But there was another sound.

Deep in the throat of the cavern, a slow, immense rasping vibrated through the stone floor. It was the sound of a mountain breathing. Luca knew that somewhere in that void, the Aethelgard waited. He imagined eyes the size of shields watching him from the shadows, and teeth like jagged ivory ready to tear the life from his body.

In the palace above, he was a prince. Here, he was merely meat.

As his eyes adjusted to the absolute black, the silence began to feel like a physical enemy. It whispered to him of all his failures. It told him that his father was right—that he was a stain on the royal name, a mistake that needed to be erased. He thought of Liam, probably safe with the Prophet, and he felt a pang of relief mixed with a terrible, hollow loneliness.

Luca felt his strength fading. The cold was beginning to seep into his bones, slowing his pulse. Despair, thick and suffocating, closed around his throat. He wanted to scream, to curse the King, to beg for mercy.

But instead, his lips moved, and a sound came out that surprised even him.

It was a song.

It was a melody Liam had hummed in the quiet hours of their chores, a tune that Liam claimed had been hummed by Luca's mother in the final moments before she was taken. It was a lament—a prayer for the lost and the forgotten. Luca began to sing, his voice small and trembling at first, but growing stronger as the notes filled the hollow space.

“We are foolish, O God, we do not know the truth.

We are blind, O God, we do not know our enemy.

Will You return the time I lost?

Why is the world unjust?

Has the hour of our disappearance come?”

The words floated into the darkness. For a moment, even the mountain seemed to stop breathing. The song was a bridge of light in a place that had only known shadow. Luca closed his eyes, tears tracking through the dust on his cheeks. He wasn't singing for the dragon; he was singing for the mother he never knew, and for the life he was about to lose.

Then, the darkness spoke back.

“When God intervenes, do people abandon evil?

Hearts are wounded, truth is ignored.

Is this not the burden of time itself?”

Luca froze. His breath hitched in his chest, and his skin turned to ice. The voice did not sound like a man, nor did it sound like a beast. It sounded like the wind through a graveyard, or the cracking of ice on a frozen lake. It was ancient, heavy, and filled with a sorrow that made Luca’s own grief feel like a raindrop in an ocean.

“Who… who are you?” Luca whispered, his voice barely a thread of sound.

“If you can speak, then you can think,” the voice answered, echoing from every wall at once. “Then why do you speak of goodness while committing evil? Why do you fear the dark when you carry it in your blood?”

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted.

It did not come from a torch or a fire. It was a white, radiant glow that started from a single point and expanded until the entire cavern was visible. Luca shielded his eyes, crying out as the brilliance burned his retinas. When he finally dared to look, his heart nearly stopped.

An old man stood before him. He was tall, his back straight despite the centuries that seemed to weigh upon his shoulders. He had a long white beard that flowed like a waterfall of silver, and his eyes were twin spheres of gold that held the weight of eternity. He wore simple, glowing robes that seemed to be made of woven mist.

And behind him… was the beast.

The Aethelgard was more terrifying than any legend. Its scales were the colour of midnight, reflecting the old man's light like shards of volcanic glass. Its wings were tucked against its sides, massive and powerful enough to crush the palace above. Its head was lowered, its nostrils flaring with every slow, hot breath.

Luca recoiled, his back hitting the jagged stone wall. “Stay back!” he choked out.

“Do not fear,” the old man said gently. His voice was like a calm sea after a storm. “I am here to help you, Little Prince.”

“Why should I believe you?” Luca asked, his body shaking with a violent tremor. “My father sent me here to die. This monster… it’s a killer.”

The old man turned his golden gaze toward the dragon. He reached out a hand, a hand that looked fragile but felt as strong as the mountain, and patted the creature's snout.

“This is my son,” the old man said softly. “He is powerful enough to protect you even when the entire world stands against you. You do not yet understand, Luca, but you must. You have been fed a diet of lies since the day you were born.”

Luca stared, his mind reeling. “Your son? You ask me to befriend a monster soaked in blood? I have heard the stories of the thousands he killed! I will not carry the weight of innocent lives just to survive!”

The old man’s expression shifted. The gentleness didn't leave his face, but it was joined by a terrifying, sharp clarity.

“You know only the stories written by the man who wears the crown,” the old man said, his voice hardening. “My son did not come to this palace to destroy. He came to protect you. Eighteen years ago, he sensed your arrival. He sensed the danger your own father placed you in. But he arrived too late, your mother, Selene, was already gone. When he realized you would live, he did not fight. He surrendered. He allowed himself to be chained so he could remain near you, guarding you from the shadows while you grew.”

The words hit Luca like a physical blow. He looked at the dragon, really looked at it. He saw the heavy, rusted chains that bit into its ankles. He saw the scars on its neck where the "Sun-Guards" had tested their blades against scales that would not break.

“He stayed… for me?” Luca whispered.

“Those who know the truth hide it,” the old man said, his form beginning to fade into a soft, shimmering mist. “Those who do not know it are led astray. The time is coming, Luca. The mountain is waking, and the blood in your veins is calling out to its brother.”

“Wait!” Luca cried, reaching out. “What must I do? Who are you?”

The old man’s voice echoed one last time, sounding as though it were coming from inside Luca's own head.

“The time will come. And every hidden truth will reveal itself. Look not with your eyes, Luca… but with your touch.”

As the light vanished, plunging the cave back into darkness, a low, guttural roar shook the foundations of the world. But this time, Luca didn't scream. Because in the dark, he felt a sudden, radiating heat, and the sound of the dragon’s wings unfurling like a heavy blanket.