The dawn that followed felt heavier than most.
Not with sorrow—there had been enough of that in Arechi—but with the quiet, crushing weight of what was coming. Frost still clung to the windows of the Black Post, webbing the glass in pale silver veins that caught the early light. It shimmered faintly, like the last fragments of a dream refusing to fade.
Three years.
The number echoed strangely in Midarion's mind. Three winters of survival. Of bruises and laughter, of stolen meals and whispered fears. Three years of growing taller, stronger, sharper—of becoming something neither of them had been meant to be.
And now, at last, the road was open.
Neither Midarion nor Reikika had slept. They had remained awake in the narrow hall overlooking the jungle canopy, knees drawn close, backs against cold stone. Below them, the vast green expanse breathed slowly, mist curling between colossal trees as the stars above dimmed one by one.
Astraelis.
The capital beneath the stars. The citadel of light. The place where fate decided whether you belonged to the world—or were crushed beneath it.
"Do you think they'll really accept us?" Reikika murmured as the sky began to pale.
Midarion didn't answer right away. He watched the last star fade, then smirked faintly. "They won't have a choice."
She smiled, but it didn't fully reach her eyes.
They both knew the truth. No one from the Lawless Lands had ever succeeded. Those who tried were swallowed by the trials—or worse, erased from history entirely. Arechi raised survivors, not heroes. The world beyond feared what thrived in its shadows.
And yet here they were.
Two children shaped by ruin, standing on the edge of heaven.
When the first rays of sunlight crested the distant ridges, Selina was already waiting in the main hall. Two large travel packs lay at her feet, carefully bound with dark leather straps, each marked with subtle runes of preservation.
She smiled when she saw them approach—a tired, proud smile that shimmered dangerously close to breaking.
"You're up early," she said.
Midarion shrugged. "Didn't really sleep."
"I guessed as much." She nudged one of the packs forward. "Supplies. Enough rations for weeks. Bandages, spare clothes. And…" She hesitated, then added softly, "something sweet for the road."
Reikika opened her pack and blinked. "Honey biscuits?"
Selina laughed quietly. "You think I'd let you leave without them?"
Midarion lifted his pack onto his shoulder, testing the weight. "Feels heavy."
Selina stepped closer, her voice gentle. "It's not. You'll realize later it's lighter than what you carry in here." She tapped his chest.
He swallowed.
They walked together through the dim corridors. The Black Post felt different this morning—quieter, like it knew it was letting go of something it would never see again.
Halfway down the hall, Selina stopped.
"Midarion."
He turned.
Her composure shattered. Tears welled and spilled freely, her voice trembling as if she'd been holding it together for years.
"I need you to know… I never hated you. Not once. I was angry. I said things I can't take back."
Her breath hitched. "I feel horrible for it. But I want you to live. I want you to realize every dream you ever whispered to the walls of this place."
She covered her mouth, shoulders shaking.
Midarion stepped forward without thinking. "Selina." His voice was steady, warm. "I never doubted you were a good person. Not for a second."
She looked up, stunned.
"You were hurting," he continued. "That doesn't make you cruel. It makes you human."
She sobbed then, openly, and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Reikika joined them, arms wrapping tight.
For a moment, the world stood still.
They continued down until the air changed—thicker, charged with incense and old magic.
The lower chamber.
Keelzarion rested within, his immense form coiled behind shimmering veils of enchanted silk. Each breath sent a low tremor through the stone. Silver eyes glowed faintly beneath the folds, alert despite the stillness.
They weren't alone.
"Morning, young wolves," Theomar said.
His voice was steady, but something beneath it strained, like iron under pressure.
"Before you depart," he continued, stepping closer to the enclosure, "there is something you must know."
Reikika's spine stiffened.
"The Hand has issued a direct order," Theomar said. "Keelzarion must be released."
The words struck like frostbite.
"He's grown too large to hide," Theomar went on. "The wards masking his presence are weakening. And dragons do not remain unseen forever."
Reikika shook her head. "Release him? But—"
"The Hand said this," Theomar interrupted gently. "'I will personally guide him to the lands where dragons once ruled. No one else in Arechi could ensure his safety.'"
Midarion's chest tightened.
"There, he will learn to hunt. To fly. To survive." Theomar's gaze softened. "He must grow strong enough to defend his own freedom."
"He's still a child," Midarion whispered.
"I know," Theomar replied. "But keeping him here would endanger us all. He needs the storms. The sky. The wild."
Keelzarion stirred. His tail shifted, and his silver eyes met Midarion's.
They understood each other instantly.
Reikika knelt first. "You'll be free," she whispered. "You'll see the real sky."
Midarion stepped forward last. He placed his palm against the veil, warmth seeping through. "Out there," he said hoarsely, "you'll find strength. Train. Grow. Stay alive until we meet again."
A deep, mournful rumble echoed.
Theomar and Reikika withdrew, leaving him alone.
"You're family," Midarion whispered. "Remember that."
The cry that followed shattered him—long, trembling, the same sound Keel had made as a hatchling.
Midarion turned away, blinking fiercely. "Don't do that, you stupid lizard… you'll make me cry too."
When he stepped back into the hall, Elhyra stood waiting as she just arrived in the Black Post. She said nothing—only rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Goodbyes don't mean endings," she said softly. "Only beginnings we cannot yet see."
Outside, the frost was melting under the newborn sun. In the courtyard, Elhyra turned to them both.
She held out two wrapped bundles. "For you, Reikika."
Twin white swords emerged—gleaming like frozen light, etched with silver veins.
"Kaidorin steel," Elhyra said. "Forged in the Kingdom of Spiritual Blades. Twin swords. Unbreakable by mortal flame."
Reikika bowed deeply. "I'll protect them."
Elhyra turned to Midarion, placing a pendant around his neck — black and white stone entwined in perfect balance, a yin and yang of starlight and night.
"A gift from the stars," she said. "So you never forget what you are."
"The one who made Arechi believe it could smile again."
He swallowed hard. "Thank you."
Then Theomar approached, a shape wrapped in black fabric resting in his arms.
"Entrusted by the Hand himself," he said. "Destined for you."
Midarion unwrapped it.
A black katana. Purple veins. A dragon-scale guard.
"Berserker," he whispered.
Theomar raised an eyebrow. "You know its name."
"It was my mother's," Midarion said, his voice shaking.
Theomar nodded. "Then now it returns to its legacy."
The wind stirred. Frost glittered as the four of them gathered by the gates.
Selina was the first to step forward. She hugged them both tightly. "You'll write, right?"
Midarion smirked. "If we survive the trials."
"You will," she said fiercely. "Both of you."
Elhyra followed, her composure finally cracking. She held them close — first Reikika, then Midarion. "Whatever happens, remember — you are more than what the world expects."
Finally, Theomar stepped closer. His presence silenced the wind itself.
"The world beyond these lands will not welcome you," he said slowly. "They'll hear where you come from and call it a curse. Let them. You owe them no apology."
Midarion stood taller. Reikika's eyes gleamed with pride.
Theomar nodded. "Good. Remember — the oath of the Black Post is for life. Wherever you go, you are one of us."
Midarion bowed slightly. "We will."
Theomar's voice followed, low and solemn: "Then go, children of the Black Post. Carry the light."
They turned to the open gates — the same ones they had crossed as broken children. Now they stood tall, the morning sun crowning them with pale gold.
Two horses waited beyond—one black as night, the other white as fresh snow.
Midarion mounted the black stallion. Reikika swung onto the white mare.
Side by side, they crossed the bridge.
Behind them, the gates closed.
Ahead of them, Astraelis waited.
And the world held its breath.