The mountains rose like teeth against the sky.
Snow drifted in pale veils, muffling every sound but the crunch of Kaito's boots. The wind howled through the peaks, carrying whispers that could almost be mistaken for voices.
"This is the edge of the known world," Lira said quietly, her breath fogging the air. "Beyond these ridges lies the Temple of Silence — where even dragons once feared to tread."
Yù Lóng lumbered beside them, her wings folded tight, each movement stiff with pain. The silver burns from Serakai had not yet faded. "It is not fear that held us back," she murmured. "It was memory. The First Flame sleeps here."
Kaito stopped. "The First Flame?"
"The source of dragonfire," Yù Lóng said. "It is not merely heat or destruction — it is the breath of life itself. When the First Flame was stolen, dragons began to wither. Humanity took what it did not understand."
Lira glanced toward Kaito. "If the Silent Peaks guard that secret, Astraea will come here too."
Kaito tightened his grip on his cloak. "Then we get there first."
---
They climbed for hours, the world below fading into mist. The air grew thinner, colder, until their lungs burned. At last, they reached a plateau — a vast frozen plain ringed by black cliffs.
In its center stood a broken statue of a dragon, half-buried in ice, its eyes carved with runes that still pulsed faintly with gold.
"It's ancient," Lira whispered. "Older than the empire."
"Older than time as you know it," Yù Lóng added softly. "This was Soryana's Gate — where the dragons sealed the flame after their betrayal."
Kaito approached, his hand brushing the ice. The surface hissed under his touch, melting slightly from the heat of his aura. Beneath the frost, he glimpsed a sigil — a spiral of fire enclosed within wings.
Before he could study it further, a voice echoed from the cliffs.
"Step away from the Gate, Graveborn."
They turned.
From the shadows emerged a figure wrapped in a black cloak, her hair white as snow, her eyes a startling violet. In her hand was a curved blade that shimmered faintly with blue flame.
"I am Mira, daughter of no house, last child of the Frostscale brood," she said. "You walk in the grave of dragons. Why should I not cut you down?"
Yù Lóng lowered her head slightly, nostrils flaring. "Frostscale blood… You should be extinct."
Mira smirked. "So should you, old one."
Kaito stepped forward, his tone steady. "We're not your enemy. Astraea's army enslaves dragons. They've taken one of your kin. Help us stop her."
Mira's gaze flickered — suspicion battling curiosity. "And why would I trust a Graveborn? Your kind burns first and questions later."
"Because I've already burned everything," Kaito said quietly. "And I'm done letting others decide who deserves to live."
For a long moment, the wind was the only sound. Then Mira sheathed her blade. "Follow me. But if you lie, the snow will be your grave."
---
She led them through a narrow path carved into the mountain. The air shimmered faintly — a protective barrier woven from old magic. Beyond it lay a hidden cavern glowing with faint blue light.
Dozens of smaller dragons — hatchlings and half-grown — slumbered within the ice. Their scales glimmered like shards of moonlight.
Lira gasped. "You've been hiding them…"
Mira nodded. "The last of the freeborn dragons. My mother saved them when Astraea's hunters came. We have survived here in silence, waiting for the world to forget us."
Kaito looked around in awe — the cavern pulsed with the warmth of sleeping life. "Then you're not just hiding," he said. "You're preserving what's left."
Mira's expression softened, though her tone stayed sharp. "Preservation means nothing if the world above kills the sky itself."
She turned to Yù Lóng. "You were once of the elder flight. You knew Soryana, didn't you?"
Yù Lóng's eyes dimmed. "She was mercy incarnate — and condemned for it. I watched as dragons turned on her for choosing to save mankind."
"Then you understand why I can't trust humans," Mira said. "They call mercy betrayal."
Kaito met her gaze. "So do dragons."
For the first time, she smiled — faint, unwilling. "Perhaps you are what the prophecies meant. Fire born of two sins."
Lira unrolled the Prophecy scroll. Its runes pulsed faintly, responding to the cavern's energy. "The verse has changed," she whispered. "'When the Graveborn reaches the Frozen Gate, the flame will awaken not by wrath, but by choice.'"
The air trembled.
The runes on the statue flared with golden light, the ice cracking around it. Beneath the frozen ground, something stirred — ancient, immense, alive.
Mira stepped back, eyes wide. "You've woken it."
Yù Lóng's wings flared, her voice low and reverent. "No… it wakes itself. The First Flame knows its bearer."
Kaito's hands burned with light, the same sigil from the Gate forming on his skin. The fire did not scorch — it warmed.
And then, from the fissures in the ice, a voice older than time whispered:
"Graveborn. You carry the debt of dragons and men alike. The world turns once more toward flame. Choose well, or all will burn."
The light flared — and then darkness swallowed everything.
---
When Kaito opened his eyes, he stood alone in a void of gold and shadow. The First Flame hovered before him, pulsing like a heart.
And somewhere far away, in a cathedral of white marble, Lady Astraea smiled as her seers screamed in unison —
"The First Flame has awakened."