---
Cold winds howled over the mountains, snowflakes rising like restless spirits in a ghostly dance. Each breath was ice, stabbing the lungs like needles. Every step on the jagged rocks demanded caution—one misstep could send them plummeting into the endless abyss below.
Rion and Noa walked side by side. Their footsteps echoed eerily between the peaks, drawing them closer to an unknown destination.
"Noa, stay sharp," Rion whispered, his voice low but firm. He placed a steady hand on Noa's shoulder.
Noa glanced at him. "Why aren't we flying? You have wings."
Rion exhaled, weary. "I'd love to, but these mountains are sealed by an ancient spell. Try to take off, and you'll crash."
Deep in the gorge, a massive gate of black metal loomed—ancient, imposing, etched with millennia-old runes buried under dust and frost. It felt alive, yet it demanded more than a simple key to open.
Noa's hand trembled as it reached the gate. He pricked his finger on a sharp stone. Crimson blood touched the runes—and the metal surface flared with a strange light.
Then the glow died.
Noa stared at Rion. "It… shouldn't have rejected me."
Rion's eyes widened. "The gate denied you? But why?"
Noa looked at his bleeding hand. "I'm of high dragon blood. Both my parents are pure high dragons. You said high dragon blood is the key."
Rion turned to the gate. "It accepted me."
He bit his palm, smeared blood across the runes.
A crimson beam shot through the peaks. The gate groaned open.
They stepped inside—walls carved with intricate reliefs, damp cold air, snowflakes whispering like guides to another world.
"Noa, to the side," Rion hissed. A grinding stone sounded. He yanked Noa back just in time. Light spilled from within, illuminating every line as if the walls were speaking secrets.
A dark corridor swallowed them. Each footstep echoed, hearts racing. The chill seeped into skin, testing resolve with every breath.
Rion raised a hand, palm up. A small flame sparked to life—tiny, yet warm enough to pierce the gloom. They advanced slowly, Noa's eyes fixed on the fire.
At the passage's end lay a glowing circle. Light came from nowhere; the darkness seemed to deepen around it. No other path—this circle called from within.
"It's… a teleportation gate," Rion said, voice steady.
"Yes," Noa replied, excitement threading his tone. "Now we activate it."
Rion stepped into the circle and knelt. He pressed both palms to the runic patterns. His eyes burned with focus, heart pounding with arcane energy.
Power flowed from his hands. It began as a faint glow, then swelled, filling the circle with blue-white light. The beam surged upward, shattering the darkness.
Noa joined him, placing his hands beside Rion's. Courage and trust intertwined. Light enveloped them—and exploded outward.
In an instant, the world shifted. The glow consumed them, then vanished, taking the cold, the dark, the stillness with it.
---
Noa opened his eyes.
Narrow streets and towering walls pulled him in—he stood in the capital of the Nuxtar Empire, the homeland where he had once lived as a prince. Every wall, every alley stirred old memories: crumbling carvings, faded inscriptions, dust-covered doors… yet the city still clung to its faded grandeur.
Rion stood beside him. His gaze was cold and alert, but a quiet warmth and reliability shone through. Noa looked at him—wonder, thrill, and a touch of exhaustion in his eyes.
"This… is teleportation, right?" he asked softly, almost to himself.
"Yes," Rion answered with certainty. His voice lent Noa strength.
Noa scanned the surroundings, then turned back. "My head's spinning…"
"You'll get used to it," Rion said with a faint smile, hand on Noa's shoulder. "I've passed through these gates many times. It's never gentle."
Noa gave him a curious look. "So you're seasoned."
Rion dipped his head slightly. "Perhaps… yes."
Noa drew a deep breath, took in the city once more, then faced Rion. "We need to change clothes, wash up, and eat. You've got crystals or gold, right?"
"Yes," Rion replied. "Five gold coins, two mid-grade crystals, twenty silver."
Noa's voice was soft but firm. "I'd expect nothing less from you. You always plan ahead."
They slipped into a shadowed alley for a brief rest, then headed to a small shop.
They changed: Noa into light, flexible yet protective gear beneath a cloak; Rion into a thick leather jacket and reinforced gloves. In the old city, every move was watched—one mistake could be fatal.
Rion touched Noa's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "We're ready," he said, gentle but resolute.
Noa nodded, placing his hand over Rion's. With every step, trust and harmony bound them.
---
They moved through the city. The narrow streets were dark and silent. Walls loomed cold and tall, as if watching. Water dripped from ancient trees, adding a mournful note to the paths. Every corner, every alley told a quiet story—traces of the empire's former wealth and ancient power.
Some doors and windows were dust-choked, but their intricate patterns still held faint traces of magic. Tattered banners hung from walls, colors faded yet shapes unmistakable.
Rion and Noa walked cautiously, fingers brushing the walls to stay oriented. Each step drew them closer to the palace—the heart of the capital, the last ember of imperial might.
---
Inside Noa, a thousand emotions churned: excitement, fear, nostalgia, courage—all tangled together. Here, he remembered his past life, his days as a prince of the empire. Every wall, every banner whispered of lost glory.
Would you like me to format this like the English story chapter (with the "Power Stone" and "Saved to Library" outro) so it perfectly matches the rest of your book's tone?