Silence returned to the Hall of the Ritual.
Not the silence that follows the end of an event… but the silence that feels like a breath held in the chest of the world.
No one spoke anymore.
Even those known for their inability to stay quiet… were silent.
It was as if sound itself had become unwelcome here.
The cracks that had torn the ground moments ago closed.
The stones grew still.
The ancient pillars settled back into place as if trying to convince themselves that what happened… was over.
But something in the air was different.
Heavy.
Alert.
As if the hall was no longer just a stone structure, but a giant being that had suddenly opened its eyes.
The elders stood around the Mirror of Paths without moving.
They did not exchange looks this time.
They stared only at the silver surface… waiting.
Not because they expected something.
But because their bodies — without their permission — refused to relax.
Zamasa crossed his arms, then uncrossed them a moment later.
For the first time in years… even the act of standing felt uncomfortable.
He whispered, in a low voice as if he did not want to disturb the place:
"It seems… our share of strange events is over."
No one answered him.
In the back rows, one of the guards tried to slow his breathing.
He did not know why…
But every inhale sounded louder than it should.
Another cradle passed before the mirror.
The silver surface shone.
A faint star appeared… then vanished.
An ordinary path.
Navara exhaled slowly.
But the breath came out uneven, as if her chest had forgotten the correct rhythm.
She said,
"After seeing a dragon… everything else becomes small."
Farin replied without lifting his eyes,
"No. The world itself… becomes smaller."
Then—
The mirror stopped.
It did not shine.
It did not dim.
It trembled.
A slight vibration… but not on the surface.
From the depth.
As if something beneath it… was knocking.
The elders exchanged looks.
Only this time.
Anata whispered,
"…No."
Before the denial could finish—
The ground exploded.
It was not a sound.
It was an impact.
A massive pressure struck their chests at once.
Several guards staggered, their spears hitting the floor.
One of them felt his teeth clash without control.
The stones cracked.
No…
They did not crack.
They were stretching.
As if the earth was trying to breathe… but did not know how.
Then it emerged.
The Earth Dragon.
It did not rise slowly like something that belonged to this world.
It surged upward.
It pierced the stone the way a spear pierces a fragile body.
Fragments scattered, but no one heard them fall.
Because the roar came after.
A roar not heard with the ears…
But inside the ribcage.
Pressure formed in the lungs.
The inhale was delayed.
The stone neck rose dozens of meters before half the body faded into golden light.
A guard stepped back while staring.
Then looked around in confusion…
As if unsure he was the only one seeing it.
He whispered,
"Are… are we dreaming?"
No one answered.
Even a dream, if this were one, felt too large for the mind to contain.
Farin stared for a long time.
Then said, in a voice that carried weight more than surprise:
"The Earth Dragon… again."
Before the words could settle—
The ceiling opened.
No…
It did not open.
It vanished.
For the first time since the hall was built,
The sky appeared above them.
Golden clouds gathered, turning slowly… then faster.
A massive vortex.
Suddenly, everyone felt that they were the ones inside…
And the world was looking at them.
A shadow descended.
Then spread.
A wing.
Then the other.
The Sky Dragon.
It did not come out of the mirror.
It looked as if it had always been there… it had only decided to be seen now.
It moved through the unreal clouds and roared.
This time…
Everyone heard it.
The sound was not loud…
But it was vast.
So vast that the brain could not tell where it came from.
Anata stepped back half a step before realizing it.
She froze.
She did not even try to regain her position.
Zamasa growled…
But his eyes were shining.
Not with fear.
But with the thrill of a warrior watching history form before him.
He said,
"Three thousand years…"
He stopped.
Swallowed the rest of the sentence.
Because words felt too small to be used here.
But the mirror…
Did not calm down.
The light was no longer coming out of it.
It was overflowing.
Then—
The hall went dark.
Not darkness.
But a soft emptiness.
The walls disappeared.
The pillars.
The ceiling.
Even the sense of distance faded.
An image appeared.
A world.
A golden planet spinning in a primitive silence.
Slowly… with dignity.
Then—
A body wrapped around it.
Massive.
Too large to be seen all at once.
It moved… and kept moving…
Until the mind finally understood what it was seeing.
A dragon.
So enormous that thought itself refused to measure its size.
It circled the world…
Like a ring around a finger.
Zamasa forgot to breathe.
He…
Who had faced war kings without blinking.
His chest rose…
But the inhale did not come.
Farin whispered.
For the first time in his life…
His voice had no armor.
"The Great Dragon…"
Silence spread.
Not just the silence of awe…
But the silence of a mind trying to redefine the meaning of "large."
A second passed.
Or maybe longer.
Time was unclear here.
Then—
Zamasa laughed.
A short, tight laugh.
As if it escaped him.
He said,
"If there must be a new age…
Let it be one the weak do not dare to be born into."
Navara closed her eyes.
When she opened them…
One thought shone inside them.
She said calmly,
"One generation that carries dragons…
Is enough to overturn the balance of a clan."
Farin replied,
"No."
Then he lifted his eyes toward the being wrapped around the world.
"It is enough… to force the world to recalculate."
The Great Dragon kept circling.
Without hurry.
Without interest in who was watching.
As if its existence needed no witness.
Then…
The light began to fade.
The pillars returned.
The walls.
The stone ceiling.
The sky vanished.
But the air…
Was no longer the same.
Everyone felt it.
The hall that had seemed enormous minutes ago…
Now felt smaller in a way that could not be explained.
As if what they had seen…
Had expanded something inside them that would never shrink again.
No one spoke.
Because some moments…
Are not followed by words.
Farin looked at the lined cradles.
Then at the mirror.
Finally, he said,
"Record it."
The scribe hesitated for a moment.
Then asked in a dry voice,
"Which classification… sir?"
Farin was silent.
He looked again at the silver surface.
Then said,
"No classification is worthy of this."
He raised his head slowly.
In his eyes reflected a light that had not been there before.
"Just write…"
He paused.
Then continued:
"That this generation… was not born under an ordinary sky."
Somewhere inside the hall…
An infant moved in his cradle.
He opened his mouth slightly…
Then returned to deep sleep.
Unaware…
That the sky itself…
Had bowed at the moment of his birth.