The moonlight leaked through the cracks in the ancient stone ceiling, casting silver patterns across the cavern walls. Deep within the mountain lair of the Ancient Black Dragon Kuro, a warmth brewed—not from lava or flame, but from something new. Something human.
Kaidën sat on a balcony carved from obsidian, the night wind brushing through his hair. He had just finished dinner—his own handmade seared steak and Kuro's… entire roasted pig. The silence after the meal lingered like the last note of a solemn song.
Kuro, in his smaller, humanoid dragon form, walked up behind Kaidën, arms folded. "You've grown," the dragon rumbled, his voice ancient, yet amused. "And not just taller. Your soul burns differently now."
Kaidën didn't respond. He stared into the darkness beyond the peaks, as if hoping to glimpse his mother's face in the stars. The pain of her absence hadn't dulled—but it had shaped him. Only the gods knew what was happening at her side and if the queen and kids where safe.
