But the silence did not last long.

Because somewhere above the square—

the cathedral bells suddenly began ringing.

Once.

Twice.

Then violently.

The sound echoed across the rain-covered capital like a warning from the heavens themselves.

People instinctively stepped backward.

Even hardened soldiers exchanged uneasy glances.

General Vaelor slowly rose to his feet beside the child, his old eyes still locked onto the Dragon Mark glowing faintly beneath the rainwater.

The boy looked confused.

Frightened.

He tightened his grip around the stolen bread.

“I’m not a prince,” the child whispered weakly.

His voice barely rose above the storm.

“I just stole food…”

The old general’s expression cracked for the first time in decades.

Because the prince he once carried through the royal gardens had spoken exactly the same way whenever servants blamed him for sneaking sweets from the kitchens.

Vaelor’s chest tightened painfully.

Impossible.

The infant had vanished during the Night of Ash.

The night the royal palace burned.

The night Queen Elira died screaming beneath collapsing towers while assassins slaughtered the dragon bloodline.

The kingdom had been told the prince died in the flames.

But now—

the impossible stood shivering in the mud before him.

One of the guards nervously stepped forward.

“General… should we arrest the child?”

Vaelor turned slowly.

The look in his eyes nearly stopped the man’s heart.

“Touch him again,” the old commander said quietly, “and I will personally remove your hands.”

The square fell dead silent.

Nobody had heard General Vaelor speak with that kind of cold fury since the Dragon Wars.

The guards instantly backed away.

Rain hammered harder across the stone streets.

Then suddenly—

a voice thundered from the royal staircase above.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The crowd parted instantly.

Royal knights descended the stairs in perfect formation while black cloaks whipped violently in the wind.

And at the center of them—

stood Crown Regent Malrec.

Tall.

Elegant.

Terrifyingly calm.

Silver rings glimmered across his pale fingers while a black royal cloak flowed behind him like smoke.

The ruler of Ashkar since the disappearance of the royal family.

The man who claimed the throne after the massacre.

His sharp eyes immediately landed on the kneeling child.

Then on the Dragon Mark.

For the briefest second—

fear flickered across his face.

But it vanished almost instantly.

The regent smiled.

“Well,” Malrec said softly, “this is unexpected.”

Vaelor stepped protectively in front of the boy.

The old general’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“The child comes with me.”

Malrec slowly descended the final staircase step.

“And why,” he asked calmly, “would the highest commander in Ashkar shield a street thief?”

Vaelor’s jaw tightened.

“Because he is the rightful heir.”

Whispers exploded through the crowd like wildfire.

The rightful heir.

The lost prince.

The dragon bloodline survived.

Some people immediately fell to their knees.

Others stared in horror toward the regent.

Because everyone understood what this meant.

If the child truly carried the Dragon Mark—

then Malrec was not the true ruler of Ashkar.

The regent’s smile remained perfectly calm.

Too calm.

“A dangerous accusation,” he murmured.

Then his eyes lowered toward the child.

“Tell me, boy… what is your name?”

The child hesitated.

“…Ash.”

The name struck Vaelor like lightning.

Queen Elira had secretly called the infant prince “Ash” after the comet ash that fell from the sky the night he was born.

Nobody else should have known that name.

Nobody.

Malrec noticed the old general’s reaction instantly.

And for the first time—

the regent looked genuinely unsettled.

The rain intensified.

Thunder rolled above the city walls.

Then somewhere deep beneath the streets—

a roar echoed through Ashkar.

Low.

Ancient.

Inhuman.

The entire square froze.

People looked around in terror.

Because every citizen of Ashkar knew the legends.

The dragons beneath the mountain had slept since the royal bloodline vanished.

And now—

something had awakened.

Ash flinched as strange heat suddenly spread beneath the scar on his arm.

The Dragon Mark began glowing brighter.

Crimson light pulsed beneath his skin.

