Argh…!
A rough groan escaped my throat as I stretched my stiff limbs. My body felt heavy, sluggish, like I had slept for a century. When I finally forced my eyes open, I froze.
This… wasn't my room.
The ceiling above me shimmered with glowing star-patterns. A crystal chandelier hung like a captured sun, filling the room with soft, warm light. I lay on a king-sized bed, sheets softer than silk I'd ever known.
"Huh…? What—where am I?"
The confusion barely settled before a sudden, brutal headache slammed into me.
"Argh—!"
Memories—foreign, sharp, overwhelming—rushed into my head like a flood breaking past a fragile dam. I clutched the sheets, biting down on the pillow as needle-like pain stabbed deep into my skull. Thoughts that weren't mine were being forced inside—faces, histories, emotions, a life I had never lived.
Minutes felt like hours.
"Hah… hah… F-finally…"
Sweat rolled down my forehead, sliding over my cheeks and chest.
And then… clarity.
This world wasn't Earth.
It was called Aerendyth, a vast realm a hundred times larger than Earth, filled with countless races, kingdoms, and empires—beings humans once called "myths."
Among those memories was a truth that shook me:
I was now Kaelith Ardentflare.
A dragon prince… but a flawed one.
My father was the Third Prince of the Drakonis Imperium, one of the mightiest draconic empires in Aerendyth. But me? I wasn't like them. No wings. No dragonfire. No transformation. Nothing.
A half-breed.
A defect.
My mother had been human—fragile, mortal. Dragons were born from eggs; I was born from her womb. And because of that stain, I had been cast aside to this distant manor.
Still… they didn't dare mistreat me.
Royal blood was sacred here, and even a defective dragon with noble lineage was given resources, money, servants, protection—and a massive library filled with ancient tomes, magical theories, and draconic lore.
And yet… I couldn't use any of it.
The boy before me—the original Kaelith—had died only an hour ago. He tried to carve magic circles into his soul despite suffering from Arcane Rejection, a condition that prevented magic from harmonizing with one's being.
The attempt killed him.
I simply arrived afterward.
When the headache faded, I pulled myself from the bed, legs trembling slightly, and walked toward a tall mirror.
I wasn't prepared for the reflection that stared back.
My breath caught.
I was beautiful—striking, absurdly so. Even without wings or magic, the sight of myself almost stunned me into silence. For a moment, I questioned my own sexuality… my hand even drifted downward—
Ahem.
Everything was still there. Functional.
But the true wonders were my draconic features:
• Horns like white jade, smooth and curved elegantly backward
• Hair of silver-white, glowing faintly under the light
• Golden lashes, delicate and unreal
• Eyes of blue, with a thin red reptilian slit glowing in the center
This was the body of a twelve-year-old.
But for dragons, twelve was nothing—barely a toddler. Dragons reached "teenagehood" around forty due to their long lifespans, one of the top four longest in Aerendyth.
As I explored Kaelith's memories, another truth surfaced: the boy had been a scholar, a quiet genius. He devoured books on history, beasts, plants, magic—anything that might cure his condition.
Unlike the old me, who did nothing but sleep, eat, and waste time.
Having these memories… was a blessing. An advantage no one would expect.
There was no dramatic "soul fusion," no echo of another consciousness. I simply was Kaelith Ardentflare now—fully and completely.
I tore my eyes away from my reflection and scanned the room again. Warm lamps—like modern light bulbs—glowed along the walls. The air smelled faintly of incense. The stars on the ceiling pulsed softly, like living constellations...
Suddenly, dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred.
"Maybe… I should rest," I whispered.
I crawled back into the massive bed. The sheets embraced me warmly.
And as my eyes closed…
Sleep claimed me instantly.