Once, in an age now buried beneath legend, there lived a conqueror who had bent every empire to his will. He alone mastered all energies—light and shadow, flame and frost, life and void. Under his reign, balance existed. Peace endured.
But death claims even gods.
When the conqueror fell, so did the harmony of the world.
Kingdoms fractured. Sorcerer clans turned on one another. Ancient treaties were reduced to ash. Power became currency, and war became law.
And far from those raging battlefields…
Destiny was quietly growing up in the snow.
The Winter Empire in the early morning
The Winter Empire awoke beneath a pale, silvery sky. Frost lay like crystalline lace on the rooftops, and as the citizens began their day, thin wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys.
Moreover, the crystal towers made of white stones rise skyward, the mist permeates the narrow streets, and the golden sunlight reflects off the snow-covered roofs.
Far from the ruins of ancient wars... beyond the borders of crumbled empires... lies the winter empire.
Suddenly a shadow leapt across the rooftops.
A boy, no older than sixteen, moved like living wind.
His dark cloak fluttered behind him, spreading like dragon wings as he bounded effortlessly from one building to another. In each hand, he carried a stolen bottle of milk.
The boy's skin, pale and cool like snow in the moonlight, was flawless, giving him a divine appearance, although his body was slender, every movement revealed a hidden strength,an energy contained beneath his youthful exuberance, a playful mischievousness was naturally present in his body language, in the slight tilt of his head, and in the effortless way he completed each leap, his eyes were a rare silver-blue, bright and sharp, reflecting the sky like frozen stars, long black hair fell past his shoulders, threaded through with natural silver streaks that shimmered whenever light touched them, as though dragonfire itself had brushed him at birth, his lips carried a deep natural red, contrasting strikingly against his pale complexion, a faint, flame-shaped mark glowed in the center of his forehead; subtle yet impossible to ignore. It was not merely a birthmark; it seemed like a symbol of destiny, a silent promise of the power slumbering within him, he wore a crimson robe embroidered with a dragon crest, its threads catching the light with every motion, over it rested a heavy winter cloak, dark and weathered from travel, framing him like a royal mantle, the colors suited him perfectly, as if they were chosen by fate itself.
This is Lucilius Drakaryn, the last descendant of an ancient magical lineage, the only dragon sorcerer alive today, and a member of a dragon bloodline raised in the icy lands.
A prince not of this empire, yet raised within it, under the protection of his mother's royal magical clan.
To the world, he was merely a playful prankster.
To destiny, he was everything.
Below, the shopkeepers were already smiling and pointing upwards.
"Ah… it's Prince Lucilius again," an old baker chuckled.
"He took my milk yesterday too! But look at him fly!" a woman laughed.
Children waved from the windows.
"Prince Luci! Over here!" the children called out.
Lucilius flashed a smile and raised a bottle in greeting.
"Breakfast delivery, express service!" he shouted back.
His laughter echoed through the frosty streets.
Strangely, wherever that laughter went, fear seemed to vanish.
But not everyone was amused.
From the eastern tower gates, a squad of imperial sorcerer-soldiers burst into the streets.
"There he is!" A sorcerer hasten to say
"He's on the rooftops again!" shouted another sorcerer.
Their boots crunched against the ice as they gave chase.
One of them cupped his hands and shouted:
The chief sorcerer said something sly "Prince Lucilius! Stop! We won't harm you,don't make us chase you like this!"
Then Lucilius vaulted over a chimney, landed lightly, and glanced back over his shoulder.
His lips curved into a wicked smile.
Lucilius mischievously challenged, "This trick will not work on me. Catch me if you can!"
He ran forward.
The soldiers grumbled.
"Why does he always say that?" the chief sorcerer muttered.
They followed him through alleyways and across bridges of ice magic, leaping and sliding in pursuit.
One sorcerer tried to grab his cloak but Lucilius twisted midair, flipped backward, and landed behind him.
"Too slow!" said Lucilius laughing.
He tapped the sorcerer's staff and vanished again.
They weren't chasing him merely for stolen milk.