The old general immediately grabbed the child protectively.

“We need to leave. Now.”

But Malrec raised one hand.

Hundreds of royal knights instantly surrounded the square.

Steel hissed from scabbards.

The crowd screamed and scattered backward.

“I’m afraid,” the regent said quietly, “that cannot happen.”

Vaelor’s eyes darkened.

“You would spill blood openly before the entire capital?”

Malrec stepped closer.

“No,” he whispered.

“I would protect the kingdom from another dragon war.”

Then he looked toward the soldiers.

“Seize the boy.”

The knights charged.

But before anyone reached Ash—

the ground violently shook.

Cracks exploded across the stone fountain.

People screamed as massive fractures tore through the square itself.

Then—

a deafening roar erupted beneath the city.

The sound was so enormous that windows shattered across nearby buildings.

Horses collapsed in panic.

The royal knights staggered backward.

And from the ancient dragon tunnels beneath Ashkar—

something gigantic began moving.

The square exploded upward.

Stone and fire erupted into the stormy sky as a colossal black shape burst through the ground.

The crowd screamed in absolute terror.

A dragon.

An enormous ancient dragon covered in black scales and glowing crimson eyes.

Larger than castle towers.

Its wings spread across the square like a living storm.

Royal knights dropped their weapons instantly.

Some fled.

Others collapsed where they stood.

Because dragons had vanished from the world decades ago.

The creature lowered its gigantic head slowly toward the child.

Toward Ash.

And then—

to the horror of the entire kingdom—

the dragon knelt.

The city fell silent except for the rain.

Ash stared up at the beast with trembling eyes.

The dragon’s enormous golden pupils reflected his tiny figure standing in the mud.

Then a voice echoed inside his mind.

Not heard through ears.

Felt.

Ancient.

Warm.

You survived.

Ash staggered backward.

The dragon carefully lowered its head further.

Vaelor’s breathing shook violently.

He remembered this creature.

Nightfang.

The last royal dragon.

The beast that once carried King Aldric through the skies during the final Dragon War.

The dragon everyone believed died protecting the royal family during the massacre.

Yet somehow—

it had waited beneath the city all these years.

Waiting for the heir.

Malrec slowly stepped backward, genuine fear finally appearing in his eyes.

“No…” he whispered.

“That’s impossible.”

The dragon suddenly turned toward the regent.

And growled.

The sound alone shattered nearby stone pillars.

Ash clutched his head as flashes exploded through his mind.

Fire consuming palace halls.

Screaming soldiers.

A woman crying while holding him tightly.

And a man—

a man with silver rings covered in blood.

Ash gasped.

His eyes snapped toward Malrec.

“You…”

The regent froze.

“You killed her.”

The square went silent again.

Ash’s voice trembled violently.

“My mother…”

Vaelor stared toward Malrec in horror.

The old general had always suspected betrayal during the massacre.

But never—

never this.

Malrec’s calm mask finally cracked apart.

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Yes, I did.”

Darkness suddenly spiraled around the regent’s body like black smoke.

The crowd screamed.

Several nearby soldiers collapsed instantly as shadow energy spread across the square.

Vaelor’s face turned pale.

“Shadow magic…”

Forbidden magic.

Ancient magic that consumed entire kingdoms during the old wars.

Malrec laughed softly while black energy twisted around his hands.

“You think I spent twenty years ruling this kingdom just to kneel before a starving child?”

The dragon roared furiously.

But before it attacked—

black chains of magic erupted from beneath the square and wrapped around its body.

The dragon crashed against the broken streets with a thunderous scream.

Ash cried out.

The Dragon Mark burned like fire across his arm.

Malrec stepped forward slowly.

“You should have stayed forgotten, little prince.”

Vaelor drew his sword instantly.

The old general charged.

Despite his age, he moved with terrifying speed.

Steel clashed against shadow magic in a burst of sparks.

The square erupted into chaos.

