The world was a blur of muted colours beneath Saiya's wings. The first rays of dawn gilded the highest spires of Sunrock, but down below, the kingdom was still a tapestry of grey and blue shadows. She flew with a velocity that rendered her invisible to the waking world, a silent, slicing arrow through the cool morning air. Her mission was urgent, and her patience for her charge's antics was wearing thinner than a moth's wing.
She banked over the bustling heart of the capital. The city was awakening, each creature to its nature. She passed over a street where a portly capybara was unbolting the shutters of his therapeutic mud-bath clinic. A patrol of German Shepherds, their armour polished to a dull gleam, marched in disciplined formation below. As she shot over the main courier route, a flock of doves flying in a neat V were sent tumbling into a chaos of feathers and indignant squawks by the sonic boom of her passage.
"Hey! Watch it!" one chirped furiously, righting himself mid-air.
Saiya didn't spare them a glance. She sped on, past raccoons orchestrating a complex ballet of trash removal, beavers applying final, precise taps to a new aqueduct, and a troop of chimpanzees leading a line of wide-eyed young fawns and fox kits, their arms laden with learning scrolls.
The pristine order of the city centre gave way to the chaotic, vibrant noise of the outer slums, the Warrens. The air grew thick with the mingled scents of spiced street food, uncollected refuse, and the musky odour of too many bodies in too small a place. Saiya's sharp features, accustomed to the crisp, thin air of the palace heights and the open sky, twisted in a comical grimace of profound discomfort. She tucked her wings and dove into the cacophony.
She found him where she suspected she would: at the edge of a dense, jostling crowd gathered around a makeshift racetrack walled in by haphazard, ramshackle dwellings. Pushing her way through with a series of annoyed clicks, she finally reached Prince Boran. He was stretching his legs at the starting line, surrounded by a panther whose sleek muscles coiled with latent power, a cheetah whose frame was a study in aerodynamic perfection, a twitchy hare, and a powerfully built leopard.
"My Prince," Saiya hissed, landing beside him and folding her wings with a sharp snap. "What, by the Great Roost, are you doing? Your father summoned you for this morning. He is waiting! What am I to tell him? You cannot keep doing this to me!"
Boran paid her no mind, his honey-badger focus locked on the track ahead. A lopsided grin played on his muzzle. "You're already here, Saiya. Might as well enjoy the show. You're the fastest bird in the kingdom, yes? Take it as a challenge to get me back to the palace in time." He finally glanced at her, his dark eyes twinkling. "It's like I always say: growth ends where comfort begins."
Saiya finished the quote for him, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out. "Yes, yes. A truly revolutionary philosophy."
She gestured with a wing at the other contestants. "You have no business being in this race. You cannot win."
"Is that your opinion?" he asked, still stretching.
"No," she stated flatly. "It is our nature. You can't fight it. They are all faster than you are. Naturally."
He chuckled, a low, confident sound. "Man, are you in for a show this morning."
A brilliantly coloured macaw, acting as announcer, hopped onto a barrel and grabbed a conch-shell microphone. "Greetings, everyone! I welcome you all!" His voice dropped to a theatrical whisper. "Even the lowest of the low… the reptiles."
The crowd erupted in laughter, while a knot of snakes coiled near the front hissed aggressively, their forked tongues flicking.
"I'm just joking!" the macaw squawked, fluffing his feathers. "We are gathered here to determine the fastest! The most resilient! The master of speed on the land! Here! And! Now!" The crowd roared its approval. "Place your bets!"
A flurry of rats in little caps scurried through the crowd, collecting coins. One stopped before Saiya. With a resigned sigh, she pulled a single gold coin from a small pouch and leaned down. "On the cheetah," she whispered.
The macaw raised a wing. "Runners… on your marks… get set…" He paused for a painfully long time, building the tension. Boran's playful demeanour vanished, his entire body tensing. To his left, the panther locked eyes with him, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He deliberately drew a single, sharp claw across his own throat in a silent, menacing promise.
"GO!"
They exploded from the line. The cheetah was a golden streak, immediately taking the lead. The leopard and panther were a blur of spotted and black fur, with the hare keeping a surprisingly agile pace. Boran, pumping his short, powerful legs, was keeping up, but just barely. As they rounded the first bend, the panther, seeing Boran's stubborn persistence, dropped to all fours and, with a powerful kick of his hind legs, sprayed a shower of dirt and sand directly into the prince's face.
Boran sputtered and faltered, his rhythm broken. The pack left him in their dust. The panther glanced back, his smirk evident even from a distance. "Maybe in another life, Prince!" he called mockingly.
Saiya shook her head, bringing a wing up to cover her face in second-hand embarrassment.
But Boran didn't try to catch up. He stopped dead. His eyes, clearing of the grit, scanned not the track, but the towering, teetering heap of shabby houses that walled it in. Their close-knit construction formed a chaotic, but scalable, latticework. Without a second thought, he veered off the track and launched himself at the lowest roof, digging his claws into the weathered wood.
