At dawn, a pale silver line appeared on the horizon — a sign that a new day was beginning. The dormitory was still silent; most were still asleep. Yet Noa was already awake, sitting at the edge of his bed.
There was no fatigue in his eyes; only determination gleamed. He stood up, inhaled the cold air deeply, and stepped outside.
The courtyard was empty. The ground was damp, and the wind cut sharply like a knife. Noa stretched his arms, his muscles tensing and then relaxing. Every strike he delivered into the air was precise and steady — this was not training for combat; it was a prayer for survival.
Six months ago, a single strike would have brought him down. Now, his body was hardened, his spirit unbreakable.
> "I am not strong," he thought, striking into the cold air, the sound of his fists cutting through the silence. — "I've only learned to endure. And that is more valuable than strength."
By the time the others woke up, whispers had begun to spread. Some laughed, some mocked. Noa paid them no attention. Now he could endure not just blows, but ridicule as well.
When sparring pairs were chosen, only one person faced him — the boy who had mocked him the most. The boy attacked with sharp, confident strikes. But Noa moved lightly, letting the blows pass through the air, and responded with small, precise strikes: to the wrist, the knee, the ribs. Each seemed insignificant alone, but together — they were enough.
The boy stumbled and fell into the dust.
— "Winner: Noa," said the master.
Silence fell. No one laughed anymore. Only eyes full of astonishment remained: How did he do that?
Noa walked away calmly.
> "I am not strong," he said to himself. — "I've only learned not to fall."
That night, in the library, he studied the lines of an ancient manuscript.
> "Every body has its weaknesses," it read.
Noa made a note beside it:
"I was not weak. I was only ignorant. I will not repeat this mistake."
When he returned to his room, Liliya stood by the window — her crimson wings radiating a soft glow.
— "They mocked you again," she said quietly. "But in the end… they fell silent."
Noa turned his face away.
— "It's temporary. They'll come back."
— "Perhaps," said Liliya with a smile. "But you are no longer the same Noa. I can see it."
She spread her wings — the room lit for a brief moment, then she silently soared into the night.
Noa clenched his fists. Alone.
As darkness deepened, he lay down. From the seal in his hand, black smoke slithered into the air and slowly vanished.
> "What is this? And where will it lead me?"
He closed his eyes slowly.
And in the night, in the stillness, only one truth remained:
> There is no turning back now.
---
Noa's Daily Life
Dawn. He is always the first to wake. He runs, toughening his body, striking into the air as he reminds himself: "I am alive."
Morning. His breakfast is simple — stale bread, thin soup… and rat meat. Once repulsive, now it has become a source of strength.
Daytime. He goes to the library, opening dusty manuscripts, studying the anatomy of dragons, learning their history.
Training. He spars. His opponents are bigger, stronger. Yet Noa sees what they cannot hide — the tremor in the knee, the uneven breath, the strain in the wrist. Victory comes not from strength, but patience and observation.
Evening. He returns to the shadows alone. Repeating the same strike — hundreds, thousands of times — until the motion penetrates his bones.
---
At night, moonlight slithered through the window, bathing the room in a half-silver glow. The wind whispered through the curtains.
Noa rested his head on his pillow, eyes closed, when a voice broke the silence:
— "Brother…"
He slowly lifted his head. Liliya stood by the window, her wings dimly glowing, trembling. Her face showed sorrow, her eyes held unshed tears.
Noa stood, voice sharp:
— "How many more times do I have to hear those words?"
Liliya's lips quivered, her voice faltered:
— "Brother… something terrible has happened."
A shadow of doubt fell across Noa's face.
— "What does it have to do with me? Speak plainly."
Liliya took a deep breath, looking at the floor, her hands trembling as if she wanted to stop herself. Her voice carried weight, fear:
— "For the past five months, the empire has been in turmoil. The nobles have tried to secure their positions, and… something happened. Even though I am a princess, my family sent me here to show loyalty. Rumors spread that the Emperor and Empress disappeared. This morning, I received a letter from Rion. Last night… their bodies were found."
Noa's heart froze. His voice quivered with rage and fear:
— "What did you say?"
Liliya lowered her head, her words trembling:
— "They… are dead."
Silence.
The world seemed to stop — the wind, the moonlight, even time itself froze.
Noa leapt to his feet. His eyes widened, fists clenched, veins bulging, breath choking. Only one phrase echoed in his ears: They are dead… they are dead…
Then suddenly —
He struck his fists into the floor. The wooden planks splintered.
— "Nooo!!!"
He struck again. And again. Each blow attempted to drive out the agony in his heart, but the pain only intensified.
— "Why?! Why now?! Why them?!"
His cries echoed between the narrow walls. Liliya wept, unable to approach.
Noa pressed his face into his palms, forehead to the floor. His shoulders shook, voice breaking, tears dropping onto the floor. This was not ordinary crying —
The night stretched on, but Noa did not stop. His fists bled, his knees bruised, breath choking.
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…!!!!
Finally, tears mixed with blood ran down his face, shining unnaturally beautiful in the moonlight.
His voice choked, body exhausted, yet the inner torment remained. Until dawn, he remained there — crushed beneath grief, soaked in blood and tears.
Liliya stood, trembling, watching. She had never seen Noa so broken, so devastated. Her wings quivered, her eyes filled with tears.
Morning came. The silver line appeared on the horizon again. Soldiers stood in formation, discipline in the air.
Zobid's gaze swept across the ranks. Yet the young man who always led the front was absent.
— "Where is Noa?" he demanded sharply.
The soldiers exchanged glances, whispering. No one answered.
Finally, one lowered his head and said:
— "Commander… he never misses. But today…"
Suspicion sharpened in Zobid's eyes.
— "He never skips training. Even wounded, he stands at the front. This is no coincidence. You two — go check his room. And…" — his gaze intensified — "…treat him with respect."
Two soldiers stepped forward.
— "Understood, Commander."
They walked, whispering and laughing:
— "Why do you think he's late?"
— "Who knows, maybe he overslept."
— "When we find him, maybe we'll give him a little lesson. Even if we hold training until lunch, the commander won't punish him. Excuse ready."
— "Ha-ha! Right."
They reached the building. The ancient walls were crumbling, windows covered in dust, doors warped.
— "Here's where he lives. Fit for a prince, right?"
— "Yes… the last stop of the kingdom."
They entered. The dark hallway smelled of damp and cold. Six rooms lay on either side.
— "Which one is his room?"
— "We'll check them all."
They opened each door one by one. Every room — empty, dusty, abandoned.
The first soldier reached for the next doorknob and slowly pushed. The door creaked open…
He froze. Eyes wide, face pale, lips trembling.
The second soldier demanded angrily:
— "What is it? Why—"
But he too looked inside. And his heart froze.
---
Hello, dear readers!
We have now reached the most difficult and pivotal point in Noa's life — in the next chapters, the story will become even more dramatic.
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