Erza's voice shifted, becoming slower, deeper, like the telling of an ancient story passed down through generations. The morning light seemed to dim around her, as if the shadows themselves were leaning in to listen.
"I will tell you," she said, her violet eyes fixed on some distant point that only she could see. "But I will not repeat it. And I will not tolerate pity from a mere human."
Yuuta nodded silently. He did not speak. He did not move. He simply waited, his red eyes steady on her face.
Erza sighed, long and heavy, and began.
"Before you know about my past, you must understand my homeland. My kingdom lies in the southern reaches of the Atlantica Continent—a land known as Frost Death. The snow there never melts. The storms are so fierce that even the bravest warriors avoid engaging in battle on its soil. Many dragons have wondered how any living creature could survive there, let alone build a kingdom. But we did. We thrived. And the Atlantis Kingdom came to rule the entire continent."
She paused, her fingers tracing the arm of the sofa as if she could feel the cold of her homeland through the worn fabric.
"I was born in the Atlantis Kingdom one hundred and ninety-nine years ago, in the deepest part of winter, when the northern lights painted the sky in colors that had no names. The palace was built of crystal and ice, carved from the very heart of a glacier that had stood for millennia. My mother's throne room was so vast that a dragon could spread its wings and fly from one end to the other without touching the walls."
Yuuta's eyes widened slightly. He had known she was old, but hearing the number aloud made it real in a way it had not been before.
"In the beginning of My Birth, the elders and the high dragons came to see me. They came from every corner of the continent, flying through storms that would have grounded any lesser creature. They came to greet my mother and to witness my birth, because my arrival was special."
She said the words without pride, without arrogance. They were simply facts.
"Since Dragon are not fertile creatures. Having two children is considered the limit for royal blood dragons. But I was different. I was the youngest dragon born in Atlantis after my two siblings, which made me the rarest dragon chosen by Heaven. And so the elders whispered about omens and prophecies. Some said I would be the greatest queen who ever lived. Others said I would bring ruin to the kingdom."
She looked down at her hands.
"I was small compared to my siblings—smaller than any dragon child they had ever seen. My scales were soft, like new snow. My wings were so weak that they could not lift me off the ground. But I had my mother's face and her violet eyes, and the elders wondered if I would one day take after her."
Yuuta listened without interrupting. He could see her drifting into her past, her eyes growing distant, her voice softening.
"Everything changed when I reached three years old. The eldest dragon came to examine me, to measure my growth and assess my potential. He placed his massive hands on my head and looked into my eyes. Then he shook his head. He told my mother that I would never grow taller. That I would be short—far shorter than any dragon in recorded history."
Erza's lips pressed together.
"To put it in terms you would understand, I would reach only five feet and ten inches. The height I am now in human form."
Yuuta frowned. "That is not short," he said. "That is average."
Erza's eyes snapped to his. "In this world, perhaps. In my world, dragons grow to be eight, ten, even twelve feet tall. The larger the dragon, the greater the power. Height is a measure of strength, of bloodline, of worth. And I was marked as the weakest because of it."
Yuuta's eyes widened. Eight to twelve feet. He tried to imagine Dragon in human form towering over him, their head brushing the ceiling, their wings spreading wide enough to block out the sun. The image was terrifying and awe-inspiring in equal measure.
Erza continued, her voice flat.
"I was still small. My aura was the weakest of all the royal children. My scales had not hardened. My wings had not grown. The elders began to doubt me. They whispered behind my mother's back. They questioned whether I was worthy of the blood that ran through my veins. Soon, my height and my weakness spread across the entire continent. Every dragon knew of the stunted princess who could barely lift a sword."
She took a breath.
"When I was four years old, my father finally came to visit me."
Her voice changed. It became colder, emptier.
"He was a massive dragon—even in his human form, he stood nine feet tall. His scales were white as snow, his horns curling from his head like a crown of thorns. He had been away at war for years, fighting the Nightmare Horde that had threatened the eastern border. I had dreamed of that moment. I thought he would hold me. I thought he would tell me he was proud of me."
She paused.
"I did not know that he had heard every report. I did not know that he hated me."
Her voice flattened.
"When he finally came to meet me, I ran toward him, smiling, calling out 'Father.' I expected a hug. I expected warmth. Instead, he hit me."
Yuuta's hands curled into fists.
"His fist struck my stomach so hard that it broke several of my ribs and damaged my internal organs. I collapsed in the royal garden, coughing blood onto the flowers. The garden was maintained by magic, kept in bloom even in the deepest winter. My blood stained the white petals red."
She looked at Yuuta.
"He looked down at me—at his own daughter—and said, 'I was right. You are not worthy of my blood. You are still weak, just as the reports said. You are a disgrace to Royal bloodline.'"
Yuuta's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"He turned and walked away to visit my siblings. He left me there, alone, bleeding in the garden. The frost crept over my blood, freezing it into crimson crystals that glittered in the pale light. I lay there for hours before the servants found me."