A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd. The announcer macaw was speechless for a moment. "Well! It seems the Prince has… retired from the race? A tactical surrender?"
*What are you doing, Boran?* Saiya thought, her professional concern momentarily overriding her frustration.
Boran climbed with a fierce, determined energy. He wasn't elegant like the cats, but he was relentless. He leaped from a windowsill to a hanging sign, from a sign to a rickety balcony, his grip firm and his movements surprisingly agile for his stout build. At one point, a plank gave way under his weight, and he dangled by one arm, sending a jolt of terror through Saiya, before he found another purchase and hauled himself up. He was a creature of pure will, scaling the vertical slum.
He finally hauled himself onto the summit, the highest peak in the Warrens, chest heaving. Below, the racetrack was a perfect circle, and the leading runners—the cheetah and the panther—were pounding into the final stretch. The finish line was a clear, straight shot below him.
He jumped.
It wasn't a fall; it was a controlled, mad descent. He slid down a steeply pitched roof, shredding the tiles. He grabbed a loose, hanging rope and swung, tarzan-like, across a gap, landing on a laundry line that he used as a zip-line. He hit the ground in a roll, found his feet, and with two final, powerful bounds, crossed the finish line a mere second before the bewildered cheetah.
Silence.
Then, the macaw found his voice. "He did it! By the feathers on my mother's back, he did it! The most unorthodox, unbelievable, utterly insane victory in the history of the Warrens!"
The owls who had been officiating at the finish line hooted in solemn agreement. Boran had passed first. The crowd's confusion erupted into a deafening cheer. But the panther, skidding to a halt, was furious.
"He can't do that!" he snarled, advancing on the macaw. "He didn't race! He cheated! It's against the rules!"
The macaw puffed out his chest. "My fine, furious feline! There is *no rule* against what he did! The objective was to cross the line first. He did. He wins!"
Boran was presented with a heavy pouch of gold coins. He walked over to the seething panther and held it out. "Here. Take it. I don't need it."
The gesture, meant as peace-making, was taken as the ultimate insult. With a fierce roar, the panther swiped the pouch from Boran's hand, sending coins skittering across the dirt. He glared, his yellow eyes burning with hatred. "This isn't over," he promised, before melting back into the crowd.
Boran simply shrugged, gathered the coins, and then, with a grand gesture, tossed the entire pouch into the air. "Drinks for everyone!"
The ensuing cheer was one of pure, chaotic joy.
***
The flight back to the Sunrock Spire was swift and silent, the wind whipping past them as Saiya carried Boran on her back. The prince, for his part, was quiet, until he began to clear his throat with exaggerated significance.
*Throat-clear. Ahem.*
Saiya ignored him.
*AHEM.* Louder, more persistent.
She rolled her eyes, though he couldn't see it. "Okay, okay," she relented, her voice carrying back on the wind. "I should not have doubted you."
"It's taking every power in my bone not to tell you 'I told you so'," he said, laughter in his voice.
"It was a miracle there was no rule about that," she countered. "That was a bad gamble you took. What if it didn't pay off?"
He just chuckled. "It always does."
They slipped back into the palace through his high balcony window, landing softly in the centre of his opulent chambers. The moment his paws touched the ground, a firm knock echoed from the door.
Panic ensued. Boran began frantically tearing off his dirty, smelly tunic. Saiya darted about, grabbing his formal vest and diadem. In their haste, they knocked over a vase of dried flowers and sent a stack of scrolls tumbling to the floor.
"Prince Boran, are you alright?" a deep, rumbling voice called from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine, General! Perfectly fine!" Boran called out, his voice strained as he struggled with a stubborn sleeve.
"I hear a commotion. I'm coming in, my Prince. I must ensure you are well."
The door swung open to reveal General Korbon, the commander of the royal army. He was a mountain of a grizzly bear, so large he had to dip his head to clear the doorway. His armour was magnificent, plates of burnished gold engraved with the honeycomb sigil of the royal house, and a massive, two-handed warhammer rested easily on his shoulder. His dark eyes swept the room, taking in the disarray, the overturned vase, and Boran standing awkwardly in the middle of it all, now mostly dressed but looking flushed and guilty.
Korbon's gaze moved slowly around the chamber. Then, he looked up. There, clutching the central chandelier with an utterly unconvincing look of innocence, was Saiya.
The General let out a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of the earth. "Let's go," he rumbled, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your father waits."
Boran scurried out first. As Korbon turned to leave, he paused at the door and, without looking back, growled, "I'll deal with you later." The chandelier above him gave a faint, nervous tinkle.
Boran found his father, King Kaelen, standing in a sunlit hallway, looking out over the kingdom. He rushed forward and knelt. "Father. You sent for me."