Last night, someone had mysteriously painted enormous caricatures of the empire's emperors across the sacred Frost Mountains, complete with exaggerated noses and crooked crowns.
Only one person in the entire Winter Empire possessed the agility, nerve, and utter lack of fear required to do such a thing.
He is Lucilius Drakaryn.
A chief sorcerer finally called out, his voice firm but tired.
Chief Sorcerer calls out like an announcement saying "Prince! This isn't about punishment. The council just wants to speak with you!"
Lucilius paused atop a bell tower.
Snow drifted around him as he balanced on the narrow edge, the city spread beneath his feet.
He tilted his head.
Lucilius asked, "Ah… the council."
He sighed dramatically.
"Let me guess. Another lecture about responsibility?" Lucilius muttered to himself.
He looked at the milk bottles in his hands.
Then at the people below, watching with fond smiles.
Lucilius softly said, "…Later."
He tossed one bottle down to a startled shopkeeper.
"Breakfast is on me!" Lucilius now said loudly.
The crowd laughed and cheered, and some of them caught a bottle.
Lucilius turned back to the soldiers.
He bowed deeply.
Lucilius said "Tell the council I'll come when I feel like it."
The sorcerers there looked at each other, because they had to go with him, otherwise they would be the ones in trouble.
At that very moment he leaped, not downwards, but forward, towards the dawn light.
After passing a few buildings, Lucius was flying low over a street covered in frost, his shoes lightly touching the icy air.
"Boom."
A powerful force struck him on his side.
He spun uncontrollably and fell onto the ice-covered stones; the breath was knocked out of his lungs, one of the milk bottles shattered, its white contents spreading like a pale mist on the frozen ground.
Before he could stand up, a familiar shadow appeared before him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and exuded an air of dignified authority.
Lucilius blinked at the sight of him,because standing before him was Albus Wulfric, his uncle.
A tall, muscular man, clad in a dark sorcerer's robe, wore a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders. A pendant made of wolf's teeth hung around his neck, an ancient symbol of the Wulfric lineage. Authority and quiet concern were evident in his piercing eyes, and his dark, curly hair extended past his neck, swaying in the wind.
Lucilius groaned and pushed himself up.
Lucilius asked urgently "Uncle Albus… what are you doing here? And why did you make me fall like that?"
Albus crossed his arms.
Albus softly replied "this is the only way to curb your mischief."
He extended a hand and pulled Lucilius to his feet.
"Come, the council awaits you," Albus called softly.
Lucilius dusted snow from his cloak and frowned.
Lucilius refused and said "I don't want to go there, I don't want responsibility. It's boring."
Albus's expression hardened.
Albus said as advice "Responsibility is necessary to fulfill your dreams."
He placed a firm hand on Lucilius's shoulder.
Albus continued speaking strictly "And besides, I am your uncle. I know what's right for you."
Lucilius sighed dramatically.
"That's what grown-ups always say," he said wearily.
Then Albus walked on, smiling, and although Lucilius was feeling both bored and annoyed, he followed his uncle.
Minutes later, they passed through the towering gates of the palace.
Inside, warmth replaced the bitter cold.
Golden braziers burned with controlled flame magic. Frost-carved pillars reached toward vaulted ceilings. The Council Chamber stood vast and majestic, illuminated by glowing crystal orbs that floated silently in the air.
At the far end, upon a dark stone platform, stood the Emperor's throne.
Seated there was Emperor Edward Wulfric.
Though over a hundred years old, his posture was straight, his presence commanding. His silver hair framed a face carved by time and wisdom. His eyes still held the sharp brilliance of a legendary sorcerer,a man who had reshaped empires with strategy and spellcraft alike.
On both sides of the chamber, ministers and council elders occupied carved seats, their robes marking different magical orders.
The room fell silent as Lucilius entered.
Edward's gaze fixed on his grandson.
For a moment, Lucilius felt exposed,like a child caught sneaking sweets.
He shifted uncomfortably.
But then Edward's stern stare softened.
Albus smiled faintly beside him.
The ministers inclined their heads respectfully, though several whispered among themselves.
