "I'll never enjoy games like these."
He leaned closer, just enough for her to hear, "And yet you play them better than most."
She stiffened slightly—but not from his words. Something else stirred.
From across the room, Kaelen watched in silence, hands clenched behind his back. The dance ended with Aeris bowing low, lips brushing her knuckles.
"Thank you, Lady Sylvara."
Before she could respond, another presence entered the room—one she had not noticed until now.
From the far side of the hall, standing beside the Vampire King, was Auron Virelac.
He hadn't danced. He hadn't spoken. He simply watched her… and smiled.
Not like the others.
His was the kind of smile wolves wear before they strike.
And Sylvara, though calm on the surface, felt the Silver Dragon stir inside her once more—the same uneasy ripple that had haunted her since the garden.
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Part 4 - The Black Flame and the Guardian
As the final notes of the waltz faded and the crowd broke into applause, Sylvara stepped away from the center of the hall. She didn't look back at Aeris, nor at the nobles whispering behind their jeweled fans. Her eyes found Kaelen—his jaw tight, arms crossed—and without a word, she moved to stand by his side.
But before they could exchange more than a glance, a voice cut through the soft music and murmuring crowd.
"So this is the infamous Blackfyre."
Kaelen turned.
A man now stood before him—tall, lean, with midnight-dark hair tied loosely behind his neck, and crimson eyes that flickered with quiet amusement. He wore no crown, but his presence was commanding enough to rival one.
Auron Virelac.
The eldest son of the Vampire King.
And vessel of the Black Dragon.
Kaelen didn't bow.
"I've heard your name too," he said evenly. "Though the stories never mentioned you lurking like a shadow."
Auron smiled slightly. "I find the shadows more honest than the light."
His gaze flicked to Sylvara for the briefest moment—something unreadable in his eyes—then returned to Kaelen.
"You guard her like a hound."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "And you circle her like a vulture."
There was a pause. A heavy pause.
Then Auron laughed softly—not mockingly, but with a kind of dark amusement. "Loyalty… I respect that. But don't mistake devotion for strength, Blackfyre."
Kaelen didn't flinch. "And don't mistake silence for fear."
For a moment, their auras pressed against one another—Black flame and Silver steel, clashing without blades, without words. A few guests nearby glanced over, sensing the sudden weight in the air.
Then Auron stepped back, still smiling.
"This realm's going to burn one day," he said, voice low and almost thoughtful. "And I wonder… which one of us will survive the fire."
He gave Sylvara a short, unreadable nod.
Then turned and walked away, vanishing into the sea of nobles.
Kaelen exhaled quietly, not realizing he'd been holding his breath.
Sylvara looked up at him, eyes calm but sharp. "He's dangerous."
Kaelen met her gaze. "So am I."
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