The warmth of Primara…the laughter. The color. Her chest's lightness shattered completely. Like glass cracking beneath unseen pressure. Starfania didn't feel her feet anymore. Didn't hear Violet's voice. Didn't see the market. Because something else had taken hold. The world shifted. The vibrant greens of Primara drained into ash. A heavy, suffocating gray settled over the open sky. The scent of flowers—replaced by smoke. Iron. And something far worse. She was no longer walking. She was standing. Frozen. Before her…a dragon. Not the kind she had seen flying freely above Primara. Not the kind that played, or rested, or lived.
This one…was breaking. Its massive body trembled violently, legs buckling beneath its own weight. The scales, which had once been radiant and proud, were now lifeless, as if their very essence had been drained. Its wings hung uselessly at its sides. Heavy. Forgotten. A ragged, broken sound escaped its throat. Not a roar. No power. But pain. Starfania's breath caught. Her chest tightened so sharply that it hurt.
" No…" she whispered, her voice trembling. The dragon tried to stand straighter—tried to hold on to what little strength it had left—but its body betrayed it. Shaking. Failing. And around it…Guards. Watching. Waiting. Some of them smiled.
" Look at it," one muttered, almost in awe. " It's working…"
Another let out a low chuckle. " Not even the strongest can withstand it."
Starfania's stomach turned. Her fingers curled into fists. It wasn't solely about control. This wasn't fear. This was—cruelty. Then—she felt it. A presence. Heavy. Familiar. Slowly—she looked up. And there he was. Cesar. Standing high above on a grand stone balcony, cloaked in shadow. His black dragon armor gleamed faintly under the dim light, sharp and unforgiving. He didn't move. Didn't speak. He simply watched. Observed the suffering. Watched the experiment. Watched the result. Below him—cheers erupted.
" At last!" one guard shouted. " We've done it!"
" Even the mightiest dragon will fall before us!"
Laughter. Pride. Victory.
But Cesar…remained silent. Starfania searched his face desperately. For anything. Regret. Hesitation. Pain. Something. Anything.
" Father…" she whispered. But her voice didn't exist here. She couldn't reach him. And he didn't look away. Not immediately. For a moment—his eyes lingered on the dragon. Something unreadable flickered beneath the surface. Then—it was gone. He turned. Without a word. Without hesitation. And walked away. Leaving the dragon behind. Leaving her behind. Darkness swallowed everything.
And then—another shift. The world reformed around her. Sharper this time. Focused. A war room. A map stretched across a wooden table, illuminated by flickering candlelight. Shadows danced across stone walls as armored figures gathered close—each one clad in black, their presence heavy with anticipation. At the center—Cesar. His posture is rigid. His expression is carved from stone. In his hand—a silver dagger. Silence stretched. Tight. Unforgiving. Then—SLAM. The blade drove into the table with force. The sound cracked through the room like thunder. Starfania flinched.
" This is our moment," Cear declared. His voice was steady. Cold. Unshaken. " We reshape the world now."
The warriors leaned in. Listening. Waiting.
" To crush our enemies," he continued, " and claim what is rightfully ours."
A quiet ripple moved through the room. Armor shifted. Glances exchanged. Silent agreements forming. Starfania's heart pounded. This wasn't grief anymore. This wasn't just pain. This was something else. Something darker.
" Are we prepared?" One warrior asked. All eyes turned back to him. Cesar paused. Just for a moment. His gaze softened—barely. Like something human tried to surface. Then—it hardened again.
" Prepared enough," he said. " Preparation is never complete."
A breath. Heavy. Final. " …but it is time to strike."
The room seemed to close in. The air thickened. And Starfania—could only stand there. Watching. Realizing. This wasn't just war. This was something her father had chosen. And whatever part of him she still held onto—whatever warmth remained in her memories—it was slipping further away. Replaced by a man she barely recognized. A man willing to burn the world…just to silence his own grief.