"He's talented, but reckless, so much power… wasted on pranks," the ministers whispered to each other.
Edward finally spoke.
His voice echoed through the chamber.
Emperor Edward spoke in a stern voice "My grandson… it does not suit you to run from responsibility."
Lucilius scratched the back of his head.
Edward speech continuing "If you flee from duty, you will never achieve your ambitions."
Lucilius looked up with a crooked smile.
Lucilius smiled and said, "I understand that, Grandpa. But I can't be serious all the time."
He spoke casually, far too casually for someone standing before an emperor.
A few ministers gasped softly.
But Edward merely smiled.
Seeing Lucilius safe brought him quiet relief.
Lucilius tilted his head.
Lucilius asked hurriedly "So… can we go now?"
At that moment, a minister abruptly stood up.
The minister condemned it as a crime, saying, "How is that possible, Prince? This time you have mocked the empire itself with your mischief! Even if His Majesty is your grandfather, there are limits!"
Edward's expression sharpened.
His staff struck the stone floor.
Edward said loudly, "Enough."
After the emperor's voice rose, the chamber fell silent.
Edward said with dignity and warning, "He is my grandson. I will punish him myself; no one else has the right to speak about it, and being mischievous is not a crime."
Then he turned toward the minister.
The minister immediately bowed.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the minister said submissively.
Lucilius glanced sideways at Albus, silently asking what awaited him.
Albus leaned down.
Albus said in a husky voice, "Don't worry. Accept whatever punishment comes."
Lucilius wrinkled his nose playfully.
Edward rose slowly from his throne.
Emperor Edward said with a puzzled smile "My grandson, your punishment is simple."
He paused.
The entire chamber leaned forward.
Edward gave a sentence "You will guard the Moon Temple tonight."
A quiet murmur swept through the council.
Everyone knew.
Strange disturbances had been reported there, whispers in the dark, unstable magic currents, shadows moving without source.
Albus's eyes narrowed.
He understood at once that this was not merely punishment, this was a test.
However, Lucilius's face brightened.
Lucilius asked, "The Temple of the Moon? Is that all?"
A smile then spread across his lips.
Edward nodded.
Edward replied with a gentle smile, "That's all."
Lucilius placed his hand over his heart and bowed dramatically.
Lucilius laughed and said, "Agreed!"
He turned towards Albus, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Lucilius posed a curious question, "Something strange is happening there, isn't it?"
Albus gave a slow nod.
Albus said understandingly, "Yes, which is exactly why you're going."
Albus was his uncle, and someone who knew him well, he could easily understand what his nephew would think, when, and under what circumstances.
Hours passed.
Twilight slowly surrendered to night, and the Winter Empire sank beneath a sky washed in deep indigo and silver stars. The frozen city glimmered faintly, its towers reflecting moonlight like carved crystal.
Within the palace training grounds, two figures stood beneath flickering arcane torches.
Lucilius Drakaryn and his uncle, Albus Wolfric.
Cold mist curled around their breath as they faced one another.
Albus crossed his arms.
His voice was calm but probing.
Albus asked, "Now tell me… why did you mock the Frost Mountains with the emperors' faces?"
Lucilius tilted his head.
Albus continued his questioning, "Do you even know who those emperors were? Besides your grandfather?"
Lucilius nodded slowly.
Lucilius replied, "I know, they were legends, powerful sorcerers in their own time."
Albus's eyes narrowed.
Albus posed another question, "Then why deface their carvings?"
Lucilius met his uncle's gaze without hesitation.
His voice carried a certainty far beyond his years.
Lucilius replied, "Because I am better than everyone else."
Albus stiffened.
Lucilius quickly and confidently said, "I'm not saying that out of arrogance, I'm confident. I know I'll become a conqueror someday."
Following that, as a sign of his confidence, he placed a hand over his chest.
For a long moment, Albus said nothing.
Then he stepped forward and rested a hand on Lucilius's shoulder.
His expression softened.
Albus said softly, "Alright, go to the Moon Temple. If you truly want to understand what is happening there, be careful."
