Winter break at St. Heath's Academy had officially begun, blanketing the Silver Dragon Sanctuary in a deep, serene quiet, broken only by the cheerful shouts of children playing in the snow.
"The workaholic and the daughter-obsessed man of the Melkvey family have rediscovered their 'first love,'" the maids would whisper fondly amongst themselves.
That is to say—
The queen diligently managed clan affairs during the day and allowed herself to be thoroughly "admired" by her husband at night, while the Leon spent his days joyfully immersed in the chaos of fatherhood and his nights... passionately engaged in the process of potentially creating more of it.
However, their current "honeymoon phase" was a more mature, settled version of their early days together.
Rossweise, following Leon's persistent advice, no longer worked late into the night and often allowed her afternoons to end early, making herself available for her family—and for being "admired"—in the evenings. Leon, on the other hand, had learned to delegate. He no longer felt the need to personally oversee every scraped knee and sibling squabble. Their daughters were growing up fast and didn't need constant, hovering supervision anymore.
Even their youngest, Muse, could be safely entrusted to the capable, if sometimes mischievous, care of her older sisters.
Observing this efficient system, Leon—ever the strategist—had jokingly concluded to his wife:
"You realize, if we just keep having kids, we'll never actually have to parent them ourselves! By the time the new one is born, the older ones are already self-sufficient. It's the perfect system! Dragon genes for the win!"
Though he teased about it, there were no serious plans to expand the family for now. Their hands and hearts were more than full with their four daughters, and they both understood the uncertain, often dangerous state of the world beyond their sanctuary walls.
The Melkveys were determined that their children would grow up in as carefree and peaceful an environment as possible. For the foreseeable future, Muse would remain the beloved youngest member of the family.
Hefei, the honorary sibling entrusted to them by Constantine, was a special case. Though she had integrated wonderfully into their bustling household, a deep sadness lingered in her eyes. She often thought about her late father, who had been torn from her life just as he was finally learning how to be a parent.
Whenever Hefei fell into these melancholic moods, the entire Melkvey family would instinctively rally around her.
Noah, ever the pragmatist, would offer, "Come train with me—long runs, heavy bag work, sparring until you can't think anymore. That's how I got through... missing Teacher Mevis."
Muen, the family's comfort-giver, would immediately counter, "No, no, no! That's a terrible idea! Hefei just needs to eat, sleep, and then eat some more! Trust me, good food cures everything."
Aurora would roll her brilliant pink eyes. "Stop treating her like a prize pig, second sister. Hefei, listen to me instead. We need a schedule. Spend the morning climbing in through Milan's windows to 'borrow' her hair ribbons, the afternoon 'helping' Anna in the kitchen—which means eating all the samples—and the evening stargazing with Shirley on the highest tower. You'll be so busy you'll forget everything!"
Muse, however, would simply sit by the window with her suona, and speak in her soft, knowing voice. "None of that will truly work. Let her sit here with me and just listen to some music. No talking needed." She'd glance at Hefei. "Trust me, I know what it's like to grow up in a family like ours."
Indeed, Muse's unconventional, soulful music had a unique way of seeping into Hefei's troubled heart, offering a comfort words could not. It seemed they were a natural match, the quiet crimson dragon and the musical prodigy, each finding a silent understanding in the other.
Watching their children bond so well and support one another brought Leon and Rossweise an immense, quiet pride.
"We've done right by Constantine," Leon remarked one afternoon as he stood under a snow-laden cedar tree, watching the children build an elaborate snow-dragon in the courtyard.
Rossweise, wrapped in a thick, silver-furred cloak, stood beside him. Her long silver hair danced like spun moonlight in the wind, making her look like a spirit who had stepped out of a winter fable.
She gazed at the scene—Hefei smiling genuinely as Muen placed a lumpy snow-ball on the dragon's nose—and said softly, "Time flies. It feels like just yesterday she arrived, scared and silent. Now, she's completely become part of the family."
Leon squinted against the bright reflection of the sun on the snow, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious.
"Time really does fly..."
Rossweise glanced at him, her keen eyes narrowing. "What are you thinking about? Why the somber expression all of a sudden?"
