Lemma Heartfilia turned sixteen on the day her world ended.
The bells of the capital rang in her name—golden, bright, celebratory.
White banners fluttered from the palace towers, embroidered with the sigil of the Heartfilia family, a lineage said to be blessed by ancient spirits.
By nightfall, those banners burned.
Lemma stood frozen in the corridor outside the grand hall, her silk dress soaked in blood that was not her own. The scent of iron and smoke clung to her lungs, each breath tearing like broken glass.
Inside the hall, bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls.
Her uncles.
Her cousins.
The knights who had sworn their lives to her name.
Dead.
"Why…?" her voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.
Footsteps echoed behind her—measured, unhurried.
Her mother stepped forward.
No—stepmother.
Queen seraphina Heartfilia wore black ceremonial robes, her silver crown untouched by soot. Her face was calm. Beautiful. Cold.
"You were never meant to inherit this kingdom," Seraphina said gently, as if speaking to a child who had made a small mistake. "But your blood… your blood is precious."
Lemma staggered back.
"Mother is dead," Lemma said, her hands trembling. "You killed her. You killed all of them."
Seraphina smiled.
"Yes."
The word fell like a blade.
"The Demon Kings demand a vessel," the queen continued. "A royal soul, untainted. Your birthday ritual was meant to bind their power to me—through you."
Magic surged.
Dark sigils carved themselves into the air, twisting and screaming.
Lemma felt her body lift off the ground, pain exploding through her chest as something invisible crushed her heart.
She screamed.
Seraphina's eyes glowed crimson. "Be grateful, Lemma. You were going to save this kingdom by dying for it."
The spell failed.
The sigils shattered like glass.
Lemma hit the floor and rolled—instinct, terror, survival overriding shock.
She ran.
Behind her, the palace collapsed into chaos.
Fire consumed marble. Screams drowned beneath roaring magic.
By the time Lemma reached the outer gardens, the Heartfilia kingdom was already dead.
She did not remember how long she ran.
Only the cold.
Only the rain.
Only the pain spreading through her body as blood soaked into the earth beneath her.
She collapsed at the edge of a ravine, the world dimming.
Her chest burned where Seraphina's spell had struck—a fatal wound, slow and cruel.
So this was it.
No army.
No allies.
No power.
Just a princess without a kingdom.
"…I don't want to die," Lemma whispered, tears mixing with rain. "I just… I want it back."
The sky darkened.
Not with clouds—but with shadow.
The ground trembled.
A presence descended, vast and ancient, bending the air itself. Golden eyes opened within the darkness, brighter than stars.
A dragon.
Not a legend. Not a dream.
Real.
"You cling to life with hatred," the dragon rumbled, voice echoing inside her skull.
"That is rare."
Lemma laughed weakly, blood on her lips. "Then finish it. I'm useless anyway."
The dragon lowered its massive head until one burning eye filled her vision.
"Useless?" it repeated.
"You survived a Demon King ritual. You endured betrayal without breaking your soul."
"…I'm dying."
"Yes," the dragon agreed calmly. "But I can stop it."
Hope flickered—small, fragile.
"What do you want?" Lemma asked.
The dragon's gaze sharpened.
"Vengeance," it said. "And a witness."
Its claw touched her chest.
Fire poured into her veins.
Pain unlike anything before tore through her body—her scream ripped the night apart as scales of light briefly etched across her skin, then vanished.
When she awoke, the rain was gone.
Her wound was sealed—scarred, imperfect.
The dragon stood watching her.
"You are now my apprentice," it declared. "I will teach you dragon magic."
Lemma sat up slowly, dizzy, heart pounding.
"I… I don't know magic."
"You will learn."
"I'm not smart," she said bitterly. "I failed every arcane test. I have no talent."
The dragon snorted, smoke curling from its nostrils.
"Good," it said.
"Talent breeds arrogance. You will suffer instead."
Lemma clenched her fists.
Her kingdom was gone.
Her family slaughtered.
Her mother—monster—sat on a stolen throne.
If suffering was the price—
"…Teach me anyway," Lemma said, eyes burning. "Even if it takes my whole life."
The dragon smiled.
A terrible, ancient smile.
"Then rise, Lemma Heartfilia," it said.
"Princess of nothing.
Student of dragons.
And future calamity."
Far away, upon a throne built from bones and demon contracts, Queen Seraphina shivered—
For the first time since her victory.