Chương 255: 48. Dragon Soul 2

The last of the dragon eyes closed, one by one, until the dark was simply dark again. The weight of an entire era pressing down on my shoulders didn't vanish. It just migrated — from something bearing down from outside, to something settling quietly in. The scale on my left hand still radiated a low heat, as though something had curled up beneath the skin. It didn't roar. Didn't strain. But even closing my fist now carried a faint, lingering sense of wrongness, as if the hand wasn't entirely mine anymore. …

Honestly, I still half-suspected I'd passed out somewhere along the way. If someone told me right now that the Dragon Kings' stares, Pangu with his teacup, and that ball of light dissolving into my hand had all been some hypoxia-fueled hallucination, I'd give the theory serious consideration. Unfortunately, the heat in my hand was too honest. So was the lingering sensation in my chest — of having been seen, catalogued, and quietly marked by something too vast to properly measure.

Pangu had already stopped paying attention to me, settled back against the stone with the clear energy of a man who wanted his visitor gone so he could return to doing nothing. Aeternitas stood off to the side, saying nothing, looking as though she'd only ever been here to confirm nothing had gone wrong, and now that it hadn't, she was ready to collect her problem and leave.

"Let's go," she said, flat. No congratulations. No commentary. Not even a basic "looks like you didn't die." …Very on-brand. Very draconic. I nodded and moved to follow — and my knee chose that exact moment to buckle.

"—Tch." Not a dramatic collapse. More like my body, having held itself together on sheer stubbornness until the crisis was technically over, had just gotten around to registering exactly how absurd a thing I'd been handed. Aeternitas stopped and glanced back. Her look wasn't warm — closer to professional — but at least there was no mockery in it.

"Staying upright after your first contact with the Dragon Soul is already better than most manage," she said.

"… Thank you. That assessment is doing absolutely nothing for my peace of mind." She turned away as if she hadn't heard the second half of that sentence. I dragged my slightly floating body after her. The return passage was no different from the one we'd descended. Still narrow, still quiet, like a corridor built from ground moonlight. The same ancient reliefs lined the walls, so still it was easy to imagine they might open their eyes the second you looked away.

Still cold, in the way that suggested warmth had simply never belonged here. But I knew something had changed. Coming in, I'd been led toward a trial with no guaranteed way out. Going back, I had the stranger, harder-to-shake feeling that the corridor itself had learned my name. I glanced at my left hand. The scale's pattern was more defined than before, carrying a faint glow you'd miss if you weren't looking for it. Like a fire that hadn't gone out — only pulled itself inward.

"Stop staring at it." Aeternitas spoke without turning. I lowered my hand on reflex.

"…Sorry?"

"I'm not scolding you." Her tone stayed even.

"It's a warning. People who've just made contact with the Dragon Soul and become obsessed with measuring exactly how much they've changed tend to be driven mad by the uncertainty long before the change itself finishes." My mouth twitched.

"…You could have mentioned that earlier."

"You're hearing it before it becomes a problem." That did not sound like comfort no matter how I turned it over. After a few steps, I couldn't help asking: "So — is this thing going to make me not me?" Our footsteps echoed, overlapping, down the narrow passage. She was quiet for a while before answering.

"That depends on what kind of person you already were."

"…" Right. Profound. So profound I genuinely couldn't tell if that was a real answer or an elegant way of calling my question stupid.

"The Dragon Soul doesn't turn anyone into someone else," she went on, unhurried, like someone describing something she'd watched happen too many times to count.

"It simply makes it impossible to keep pretending you never made your choice." …That part, I understood. And understanding it made me not want to say anything back. The crack of light at the passage's end reappeared ahead — the pale glow of the outer chamber, bright enough after the deep dark to sting slightly. Aeternitas stopped just short of the threshold. She turned her head and looked at me.

"The girl outside hasn't moved since you went in." I blinked.

"…Ignicia?"

"Who else." A thread of almost inaudible irony touched her voice — the first I'd heard from her.

