Chapter 1
The morning sunlight streamed through my curtains, golden and warm, nudging me awake. I groaned and rolled over, burying my face in the blankets.
“Five more minutes,” I muttered to myself, clutching onto sleep like it was my lifeline.
Well, five minutes turned into an hour—as usual(I just love sleep). Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed, yawning so wide it felt like time itself stretched out. Dressing up took the bare minimum of effort. Honestly, mornings and I have never been friends. And yes, I’m a prince, but don’t let that fool you. I have banned the maids from waking me up ages ago because, let’s face it, I’d just ignore them anyway.
When I finally reached the breakfast table, my sister Luna was already there. She sat with her usual calm air, sipping her coffee. Across from her stood Elsa, my ever-dutiful maid. Elsa was the picture of professionalism—back straight, expression neutral. She wore a charcoal-grey dress, paired with a crisp white apron and a silver brook engraved with the family crest(which was a staff supposedly made of ice, our family symbol)while her hair was styled in a low bun.
“Your breakfast is ready, Sir,” Elsa said, her tone polite as always.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, grabbing a piece of toast and biting into it. My mornings are all about slow starts and minimal talking.
“You’re welcome,” Elsa replied with a small smile. It was polite, but I think it was one of her signature fake smiles. Not that I blamed her. If I were in her shoes, serving someone who rolled out of bed whenever they pleased, I’d probably be annoyed too.
I’ve tried to be a morning person—honestly, I have. Alarms, schedules, pep talks from Luna... nothing works. I’m a night owl through and through. There’s something magical about the quiet stillness of the night. Of course, that means I’m pretty much a zombie every morning.
“You’re not even going to say good morning to me?” Luna’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I glanced at her and shrugged. “Morning, Sis,” I said around a mouthful of toast.
“Is that toast really more important than greeting your sister properly?” she teased, though her voice had a hint of playfulness. She even threw in an exaggerated pout for good measure.
“Can’t help it. Elsa’s cooking is too good to ignore,” I said, taking another bite.
Elsa gave a small bow. “I’m happy to hear that, Ron,” she said, correcting herself halfway. I’d told all the maids ages ago to just call me Ron. Hearing them call me “Master” felt way too weird, considering they worked harder than anyone in the palace.
“Well, well,” Luna said, smirking. “So you do have a shred of decency in you.”
I rolled my eyes, but her words stuck with me. I have always had these thoughts deep inside me about being a burden. I try to be kind to make up for it, but it never feels like enough. That’s not something I’d ever share with Luna, though—she’d just lecture me about overthinking and I guess would be a little worried about me.
“Anyway,” I said, shifting the topic. “I learned a new spell yesterday.”
Luna’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward slightly. “Really? What is it?”
Before I could answer, a sharp voice interrupted. “Probably another useless spell,” said my brother Darshill, strolling into the room like he owned the place. Which, being the golden child of the family, he practically did.
Darshill was the complete opposite of me—confident, talented, and annoyingly perfect. He developed his magic core at five and was already at the Expert Green stage. He also had a way with words that made people adore him. Oh, and he’s great at swordsmanship. Basically, he’s the poster boy for “future king.”
Don’t get me wrong; I don’t care about the throne. Leading people isn’t my thing. I’d rather keep to myself and avoid the drama. But Darshill has this way of rubbing his success in my face, like he’s trying to prove a point.
“Oh, Luna, you’re here!” Darshill said, sliding into the seat next to her. “Good morning, my beautiful little sister.”
“Morning,” Luna replied, her voice as cold as ever.Thats my real cold ruthless sister,cold as ice to anyone but then why she is so different to me?Am I that much irritating?
Darshill reached over and brushed a strand of her hair. “You look as stunning as always, my darling sister.”
Yep, he’s a full-blown siscon. I don’t even need to sugarcoat it.
I stood up, done with breakfast and with Darshill’s antics. “I’ll be at the courtyard, meeting Rave and Stride” I told Elsa.
“As you wish, Ron,” she said with a nod.
Before I could leave, Darshill called out, “Elsa, why don’t you join us? Such a lovely maid shouldn’t waste her time with someone like Ron.”
I didn’t bother responding. Silence is the best way to deal with him. As I left, I heard Elsa’s calm reply: “Master Darshill, I am assigned to Master Ron. My apologies, but I cannot join you.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Luna must have felt the same because I thought I saw her smirk before she stood up. “Ron, meet me in the library later. We’ll discuss that spell of yours.”
“Sure,” I said with a nod.
She left, with Darshill trailing behind her like a lost puppy. I sometimes envy how effortlessly he talks to people. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to avoid embarrassing myself half the time.
But I guess it doesn’t matter. At least I have Rave and Stride to hang out with. Time to escape this madness for a while
Oh who are Rave and Stride, they are dragons who are my friends.
Cool Right?
______
We follow the protagonist as he walks through the long corridors of the palace, hands tucked casually in his pockets. At first glance, he exudes an aura of someone easygoing and fun to be around. His messy hair seems to fall into place almost intentionally, and a faint, unintentional smile lingers on his lips. Mischief glints in his striking blue eyes, as if he’s perpetually searching for trouble.