The older honey badger turned. His frame was still sturdy, but a weariness clung to him that Boran had only recently begun to notice. He hugged his son lightly and pulled him to his feet. "Tell me, General," Kaelen said, a familiar twinkle in his eye, "has the royal palace developed a sewer problem? Or is that the unique fragrance of the Warrens my son has brought to us?"
Boran smiled weakly. "Father, what is this about? Why did you summon me?"
Kaelen's expression grew solemn. He began to walk, Boran falling in step beside him. He spoke of responsibility, of honour, of their family's history as liberators. "We have been charged with keeping the peace, Boran. It is a privilege, but it is also a burden."
"Father, please, be less vague. What is going on?"
King Kaelen stopped and placed a firm paw on his son's shoulder. "Today, before the court and the kingdom, I am naming you Prince Regent."
Boran's blood ran cold. "What? No. Father, I'm not ready."
"I was not ready when my father passed the mantle to me," Kaelen said, his voice gentle but firm. "This is not a choice. It is a responsibility our line must shoulder."
"But Rajar—" Boran protested, mentioning his adopted brother. "He's stronger, a better warrior, the animals respect him—"
"Enough!" Kaelen's voice snapped, sharp as a whip, the first time Boran had heard such anger from him in years. "Stop behaving like a wayward child! Sneaking out, engaging in street races… you are the Prince! You do not get to just do whatever you please!"
Boran recoiled, hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. "You had me followed?"
"You are the Prince!" Kaelen repeated, his voice echoing in the hall. "Everything you do is of consequence!"
With a frustrated growl, Boran turned on his heel and stalked away. The king sighed, the anger draining from him, replaced by a profound sadness. The weight of the crown was heavy, and he was forcing it onto a son who did not yet understand why.
It was General Korbon who intercepted Boran further down the hall. The grizzly's massive frame blocked the path. "My Prince," he rumbled, his voice low. "That was not an easy decision for your father to make." He leaned in closer, his scent of oiled metal and old leather filling Boran's senses. "He carries a burden… a sickness of the spirit, perhaps of the body. The healers do not speak of it, but I see it. He may not be long for this world."
The words hit Boran like a physical blow. All his petulance vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp fear.
"Be strong," Korbon urged. "I do not know the details, but he will tell you when he is ready. Do not let your last days with him be filled with anger."
Shame washed over Boran. He turned and walked back to where his father still stood, staring out at the kingdom he loved. He approached, took his father's worn paw in his own, and kissed the heavy, honeycomb-inset royal ring.
"Forgive me, Father," he whispered, his voice thick. "I behaved like a child. I will do what is needed of me."
Kaelen's smile was warm and relieved. He cupped his son's cheek. "Your mother," he said, his voice soft, "would be very proud."
Later, the sun high in the sky, the main square of Sunrock was a sea of cheering subjects. Music filled the air. Boran stood beside his father inside the grand archway that led to the royal balcony, his formal vest feeling like a shell of lead.
The Captain of the Royal Guard, a massive polar bear named Valka, approached. He was younger than Korbon, but almost as tall, his white fur a stark contrast to his polished, dark-grey armour. A brutal, spiked mace hung at his hip. "My King, My Prince," he said, his voice a cold baritone. "I will be your personal guard on the platform today."
Before either could respond, General Korbon stepped forward, his golden armour gleaming. "See to the crowd, Captain Valka. I will protect the royal family."
A flicker of something—annoyance, ambition—crossed Valka's pale blue eyes. "General, with all due respect, the security of the dais is my purview."
Korbon took a single step forward, a low, sub-audible growl rumbling in his chest that promised unimaginable violence. The air grew cold. "I said," the grizzly repeated, each word a stone dropped into a still pond, "I will protect them."
Valka's jaw tightened. He gave a curt nod. "As you wish." He turned and stalked away, his displeasure evident in the rigid set of his shoulders.
King Kaelen and Prince Boran stepped out into the blinding sunlight and the roar of the crowd. Kaelen raised his paws, and the cheers intensified. He was beloved. He made a few jokes, his voice carrying easily, and the crowd laughed and cheered. He spoke of their shared history, of peace, of prosperity.
"And now," he announced, his voice taking on a grand, ceremonial tone, "the next chapter in our great story! Today, I name my son, Boran, as your Prince Regent!"
The crowd erupted. Kaelen turned to a velvet cushion where a smaller, gleaming diadem rested, the symbol of the Regent. As his fingers closed around it, a sound cut through the celebrations, a sound that froze the blood in every vein and struck at the most primal core of every creature present.
It was a roar. But not from any beast that walked the earth. It was a sound of tearing rock and shattering sky, a wave of pure, ancient power that instilled a terror so profound it silenced the world.
It came from above.
Heads snapped back. Eyes scanned the flawless blue. The roar came again, closer, a promise of annihilation.
And then they saw it. A great shadow fell over the sun. Descending from the heavens, its scales as black as a starless night, wings vast enough to blanket the city, was a dragon. And on its back, silhouetted against the glare, sat a figure of terrible, familiar power.