"She was never a patient child. Standing still and waiting this long is genuinely rare, for her." Something tightened, quick and quiet, under my ribs. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. It was an ordinary sentence. There was nothing remarkable about it.

And yet it put a picture in my mind without asking permission — her standing at the altar's edge, red hair, red eyes, hand resting near her blade, radiating the energy of someone ready to cut down anything that came too close, and never once stepping away. … That woman. Before I could think further, Aeternitas reached out and parted the invisible boundary once more. The next instant, I was back in the outer chamber. The cold remained. The altar remained. The grey stone and ancient carvings held their silence.

And Ignicia stood exactly where I'd left her. She truly hadn't moved. Nearly the same spot, nearly the same posture. But the instant my figure appeared, those crimson eyes — fixed, unblinking, on the depths of the altar — flared for one fractional second. Brief. Like a spark. But I saw it. The next instant she stamped it out herself, fast enough that it might have been my imagination. She looked at my face first. Then her gaze dropped to the back of my left hand. And stopped there.

For that short interval, the entire chamber went so quiet it felt like the air itself was holding its breath. I could feel exactly what her gaze was doing — not looking, but checking. Checking that I was alright. Checking that the thing had actually gone in. Checking I hadn't come back missing a limb, or with my sanity shattered, or transformed into some fire-breathing aberration, or in any other state that would justify her marching straight back in to have a very sharp conversation with Pangu.

What she actually said was:"… You took forever." I nearly choked.

"That's your opening line?"

"What else?" She lifted her chin, expression coldly, flawlessly composed.

"Should I have set off fireworks?" …There she is. That achingly familiar, thoroughly punchable tone — proof, if nothing else, that I'd made it back alive. I opened my mouth, fully intending to say you don't have to, but your expression a second ago looked exactly like someone about to kick this door down, and somehow what came out instead was:"My apologies for keeping Her Highness waiting." Her eyebrow climbed.

"Did your brain break in there?"

"No, I just think it's genuinely admirable that someone who looks ready to drag me back in for a retake actually stood here the entire time without moving an inch — that kind of dedicated denial deserves real respect—""Shut up." Clean. Immediate. But — unless I imagined it — the tips of her ears had gone very slightly warmer than usual. Only slightly. And if I dared point it out, she'd probably escort me straight back to the altar and ask Pangu to formally reconsider whether I deserved to keep breathing.

So I swallowed the rest of that sentence with great discipline. Aeternitas stood off to the side and said nothing. The silence, somehow, was worse than if she'd spoken. Ignicia seemed to remember her mother was still present. Her gaze snapped back from my hand, and her usual cool expression slid neatly back into place.

"Did it work?" Strictly businesslike. So businesslike it landed as the exact opposite of have you eaten. But I knew what she actually wanted to ask. Did you hold on? Did it hurt too much to stand? What did you see? Were their stares worse than you expected? Are you actually alright, or just upright? She'd folded all of that down. Left only the question that sounded the least like one. I raised my left hand, glanced at the faintly glowing scale, and exhaled.

"…More or less."

"What does 'more or less' mean?"

"It means the thing's inside me, I'm still here, and I haven't grown a tail or any extra horns. On balance, I'd call that a success." She stared at me for two full seconds. Then let out a breath. Very quiet. Quiet enough that if I hadn't been watching her closely, I'd have missed it entirely. But that was exactly why it felt real — like a thread pulled tight for far too long finally allowed to slacken, just slightly, somewhere no one was supposed to see.

The next instant she snapped back to her usual register, voice flat:"If you grow horns, I will consider burying you here."

"…Was that really necessary right after the sigh of relief?"

"I did not sigh in relief."

"You clearly just—""You imagined it." Her denial came instantly, without a flicker of hesitation. I looked at her and felt something rise in my chest — not amusement, but a quiet, unexpected warmth thawing something that had gone cold under the weight of dragon eyes and ancient stone. So I laughed. Just a little. She must have seen it, because her brow furrowed immediately.