This might have been an accurate portrayal of him once, but now, it’s a shadow of who he used to be. There’s an unmistakable detachment in his demeanor—a quiet indifference to the world around him. It’s as though he views everything with a sense of weariness, as if life itself has lost its charm. He holds no regard for material riches; to him, a can of beans is no different than a meal prepared by the most celebrated chef. His disposition is far from that of nobility, and he seems acutely aware of it. Whether this knowledge fills him with pride or guilt remains a mystery that lies beyond our reach.
The corridor opens into a spacious courtyard—an expanse of grass, untamed and untouched. These empty arenas are common in a world of magic, designed for activities that often lead to destruction. Be it duelling, sparring, or magic, such spaces ensure there’s room to unleash one’s full power without hesitation.
He halts at the edge of the grass. A gentle breeze stirs, tugging slightly at his shirt and ruffling his dishevelled hair. The perspective shifts as if the camera pans from behind him to a wider, frontal view. Standing there, Ron seems at peace, the wind stirring a quiet sense of belonging within him. He inhales deeply, letting out a faint sigh, relaxed and composed.
Slowly, he withdraws his hands from his pockets and lets out a whistle. The sound is sharp yet oddly melodic, bearing a rhythmic quality that hints at a signal being sent. Moments pass. The breeze grows stronger, picking up speed as though heralding the approach of something immense. The grass bows under the force of the wind, bending as if in submission. Shielding his eyes with one hand, Ron stands firm as two formidable creatures descend before him, their arrival marked by a sudden stillness in the air.
These are his dragons—Rave and Stride.
Dragons are known for their unyielding pride. It’s rare for such creatures to respond to a mere whistle, but these two appear, an undeniable sign of the bond they share with Ron. The smaller dragon, likely a female, steps closer and affectionately licks his face with her tongue, a gesture of pure, unrestrained fondness. The larger dragon remains steadfast in his position, like a soldier awaiting orders. Yet, there’s an undeniable hint of warmth in his expression—perhaps a smile, if dragons are capable of such things.
Dragons are familiar to most, yet describing them feels essential. These towering beasts stand nearly eight feet tall, though they pale in comparison to older dragons, some of which can be over a century old and far more colossal. Rave and Stride are almost the same age as Ron, but the story of how he found them remains shrouded in mystery—a tale for another time. Rave, the female dragon, lacks the hardened scales that signify maturity; her body is smooth and supple. Stride, on the other hand, bears the beginnings of scales, a sign of his steady growth into strength and resilience.
As you may have guessed, Ron is a beast tamer—a remarkable feat for someone so young. Yet, he remains indifferent to this title, viewing it as ordinary in a world teeming with beast tamers. This almost negative approach of life, almost self-deprecating might have stemmed from the loss of his father—or so it seems. The answers to such questions lie deep within Ron’s heart, a place we can only observe but never reach.
Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself. Who am I? Just an observer, much like you. I’ve been watching for a long time, my knowledge rooted in the past rather than the future. While you glimpse the present, I collect the echoes of what was. Don’t worry, I’m no omniscient being—I simply know a little more than most. Now, let’s shift perspective, diving into Ron’s point of view.
Rons Pov
Stride is unusually clingy today. Then again, I suppose it makes sense; it has been an entire day since I last saw her. I had sent them to the forest, to check on things, because the tournament is about to begin, so cannot have any problems.
A voice echoes in my mind, soft and full of affection.“I have missed you so much, Ron.”
Ah, right. These dragons don’t just roar and fly; they can communicate telepathically. Pretty cool, isn’t it?
I reach out to pat Stride’s head, conveying my response in thought rather than words.
“You’ve been a good girl.”
She leans into the touch, her smooth skin warming beneath my hand. Her reaction makes it clear she’s pleased with the acknowledgement.
Turning my attention to Rave, I ask,“Got any new info?”
His reply is short but reassuring.“Nope, all seems fine.”
I exhale quietly, relief settling over me.“Good. At least there are no external worries for now.”
With the immediate concerns behind us, I speak to both of them telepathically.“You can transform and get some rest.”
Without hesitation, they shift before my eyes, their massive forms shrinking down until they resemble tiny, playful pups—adorably miniature versions of their formidable selves. It’s always fascinating to watch this transformation, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. Dragons are undeniably incredible creatures.
Rave and Stride perch themselves on my shoulders, as they often do. Their combined weight presses down heavily; they’ve grown noticeably larger since the last time I carried them like this. My shoulders ache under the strain, but I can’t bring myself to complain. They’re family, after all, and their presence is comforting.
Now, where to next?
I take a moment to remember. Oh, right—my sister had told me to go to the library.
Off to the Library.
Author Note:
I hope you guys like this new series.Its first time I am posting here,as I have grown way too much tired of posting on wattpad and not getting any atten
Also about mana system,I will give more information later on but for now,I am giving the stages to mana core.They are divided by colours.
Black(Mana core still has not delivered)
White(First time Mana core gets activated,child can start using magic)
Violet
Blue
Green
Yellow
Orange
Pink
Red
After White there,are these stages which are divided into beginner ,intermediate and expert.
The higher, the stage the more developed your core is.So more mana you can store,more spells you can cast,stuff like that.
Green and Yellow stages are intermediate stages.
Orange is advanced.
Pink is extremely advanced
and Red is almost the peak but there’s more( :)Read the next chapters for more info)
