"...What is this place? Maybe… a castle?"
Those were the first words that left his lips.
His voice drifted softly through the endless gray fog that blanketed the world around him. It felt thick, heavy, and alive—swirling in lazy rolls that made it impossible to see beyond a few steps. The boy turned slowly, trying to find shape or sound, but there was nothing. Only that colorless haze and the faint echo of his own breath.
He looked down. Cold, uneven stone met his bare feet. The air was damp, and the scent of age lingered—dust, metal, and something faintly sweet, like flowers long since dried.
He frowned, his silver hair sticking slightly to his forehead. "Where are we…?"
The fog swallowed his words. Then—
"I don't know too," came another voice, small and uncertain, from somewhere nearby. "I can't see anything with this gray fog rolling around."
The boy's head snapped up, eyes scanning the empty air. "Who's there?"
The voice sounded again, closer this time, though he couldn't see a thing. "Who's there? I asked first."
A strange comfort bloomed in his chest at the sound—someone else was here. "Yeah, me too," he replied, trying to sound braver than he felt. "I can't see anything in this fog either… I wish it would just—" He paused, hesitating. "—go away."
The moment he said it, the air shifted.
The fog stirred as if something within it had heard him. Slowly, it began to recede, pulling back in smooth, curling motions, revealing dark shapes in the distance. The boy's eyes widened as the world unfolded before him.
The mist parted like curtains, unveiling an ancient castle rising out of the silence.
Towering spires pierced the strange sky, and vines crawled over cracked stone walls. Crumbled statues stood like silent sentinels, and broken banners—faded beyond recognition—hung in tatters from the upper windows. It was grand and lonely, magnificent even in decay.
"Whoa…" The boy's lips parted. "So it is a castle…"
Behind him, the fog cleared even further, exposing a massive gate, old but intact, and beyond it—
The sky.
He tilted his head back, breath catching in awe. The sky wasn't blue. It wasn't even one color. Rivers of green flowed through crimson clouds, merging into streaks of violet and shimmering gold. It looked alive, as if someone had shattered the heavens and mixed the pieces together like liquid glass.
"Woooah…" He blinked several times, as if that would make sense of what he was seeing. "What happened to the sky? Why is it like that?"
"I was gonna ask you that," the same voice piped up again, sounding a bit offended by the question.
The boy spun around, searching. "Where are you? I still can't see you!"
"Down here!"
He looked down—and his eyes went wide.
Standing on the cracked stone in front of him was a tiny creature, no taller than his knee. It had sleek black scales that shimmered faintly like polished obsidian and a pair of small wings that gleamed dark gold when they caught the light. Two golden eyes looked up at him—sharp, bright, and oddly expressive.
For a second, the boy just stared. Then curiosity got the better of him.
"What are you?" he asked, kneeling down for a closer look. "A… lizard?"
The creature's tail bristled. "I am not a lizard!" it shouted, its voice tiny but full of pride. "I'm a dragon! Can't you see my wings? Do lizards have wings? Are you blind?"
The boy blinked at the sudden burst of energy, then raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! My bad! I wasn't sure what you were—I've never seen something like you before."
The little dragon huffed, puffing up its chest as if to make itself look bigger. "You humans… always assuming things."
"Humans?" the boy repeated, confused. "So that's what I am?"
The dragon tilted its head, suspicious. "You don't even know that?"
"Well…" The boy scratched his cheek. "I think so? I mean, I have hands, legs, a face, and I talk. That's human enough, right?"
The dragon stared at him for a long moment. "You're weird."
The boy grinned. "Says the flying lizard."
"I told you, I'm a dragon!"
They glared at each other for a heartbeat—until the boy snorted. The dragon puffed its cheeks, then started giggling too. Soon both were laughing, their voices echoing across the stone floor.
When their laughter faded, the boy caught his breath and smiled. "Alright, alright, you win, Dragon."
"That's better." The dragon flicked its tail, satisfied. "So what's your name, kid?"
The boy blinked. "My name?"
The question echoed in his head. He reached into his thoughts, trying to remember—something, anything. But the moment he grasped at the memory, it dissolved. Like mist. Like it had never existed.
