The horizon was streaked with a pale pink-silver line as dawn broke — a sign that a new day was beginning. The dormitory was still silent; most were still asleep. But Noa was already awake, sitting on the edge of his bed.
He stood up, took a deep breath of the cold air, and stepped outside.
The courtyard was empty. The ground was damp, and the wind blew sharp as a knife. Noa stretched his arms, his muscles tensing and then relaxing. Every strike he threw into the air was precise and controlled — this was not training for battle, but for survival.
His fists sliced through the cold air, breaking the silence.
By the time the others woke up, whispers had already begun to spread. Some laughed, others mocked. Noa paid them no attention. As always.
When training partners were chosen, only one person stepped forward to face him — the boy who had mocked him the most. The boy attacked with sharp confidence. But Noa moved lightly, letting the blows cut through empty air, and responded with small, precise strikes: to the wrist, the knee, the ribs. Each one seemed insignificant on its own, but together — they were enough.
The boy staggered and fell into the snow.
"Winner: Noa," the officer announced.
Silence fell. No one was laughing anymore. Only eyes full of astonishment remained: How did he do it?
Noa walked away calmly.
That same evening, in the library, he studied the lines of an ancient manuscript.
"Every body has its weak points," it read.
When he returned to his room, Liliya was standing by the window — her bright red wings glowing softly in the faint light.
"They mocked you again," she said quietly. "But in the end… they fell silent."
Noa turned his face away.
"It's temporary. They'll start again."
"Maybe," Liliya said with a smile. "But you're no longer that old Noa. I can see it."
She spread her wings — the room brightened for a moment — then flew off silently into the night.
Noa clenched his fists. Alone.
As the darkness deepened, he lay down. Black mist rose from the seal on his hand and slowly dissolved into the air.
"What is this? And where is it taking me?"
He slowly closed his eyes.
And in the night, within the silence, only one truth remained:
There is no turning back now.
Noa's daily life passed like this.
Dawn. He was always the first to wake. He ran, strengthened his body, and struck the air.
Morning meal. His breakfast was simple — stale bread, diluted broth… and rat meat.
Evening. He returned to his lonely shadow.
One punch. Ten. A hundred. A thousand. Repeated over and over.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Noa looked up at the sky.
It began to snow.
Noa stretched his hand forward, turning his palm toward the sky. Several snowflakes fell onto his palm and melted into water.
Noa turned and headed back to the dormitory.
At night, moonlight and starlight streamed through the window, filling the room with a silvery half-glow. The wind rustled the curtains.
As Noa rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, a voice broke the silence:
"Brother…"
He slowly raised his head. Liliya stood by the window, her wings faintly glowing and trembling. Her face was filled with sorrow, and unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
Noa got up, his voice sharp:
"How many more times do I have to hear those words?"
Liliya's lips trembled, her voice quivering:
"Brother… something terrible has happened."
A shadow of doubt crossed Noa's face.
"What does this have to do with me?"
Liliya took a deep breath, looking down, her hands shaking as if trying to stop herself. Her voice was heavy with fear and pain:
"The empire has been restless for the past five months. The nobles are trying to strengthen their positions and… rumors have spread: the Emperor and Empress have disappeared."
Noa replied calmly:
"Father and Mother are not weak enough to simply disappear. They must have gone somewhere."
"Yesterday… their bodies were found," Liliya said, pressing her hand against the wall.
Noa's heart froze. His voice filled with rage as he grabbed Liliya by the throat:
"What did you say?"
Liliya lowered her head, her breath catching:
"They… are dead."
Silence.
It felt as if the world had stopped — the wind, the moonlight and starlight, even time itself seemed frozen.
Noa's eyes widened, his fists clenched, veins bulging, breath caught in his throat. In his ears, only one sentence echoed: They are dead… they are dead…
Noa raised his fist to strike Liliya — then suddenly stopped.
He slammed his fists into the floor instead. The wooden planks cracked.
"No!!!"
Memories of his parents flashed before Noa's eyes.
He struck again. And again. With every blow.
Noa screamed at the top of his lungs:
"Why?! Why now?! Why them?!"
His cries echoed between the narrow walls. Liliya wept, unable to approach him.
Noa pressed his face into his palms, resting his forehead on the floor. His shoulders trembled, his voice choked, and tears fell onto the floor.
The night continued, but Noa did not stop. His fists bled, his knees bruised, his breath ragged.
Tears and blood mixed on his face, glittering in an eerily beautiful way under the moonlight and starlight.
His body was exhausted, but the pain inside him remained. He stayed like this until dawn — forehead pressed to the floor.
Liliya held him in her arms. She had never seen Noa so broken, so destroyed.
Dawn broke. Once again, a silver line appeared on the horizon. Soldiers stood in formation, discipline heavy in the air.
Zobid inspected the ranks. But the young man who always stood in the front row was missing.
"Where is Noa?" he demanded sharply.
The soldiers glanced at each other and whispered. No one answered.
Finally, one lowered his head and said:
"Commander… he never misses formation. But today…"
Suspicion grew in Zobid's eyes.
"You — go and check his room."
One soldier stepped forward.
"Understood, Commander."
He reached the building. The walls were crumbling, the windows covered in dust, the doors crooked.
"This is where he lives. A place fit for a prince, isn't it?"
"Yes… the last residence of royalty," the soldier muttered with a sigh as he entered.
He stepped inside. The dark corridor smelled damp and cold. There were six rooms on each side.
"Which room is his?"
They opened the doors one by one. Every room was empty, dusty, abandoned.
The first soldier reached for the next door handle and slowly pushed. The door creaked open…
He froze. His eyes widened, his face turned pale, his lips trembled. His heart turned to ice.