Lucilius casually said, "Okay. Thanks for the advice, Uncle, I'm leaving!"
He turned and waved casually.
And just like that, he was gone.
Albus watched him disappear into the corridors.
Then his jaw tightened and his eyes reflected worry.
The boy possessed ancient blood, and ancient blood always attracts ancient dangers.
Night had fully claimed the land.
The Moon Temple lay deep within the Snow Forest near the Winter Empire. By day, the forest shimmered like a frozen paradise.
By night…
It became something else entirely.
Tall trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches clawing at the darkness. Fog crept low along the ground. Only the temple's lanterns burned warmly, casting trembling circles of light.
Lucilius Drakaryn arrived alone.
The temple stood pristine, its walls and floor blanketed with untouched snow. Nearby ice formations whispered softly as water flowed beneath them, echoing through the stillness.
Lucilius stood quietly for a few moments.
Then he sighed.
Lucilius muttered "…This is boring."
Grinning mischievously, he grabbed the rope attached to the massive bell hanging from the temple roof and swung on it.
The bell rang softly.
The sound echoed throughout the forest.
Suddenly, strange noises answered it.
They came from many directions.
It was a low sound, unnatural.
Lucilius froze.
His playful expression vanished.
In a single leap, he jumped and climbed onto the temple roof.
From there, everything was clearly visible.
His silver-blue eyes sharpened; they glowed faintly as they pierced the darkness.
Something moved far away among the trees.
A dark shadow crept unnaturally between the tree trunks, moving stealthily.
Lucilius narrowed his eyes.
"What is that? It looks like an animal, and this is precisely what's causing the confusion here," Lucilius thought for a moment.
Then the shadow disappeared behind a gigantic tree.
Lucilius immediately jumped down silently.
There was no laughter in him, no mischief, only complete focus.
Now, he was not a prankster prince; he was a sorcerer.
Behind the tree, he found them.
Twenty snow lions were found dead.
Their massive white bodies lay scattered across the snow, crimson staining the ground.
Each bore deep wounds gored by horns.
Lucilius clenched his fist.
Something forced them to be hunted…
As he crouched down beside a corpse, a presence rose up behind him.
Slowly and heavily, a buffalo stood there.
Its horns were soaked in blood.
Darkness enveloped its body like living smoke.
Lucilius slowly stood up.
He had been observing it with his calm consciousness.
Lucilius said with the same sensing, "Then... it is not you, you are controlled by it."
The buffalo charged ferociously.
Lucilius effortlessly dodged to the side.
But this time, the buffalo, possessed by the shadow, moved with incredible speed.
It slammed him against a tree.
He fell hard but rolled and got up unharmed.
Lucilius began to laugh loudly.
With an amused chuckle, Lucilius said, "Ha ha... this is going to be fun."
The buffalo scraped its hooves and rammed the tree.
The trunk shattered and fell.
But Lucilius was already gone.
He now stood twenty feet to the left.
He had moved in less than a heartbeat.
Lucilius raised his right hand, preparing a standard binding spell.
But something else answered.
The flame mark on his forehead ignited, his silver-blue eyes blazed, fire erupted across his palm.
Seeing that, Lucilius stared in shock.
Lucilius whispering "…What is this?"
The air warmed instantly, ice melted from rocks, snow hissed into steam.
Even the possessed buffalo recoiled, fear finally breaking through the madness.
The fire in Lucilius's hand condensed, then burst forward as a blazing ray.
It struck the buffalo directly.
Flames consumed it.
In seconds, the creature was reduced to ash.
From the ashes rose a writhing mass of dark negative energy.
Lucilius watched it carefully with his glowing eyes.
The shadow twisted and vanished.
Silence returned to the forest.
Lucilius slowly lowered his hand.
His breathing steadied, the flames faded, and he stood alone beneath the moonlight.
That night, Lucilius drakaryn unknowingly awakened the first part of his true power.
The blood of the conquerors stirred, the legacy of the dragons whispered.
Somewhere beyond the frozen forest...something ancient sensed fire
But fate had only just begun.