The corridor reeked of rust and fear. Iron bled from the walls; every breath was heavy with the stench of chains and old blood. Midarion's pulse rattled in his ears as two guards advanced, boots clanging against stone. Their eyes weren't on him—they were fixed on the trembling shape pressed against his chest.
A baby dragon.
Their faces twisted, horror turning to frenzy. One spat, "Seize it! Lord Renzo will have our heads if it escapes!"
At Midarion's side, the girl whimpered, fingers tightening on his arm. The hatchling pressed closer, wings folded tight, scales cold with terror. Midarion's stomach knotted. He didn't need to imagine what awaited it beneath Renzo's dirty hands. He had lived that pain himself—scars carved into his skin, nights burned into memory. He couldn't let the same fate fall on this creature.
The guards lunged.
Midarion shoved the girl behind him—moving before thought could catch up. He ducked under the first strike, elbow driving into a rib. Bone gave beneath his weight, a sharp grunt tearing free. Reikika darted forward, wielding a short blade she'd scavenged. Sparks shrieked as steel kissed steel.
But the guards were stronger. Faster. Merciless.
A pommel slammed into Midarion's gut. Breath ripped from his lungs, pain flaring white across his ribs. Another blow cracked his jaw, snapping his head sideways. He staggered and fell, stone rushing up to meet him.
the little girl's scream cut through the din as one guard swept her legs out. She hit the floor hard, knife clattering away.
The hatchling shrieked when iron hands tore it from Midarion's arms. Claws scraped uselessly against stone, wings thrashing. Midarion tried to rise—his arms buckled. Blood slicked his lips. The world swam. He saw the blades lift—one poised above the girl's throat, another angled for the dragon's heart.
"No…"
Useless. He was useless. His muscles refused him; his voice cracked against the blood in his throat.
And something inside him broke.
Not again. Not her. Not the dragon. Not this.
For the first time, he prayed—not to gods he had never known, nor to kings who had abandoned them, but to the stars themselves. His voice was soundless, but his soul screamed:
Please. If you are there… help me. Don't let them take everything again.
The stars answered.
Heat burst in his chest, raw and consuming. Silver flooded his veins, forcing his limbs to arch as if strung on invisible wire. Light spilled from his fingertips—thin at first, then alive, weaving outward like threads spun from dawn.
The guards faltered, blades hovering.
the girl's violet eyes widened, awe and terror warring in her gaze. "What… what are you?"
But Midarion didn't hear—because the world dissolved.
The corridor melted into shadow. He drifted in an endless sea of stars.
Silver strings stretched infinite and alive, weaving across eternity. They pulsed with a rhythm that wasn't sound but resonance, vibrating through his bones. Each shimmer echoed a heartbeat that wasn't his, yet belonged to him.
A stillness fell between heartbeats. The light no longer burned—it sang.
A voice rose from the fabric of light itself, vast and resonant, neither male nor female, older than memory.
Child of the stars… do not fear.
Midarion's breath caught. The words weren't sound—they were truth, etched into the marrow of his soul.
I am Filandra, Spirit of the Thousand strings. I have waited for this moment.
He trembled, weightless in the current of eternity. "What… what am I?"
A vessel. A loom upon which fate will weave. Your Cosmo slept until tonight. Now you awaken. The power is yours, but the choice will always be yours. Wield it not as a weapon… but as your soul.
The silver threads coiled around him, shimmering rivers bending to his thoughts—as if they had always been nerves he'd simply never felt. He willed one to move—light obeyed. Another twined in response to fear, longing, fury.
Time collapsed. Hours—or seconds—bled together.
Filandra's voice echoed one last time. Return. Protect what is yours.
The void shattered.
The corridor rushed back. The guards advanced, blades descending. The silver haired girl lay sprawled, blood streaking her cheek. The hatchling whimpered in a soldier's grip.
But Midarion was no longer the same.
Silver ignited across his skin, lacing every vein with light. Strings lashed outward like whips. One tore the sword from a soldier's hand. Another coiled around an ankle, yanking him down. A third spun into a cocoon of brilliance, snapping shut around a guard mid-swing before hurling him into the wall with a bone-splintering crack.
She gaped, lips trembling. "I… I've never seen anything like that…"
Midarion's chest heaved, sweat stinging his eyes. The strings danced with his will, but every motion seared his nerves raw. His knees buckled. Light flickered, fraying at the edges. Exhaustion closed fast.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy. Dozens. Voices barking in the dark. More guards poured into the corridor, blades flashing.
His silver strings flared once, then sputtered. He had nothing left.
Fear gripped him—but before despair could take root, the air itself shifted.
A shadow descended into the corridor, silent as a blade, still as death.
Every soldier froze. Not from discipline—but from something deeper. Animal terror.
The figure landed lightly, cloak whispering. A hood shadowed her face, but her eyes pierced the dark—steel sharpened in moonlight. pulse rippled outward—not heat, not wind, but a force that bent the air. It wrapped Midarion, the girl and the baby dragon in a veil, a shield spun from silence.
Her voice was calm, unyielding. "Children… move. My name is Elhyra. Follow me, and you will live."
Midarion didn't hesitate. He staggered up, clutching the hatchling, grabbing Reikika's trembling hand. Together, they ran.
The tunnels twisted endlessly, dripping with shadow and water. Shouts echoed far behind, swallowed by stone. Midarion's lungs burned, but Filandra's warmth lingered, guiding every desperate step.
At a fork, the little girl stumbled. Midarion caught her, voice ragged. "Stay with me. Don't let go."
Her violet eyes met his—disbelief softening into something fragile. Trust. She swallowed hard. "My name… it'sReikika."
He blinked, almost forgetting the pain. "Reikika… I won't forget."
She gave a fleeting, pained smile. "Then don't let me die here."
He managed a crooked grin, teeth bloodied. "Not a chance."
They burst into night at last. Cold air slapped their faces. Above, stars stretched endless and silent.
The hatchling stirred against Midarion's chest, chirping faintly.
Elhyra turned, presence steady as steel. "Forget this place. Forget what they did to you. From this moment on… you survive. No hesitation. No looking back."
Midarion tilted his head skyward, breath ragged. The silver threads had dimmed, but Filandra's whisper lingered.
Reikika stared at him, awe and fear entwined. "What… what are you?"
He clenched his fists, meeting her gaze with something close to conviction. "I'm the one who protects now. And we… we survive."
The hatchling pressed closer, as if sealing the vow.
Above them, the stars glittered—eternal witnesses.
Your path begins here, Child of strings, Filandra whispered. Beyond this night lies fire, blood… and destiny.