He frowned, the smile slipping from his face. "I… don't know."
He looked down at his hands as if they might offer an answer, but they were only his hands—small, pale, trembling slightly.
"If you're gonna ask my name," he said finally, "why don't you say yours first?"
That made the dragon pause. Its tail stopped swishing. "Huh. My name's…" It frowned, eyes narrowing. "Wait. That's weird. I don't remember either."
The boy blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." The dragon looked frustrated. "I should know it. I can feel it. But every time I try to remember, it just… disappears."
The boy studied the creature for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Guess we're both forgetful, huh?"
"Guess so," the dragon muttered. "It's kinda annoying."
"Then let's not worry about it. Maybe it'll come back later."
The dragon tilted its head thoughtfully. "You're taking this pretty well."
The boy shrugged, a spark of mischief flickering in his purple eyes. "No point crying over something I can't remember. Besides, I've got better things to do."
The dragon squinted. "Like what?"
"Exploring that," the boy said, pointing at the massive castle before them. "There's no way I'm standing around when there's a big, creepy, awesome castle right there. Come on!"
"Wait—hey! Hold on!"
But the boy was already running, his bare feet slapping lightly against the ground. The dragon sighed, muttering something under its breath before fluttering after him, wings buzzing like an impatient bee.
They stopped before the castle's grand doors—two enormous slabs of dark wood bound in iron, their surfaces carved with strange symbols. Despite the cracks and vines covering them, they radiated a faint warmth, as though something behind them still lived.
The boy pressed both hands against the doors. "Here goes nothing."
With a groan like thunder, the doors swung open, revealing a world within.
---
The inside of the castle was breathtaking.
Golden light spilled through broken stained-glass windows, painting the floor in shifting colors. The vast hall beyond stretched endlessly, its pillars rising like trees of marble and its ceiling lost in shadow. Dust floated lazily in the air, glinting like tiny stars.
"Whoa…" the boy breathed. "It's… beautiful."
The dragon landed on his shoulder, equally awed. "I thought it'd be falling apart, but it's—"
"—still alive," the boy finished for him. "Yeah… it feels like it's still alive."
They stepped forward together, their footsteps echoing softly. The walls were lined with murals—paintings of constellations, swirling galaxies, and robed figures holding stars in their hands. Beneath one mural, a line of symbols glowed faintly before fading again, as though the castle were watching them.
The boy grinned. "This is my second time being surprised today."
"Second?"
"The fog disappearing was the first."
"...Fair enough."
At the far end of the hall, a grand staircase split into two curved paths leading upward. The boy ran his fingers along the railing—it was smooth and cool to the touch, yet a faint hum vibrated beneath his skin, like a heartbeat buried deep within the walls.
"Feels weird," he murmured. "Like it's breathing."
"You sure it's not your imagination?" the dragon asked warily.
"Maybe. But I like to think castles can breathe."
"You're strange," the dragon said again, but there was a small smile in its voice this time.
When they reached the upper floor, they found a door of light—towering, silent, and radiant. It glowed softly, like liquid moonlight poured into the shape of an arch. Strange symbols flickered across its surface, changing faster than they could comprehend.
The boy took a hesitant step closer… and then froze.
A strange chill ran down his spine. His chest tightened, his pulse quickened. Every instinct screamed at him—
Don't touch it.
He backed away, shaking his head. "Let's… not go through that."
The dragon blinked, hovering. "Why not?"
"I don't know," the boy admitted. "It just… feels wrong. Like something's behind it that shouldn't be seen."
The dragon looked at the door again, unbothered. "I don't feel anything."
"Good. Then you can stay not feeling it," the boy muttered. "Let's check somewhere else."
They turned down a side passage beside the glowing door, its archway framed with crumbling stone. Beyond it stretched a narrow corridor bathed in shadows, the air cool and still. Somewhere deeper inside, faint echoes whispered—dripping water, maybe, or something older.
The boy looked back once, toward the shining door pulsing like a slow heartbeat, then turned away.
Whatever waited behind it… it wasn't meant for now.
And so, the boy and the little dragon stepped into the dark together—
Two nameless souls at the threshold of an ancient mystery.