Erza's eyes were distant, lost in a memory that was nearly two centuries old.
"After that, the elders pressured my mother to make me take the trial. The survival test in the Snow Forest, where nightmare creatures crawl through the darkness and the cold can freeze a dragon's blood. It was an ancient custom, passed down for generations. A dragon child must prove their strength or die trying."
She looked at Yuuta.
"My mother was the Queen of Atlantis. She could have refused. She could have protected me. But she was bound by the same rules that had bound every queen before her. She could not break tradition. She could not save me."
She paused.
"I was thrown into the Snow Forest with nothing—no food, no water, no weapons. My father and the elders watched from a distance, waiting to see if I would survive or be killed. They expected me to die."
A small, bitter smile touched her lips.
"I survived."
"I survived," Erza said, her voice low and steady, though her hands trembled slightly around her teacup. "Barely."
Yuuta leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her face, his own heart pounding as if he were the one living through her memories.
"When I was thrown into the Snow Forest," she said at last, "I did not know what to expect. I had heard the stories, of course. Every dragon child had heard the stories. But the stories did not prepare me for the silence."
She paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup.
"The Snow Forest was silent. Not the kind of silence you find in an empty room or a quiet night. It was the silence of a graveyard. The silence of something that had died and never been buried. The wind did not howl. The trees did not creak. The only sound was my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears, and the soft crunch of my feet in the snow."
She looked at Yuuta.
"I was four years old. I had never been alone before. There had always been servants, guards, tutors, my mother's handmaidens. But in the Snow Forest, there was no one. Just me, the cold, and the things that lived in the dark."
Yuuta wanted to speak, to say something, but he held his tongue. He could see that she was not telling him a story. She was reliving it.
"The first day was the worst," she continued, her eyes growing distant. "I was so scared that I could not think straight. For the first few hours, I told myself that if I just hid, I would be fine. I would survive. I would return to my family and prove them all wrong. My mother used to tell me that nightmare creatures avoided dragons, that they feared our kind. But she was wrong."
Her voice hardened, taking on an edge that Yuuta had never heard before.
"Nightmare creatures are not like other beasts. They do not feel fear. They do not feel hunger. They do not feel anything at all. They are soldiers—the remnants of Zareth's army, left over from a war that ended before the first human crawled out of the mud. They have been wandering the frozen wastes for millennia, killing anything that moves, destroying anything that breathes. And they were not afraid of a four-year-old dragon with soft scales and weak wings."
Yuuta's hands curled into fists, but he said nothing.
"I ran for miles that first day. I ran until my legs burned and my lungs froze and my heart felt like it would burst. The creatures chased me through the snow, their claws scraping against the ice, their howls echoing through the trees like the screams of the damned. I found a cave—a small hole in the side of a cliff, barely big enough for me to squeeze through. I crawled inside and covered my scent with my own waste, because I had nothing else. I had nothing at all."
Yuuta's hands curled into fists, but he did not speak.
"But the creatures did not need to see me to know I was there. They could smell my fear. They could taste it in the air, like blood in the water. They circled the cave for many hours, their shadows passing across the entrance, their claws scraping against the stone. I lay there, frozen, listening to them breathe."
She paused, and her voice dropped.
"I learned something that first night. I learned that the monsters in the stories were not the ones you needed to fear. The real monsters were the ones who watched from a distance, who had the power to save you and chose not to."
Yuuta knew who she meant. He did not need to ask.
"My father and the elders watched from a peak on the edge of the forest. They had a clear view of the entire valley. They could see the cave where I was hiding. They could see the creatures circling it. And they did nothing."
Her voice was flat, empty.
"They wanted to see if I would survive. They wanted to see if I was worthy of the blood that ran through my veins. But really, I think, they wanted to see me die. It would have been easier that way. No more whispers about the weak princess. No more doubts about the royal bloodline. Just another child lost to the forest, forgotten and buried in the snow."
She looked at Yuuta, and her eyes were dry.
"But I did not die."
She looked down at her hands, at the fingers that had killed demons and shattered armies.
"For weeks, I lived like that. Hiding in caves. Eating small creatures that I caught with my bare hands—furry things that squealed when I bit into them, their blood warm against my frozen lips. I covered myself in mud and leaves and anything else I could find, trying to mask my scent, trying to become invisible. The cave became my home. My prison. My only hope."
She paused, and her voice dropped even lower.
"Until he appeared."
Yuuta knew the answer before she said it. He could see it in her eyes—the fear, the rage, the old wound that had never fully healed.
"The mutant horned snow bear," Erza said. "He was massive—seventeen feet tall, with muscles that could crush trees like twigs. His horns were longer than my arms, curved and sharp, stained with the blood of everything he had ever killed. He was the true owner of the cave I had been hiding in, and he was not happy to find me there."