"What."

"Nothing," I said.

"Just thinking it's pretty nice, being able to walk out of there." She went still for a beat. The expression lasted only a moment before she tucked it away, but in that instant something soft and very brief moved through her eyes. Not her usual sharp edge. Not the composure of a princess before her court. Something closer to the look of someone who's just confirmed, with their own eyes, that what they were afraid of losing came back — and hasn't quite had time to hide the relief.

Then she gave a short, dismissive sound.

"Don't talk like you were actually going to die. It's embarrassing." … Right. That was Ignicia's version of are you okay. Not "I was worried." But "you'd better be fine, or this gets very inconvenient." Not "I'm glad you're back." But "if you'd made me wait for nothing, I'd have finished you off myself." Entirely unreasonable. Entirely her. I was about to say as much when the scale on my hand pulsed again — not the heavy burn from before, something lighter, rhythmic. Once. Twice. Like something breathing.

Ignicia's gaze dropped immediately.

"Reacting?"

"Yeah… a little." I flexed my hand, released it, frowning.

"Doesn't hurt. More like — something in there is breathing." She went quiet, didn't answer right away. I looked up and found her expression stiller than before. Then she reached out. Not a large gesture — just naturally, without announcement, her fingers closing around my left wrist. Her hand was cool. The contact sent a small current through me, and I stiffened before I could stop it.

"Hold still," she said quietly. Less edge in her voice than usual. Just slightly. She lowered her eyes to the scale, her thumb brushing very lightly across the faintly glowing lines beside it. The touch was careful — meticulous, even, carrying a patience she almost never let herself show. I genuinely couldn't decide what to focus on — the warmth beneath the scale, or the fact that she was standing close enough now that I could hear her breathe. … Dangerous territory.

Half a step further and this got genuinely risky. Not that kind of risky. Just the kind where my heartbeat was going to surrender its dignity long before anything else happened.

"How is it?" I kept my voice as level as I could manage. She didn't answer at once. After two seconds: "…Stable." Then, as if only just realizing she was still holding my wrist, she let go — fast, not abrupt, but fast.

"At least you didn't break yourself." She looked away, voice sliding back into its familiar flat cool.

"Barely passing." I looked at my wrist where her fingers had been, then at her profile, deliberately angled away from me. Finally, because apparently I had no functioning survival instinct left:"Your Highness."

"What."

"Were you actually worried about me just now?" Her head turned back. Slowly. Those crimson eyes fixed on me, direct and unblinking — beautiful to the point of being dangerous.

"Cedric."

"…Present."

"If the first thing you do after receiving the Dragon Soul is push your luck to test exactly how much patience I have—" She took one step forward, her tone terrifyingly level.

"—then I don't mind showing you, right now, that your bones are nowhere near hard enough to afford that kind of attitude." I threw both hands up in immediate surrender.

"Understood. Retracted. I said absolutely nothing." She held the glare one beat longer, then turned away. Her red hair cut a clean, sharp arc through the chamber's cold white light.

"Let's go," she said.

"Stop standing around spacing out. In your current state, there's plenty waiting for us once we get back." I watched her walk, and found myself calling out before I'd quite decided to:"Ignicia." Her footsteps paused — barely anything at all. She didn't turn.

"Mm?" I looked at her straight, unyielding back and thought of what Aeternitas had said — that she hadn't moved a single step since I'd gone in. So I said, quietly:"… Thanks." Half a second of silence. Very short. But long enough for the word to actually land. Then she tossed back, cool as ever:"Don't flatter yourself. I simply didn't feel like going in to drag you out." She started walking again.

If you only heard that sentence, you'd probably think Her Highness was exactly as proud, difficult, and stubborn as ever — someone who'd carved caring about people is fatal directly into her bones. But I saw it. In the instant she turned, the tip of her ear, just visible through her red hair, was unmistakably redder than it had been a moment ago.