Royal knights loyal to Vaelor suddenly turned against Malrec’s guards.

Citizens fled through rain and fire while the dragon struggled violently against the magical chains.

Ash stumbled backward through the destruction.

Fear overwhelmed him.

He was not a prince.

He was just a hungry child who stole bread to survive.

Why was this happening?

Then suddenly—

someone grabbed him.

A hooded woman emerged from the chaos and pulled him into a nearby alley.

“Come quickly!”

Ash resisted instantly.

“Who are you?!”

The woman lowered her hood.

And Ash froze.

Because she wore the royal crest around her neck.

A silver dragon.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him.

“You have your mother’s eyes.”

The woman’s name was Lyra.

Former royal guardian.

One of the few survivors of the palace massacre.

For eight years she had hidden in the shadows of Ashkar searching endlessly for the lost prince.

And now—

she had finally found him.

Explosions thundered behind them while the city square burned.

Lyra pulled Ash deeper into the hidden tunnels beneath the capital.

“We have to reach the mountain.”

“What mountain?”

“The Dragon Throne.”

Ash frowned in confusion.

But Lyra’s face remained deadly serious.

“If Malrec reaches it first, the kingdom dies.”

Far above them—

Nightfang roared again.

The city shook violently.

Meanwhile, General Vaelor battled through waves of shadow soldiers in the ruined square.

The old commander bled heavily now.

Age slowed him.

But rage kept him standing.

“You murdered the royal family,” Vaelor growled.

Malrec smiled coldly.

“I saved Ashkar.”

Shadow magic exploded outward.

Vaelor crashed through a shattered pillar.

The old general coughed blood.

Malrec approached calmly.

“You know why the dragons disappeared?”

The regent’s eyes darkened.

“Because the royal bloodline was never chosen to protect the dragons.”

He leaned closer.

“The dragons were cages.”

Vaelor’s expression changed.

“What?”

Malrec laughed softly.

“The first kings of Ashkar imprisoned something beneath the mountain centuries ago.”

Thunder exploded above the city.

“The dragons existed only to keep it asleep.”

Vaelor slowly realized the horrifying truth.

The royal bloodline had never controlled dragons.

They had restrained them.

And now the seal was weakening.

Because the heir had returned.

Malrec spread his arms toward the burning capital.

“When the mountain opens… I will control what lies beneath it.”

The old general’s blood ran cold.

“The Void Dragon…”

The regent smiled.

“Yes.”

Deep beneath Ashkar—

Lyra guided Ash through ancient tunnels covered in dragon carvings.

The deeper they traveled, the hotter the air became.

Ash’s Dragon Mark burned brighter with every step.

Then finally—

the tunnels opened into a colossal underground chamber.

Ash stopped breathing.

A massive black throne stood at the center of the cavern.

Behind it—

an enormous stone gate covered in chains pulsed with crimson light.

And from behind the gate—

something breathed.

Slow.

Massive.

Ancient beyond imagination.

Ash felt terror crawl into his chest.

“What is that?”

Lyra looked toward the gate fearfully.

“The first dragon.”

Suddenly—

the chamber shook violently.

Malrec emerged from the darkness behind them surrounded by shadow flames.

Blood stained his armor.

And in one hand—

he carried General Vaelor’s broken sword.

Ash’s face turned pale.

“Where’s the general?”

Malrec’s silence answered everything.

Lyra drew twin blades instantly.

But shadow chains pierced through her chest before she reached him.

Ash screamed.

Lyra collapsed beside the throne, blood spreading across the stone floor.

Yet even dying—

she smiled at him gently.

“Run… my prince…”

Malrec stepped toward the gate.

“The kingdom spent centuries worshipping lies.”

He placed his hand against the ancient chains.

“Tonight, Ashkar becomes eternal.”

The chains began breaking apart.

One by one.

The mountain trembled violently.

The entire capital above began collapsing.