She touched her back, where the scars lay hidden beneath her dress.
"He found me at the mouth of the cave, silhouetted against the pale sun. I remember the way his breath fogged in the cold air. I remember the way his eyes reflected the light, red and hungry. I remember the way the ground shook when he charged."
She took a breath.
"The elders and my father watched from their distant peak. They had been watching me the whole time, waiting to see if I would survive or die. They saw the bear. They saw me run. And they did nothing."
Her voice cracked, just slightly.
"They let me die. My mother wanted to help—I know she did—but she was bound by the same laws that had bound every queen before her. She could not break tradition. She could not save me."
Yuuta's throat tightened.
"I ran. I ran for miles, bleeding from the wounds on my back. The bear's claws had torn my scales open like paper, exposing the flesh beneath. The cold seeped into my spine, freezing my blood, turning my bones to ice. I should have died. I should have been nothing more than a meal for that monster."
She looked at Yuuta, and her eyes were fierce.
"But I did not die. I refused. I fought for my future. I fought for revenge. I fought for the chance to stand in front of my father one day and make him regret every word he had ever spoken. And in that moment, with the bear's claws scraping against my frozen scales, And So I able to create my first spell."
Yuuta leaned forward, his heart pounding.
"The Ice Cocoon," Erza said, her voice softening as she spoke the words, as if the spell itself still held a piece of her soul. "I had seen caterpillars in the garden, wrapping themselves in silk to transform into butterflies. I thought—if they can do it, why can't I? I gathered every scrap of magic I had, every ounce of power, every desperate wish to live. And I wrapped myself in ice."
She held up her hand, and a small crystal of frost formed in her palm. It was no larger than a pebble, delicate and fragile, yet it caught the morning light and scattered it into tiny rainbows that danced across the walls. Yuuta watched it spin slowly between her fingers, mesmerized by its beauty.
"This was the first magic I ever created," she said. "Not the ice spears, not the frozen storms, not the barriers that could stop armies. This. A small cocoon, no bigger than my own body, born from fear and hope and the desperate refusal to die."
She closed her hand, and the frost disappeared.
"The bear smashed against it for months," she continued, her gaze drifting back to the window. "For months, Yuuta. Day after day, night after night, he threw himself against my cocoon. His claws scraped against the ice, leaving deep gouges that healed within hours. His roars shook the forest, sending avalanches crashing down from the mountains. But the cocoon did not break. It would not break. I would not let it."
She touched her chest, where her heart had once beaten with fear and determination.
"Inside, I healed. My wounds closed slowly, the flesh knitting together, the scales growing back one by one. My spine, which had been exposed to the frozen air, mended itself in the silence of that frozen shell. I could feel every crack sealing, every bone fusing, every cell remembering how to be whole. It was painful. It was slow. But I was alive."
She paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her teacup.
"Weeks passed. Maybe months. I lost count of the days. The bear grew weaker with each passing sunrise. His claws, once sharp enough to tear through dragon scale, became dull and cracked. His muscles, once thick as tree trunks, began to waste away. He would sit outside my cocoon for hours, staring at me with eyes that held nothing but exhaustion. And then, one morning, he was gone."
Her voice grew quieter.
"The forest was silent. No roars, no scraping, no pounding. Just the wind and the snow and the slow, steady drip of melting ice. I waited. I waited for hours, for days, afraid that he was hiding, waiting for me to emerge so he could finish what he started. But he did not come back."
She looked down at her hands.
"My mother found me. I do not know how she knew where to look. Perhaps she had been searching for me all along, defying the elders, defying my father, defying the laws that bound her. She found my cocoon hidden beneath the roots of an ancient tree, half-buried in snow, glowing faintly with the last remnants of my magic."
Erza's voice cracked, just slightly.
"She pressed her face against the ice. I could see her through the frost—her silver hair, her violet eyes, her tears freezing on her cheeks. She held me, though she could not touch me, though the ice separated us. She held me and wept."
Yuuta's eyes burned.
"She had not been able to save me. The laws had forbidden it. The elders had forbidden it. My father had forbidden it. But I had saved myself. I had crawled out of that forest covered in frost and blood, and I had looked my father in the eyes, and I had not flinched."
She looked at Yuuta, her violet eyes steady.
"I survived."
The word hung in the air between them, heavy with years of pain and triumph.
Yuuta blinked, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, but Erza saw.
"I bet the elders had to accept you after that," he said, his voice rough. "I bet they had to admit you were strong."
Erza looked at him. Her face was calm, but her eyes were hollow, as if she were staring at something far away, something he could not see.
"No," she said. "That was only the beginning of my suffering."
She turned away, looking out the window at the bright morning sky. The sun had climbed higher, and the shadows on the wall had shortened, but her face remained in shadow.
"The trial was over, but the cruelty had just begun."
To be continued...