"Time flies," he repeated, a note of genuine lament in his voice. "And Noah and Muen are about to grow out of their adorable loli phase and into full-blown, moody teenagers! My little girls are disappearing!"
Rossweise: 😑
"You are the most ridiculous man on this continent."
It was true that fire dragons, even half-bloods, matured much faster than human children. By the age of eight, they were already physically entering the cusp of adolescence, their childish roundness giving way to taller, more defined features.
Still, despite their rapid growth, each daughter retained her unique, captivating charm. And if the older two were maturing, Leon could still, as he often reminded himself, enjoy the playful, uncomplicated youth of Aurora and Muse for several more years to come.
The couple's lighthearted conversation soon drifted into more serious waters, as it often did when they were alone.
"You've been having that dream again, haven't you?" Rossweise asked, her voice dropping so the children wouldn't hear.
Leon hesitated, the shadow returning to his eyes, before giving a single, grim nod.
"Yes. And it's been happening more often. The details are... sharper."
Since allowing himself to relax slightly over the break, Leon had been plagued by a recurring, visceral nightmare.
In his dream, the entire continent of Samuel was shrouded in an unnatural, starless darkness. Entire cities and races were wiped out, leaving behind a silent, desolate wasteland under a bruised purple sky.
At the heart of the devastation was a colossal white dragon, its scales dull and lifeless, mortally wounded atop a jagged, icy mountain. Its massive, once-proud wings drooped lifelessly down the frozen slopes, and rivers of its golden blood had flooded the land below, freezing into macabre glaciers that covered a ground littered with the countless, broken corpses of dragons and other humanoid races.
Leon stood amidst the carnage, a solitary figure, surrounded by the whispering, accusatory voices of the dead.
Before the crushing despair could completely consume him, a vast, formless shadow would envelop the sky, a presence so malevolent and powerful it felt like the world itself was being crushed in a fist. The very air would grow thick and suffocating.
Just as the sky seemed ready to shatter and the world collapse into final ruin, Leon would jolt awake, his body drenched in a cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs.
After several iterations of this terrifying dream, Rossweise had insisted he consult the eldest and most knowledgeable dragons about its meaning.
Leon had taken Noah with him to a secluded ancient, one of the few who remembered the age of Tiamat.
The conversation had been cryptic and unsettling:
Leon: "I dreamed of a great white dragon, dying alone on an icy mountain."
The Elder, his eyes clouded with time: "Hmm..."
Leon: "It looked like it had given everything it had—its power, its life—and still couldn't save anyone."
The Elder: "Hmm..."
Leon: "And it seemed to be leading the dragons, only to be utterly defeated by an overwhelmingly powerful, shadowy enemy."
The Elder: "Hmm..."
Leon, his patience fraying: "Can you please stop humming and tell me who the white dragon is? What does it mean?"
The Elder, after a long silence, his voice like grinding stones: "It is me."
Leon had been struck silent, the air stolen from his lungs.
Despite the elder's shocking revelation, the specific events of the dream—the unique geography of the icy mountain, the specific manner of the dragon's fall, the collapsing sky—did not align with any known history or prophecy. The scenes were entirely new, a premonition of a catastrophe yet to come.
"This is no ordinary nightmare," the elder had concluded, his gaze piercing. "It is a vision. A thread of a possible future."
It could be a sign of Leon's own power awakening further, or a dire warning from the fabric of fate itself. Whatever its origin, Leon felt a cold certainty settling in his bones: the shadow he saw in his dreams, the one that felt chillingly familiar, would soon descend to disrupt their hard-won peace.
Rossweise observed her husband's profile. His expression was as strong and resolute as ever, but the weight of his visions was evident in the tightness around his mouth and the distant look in his eyes.
She stepped closer, her boots crunching softly in the pristine snow. Standing on her toes, she gently cupped his face, turned it toward her, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, pouring all her love and reassurance into the simple act.
When she pulled away, her silver eyes were shining with fierce determination.
"There. Now tonight, you'll dream of me instead," she whispered, her breath a warm cloud in the cold air. "Only me."