Ash looked toward Lyra.

Toward the dying woman who protected him.

Toward the kingdom burning above.

Then finally—

toward the gate.

And suddenly—

he understood.

The dragons were not monsters.

They were guardians.

And the royal bloodline was never meant to rule.

It was meant to sacrifice.

Tears filled Ash’s eyes.

Because he finally remembered his mother’s last words during the massacre.

“Protect the kingdom… no matter what happens to us.”

The gate exploded.

Darkness flooded into the chamber like liquid night.

And something enormous opened its eyes beyond the broken seal.

The Void Dragon.

Its body seemed made from living shadow and stars.

Its wings stretched endlessly through darkness itself.

One glance from the creature caused the cavern walls to crack apart.

Malrec fell to his knees laughing.

“Yes…”

But the dragon ignored him completely.

Its ancient eyes focused only on Ash.

The child trembled.

Then slowly—

the Void Dragon lowered its colossal head.

And spoke.

“You are the final heir.”

Ash’s voice shook.

“How do I stop this?”

The creature stared at him silently.

Then—

“To seal the gate… the heir must choose eternity.”

Malrec suddenly realized the truth.

“No…”

The Void Dragon continued.

“The guardian king must become the new chain.”

Ash finally understood.

To save Ashkar—

he would lose himself forever.

Malrec screamed furiously.

“No! I did not wait twenty years for THIS!”

Shadow magic exploded wildly across the chamber.

But before Malrec reached the throne—

Nightfang crashed through the cavern ceiling above.

The black dragon seized the regent in its jaws.

Malrec’s screams echoed briefly—

before dragon fire consumed him entirely.

Then silence returned.

Only the trembling mountain remained.

Ash looked toward the Void Dragon.

Toward the throne.

And slowly stepped forward.

Tears rolled down his dirty face.

He was only eight years old.

He had never owned a bed.

Never known his family.

Never even eaten until full.

And now—

he had to save an entire kingdom.

The Dragon Mark glowed brighter than the sun itself.

The throne awakened.

Ancient chains of light spiraled around Ash gently.

The Void Dragon closed its eyes.

And the mountain began sealing once more.

Stone covered the broken gate.

The darkness faded.

The world slowly became quiet.

Ash felt himself disappearing.

Coldness spread through his body.

Then suddenly—

someone grabbed his hand.

General Vaelor.

Alive.

Bleeding heavily.

The old commander had survived.

Behind him stood Lyra as well, weakened but breathing.

Nightfang roared beside them.

Vaelor gripped the child tightly.

“No.”

The old general’s eyes burned fiercely.

“You are not dying today, my prince.”

The Dragon Mark suddenly blazed violently.

And for the first time in centuries—

the ancient throne reacted differently.

Because the kingdom had misunderstood the prophecy.

The heir was never meant to sacrifice himself alone.

The throne required loyalty.

Unity.

Not blood.

Vaelor placed his hand against the throne.

Then Lyra.

Then Nightfang.

Golden light exploded through the chamber.

The ancient seal stabilized instantly.

The Void Dragon slowly smiled.

“A kingdom united…”

The darkness vanished completely.

The gate sealed forever.

And Ash collapsed unconscious into Vaelor’s arms.

Three days later—

the storms above Ashkar finally ended.

Citizens gathered silently across the repaired city square.

The black banners of the false regent had been torn down.

And standing atop the royal staircase—

wearing clean royal clothes for the first time in his life—

stood Ash.

Still barefoot.

Still small.

Still staring nervously at the enormous crowd before him.

General Vaelor knelt beside him.

Not from duty.

From pride.

Then slowly—

the entire kingdom knelt too.

Thousands upon thousands.

Not to a perfect king.

Not to a warrior.

But to the starving little boy who chose to save people who once treated him like dirt.

Ash looked across the city silently.

Then finally smiled.

And high above the capital—

Nightfang soared through the sunlight once again.