For a few heartbeats after the dragon vanished, the world forgot how to breathe.
The vast colosseum stood frozen—tens of thousands of people locked in stunned silence, eyes fixed on the two figures at the center of the arena. The cheers had died mid-roar, panic and awe tangled together in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Aster felt it first.
A deep, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading outward through his veins. It wasn't mana—not entirely. It was denser. Older. Like something that had been sleeping inside him had finally been recognized.
"Astra…" he whispered.
She swayed beside him.
"I feel… strange," she murmured, her voice distant, unfocused. "Like my body isn't mine anymore."
Before either of them could react—
The light returned.
It erupted from their bodies without warning, a radiant white glow so brilliant it forced people in the front rows to shield their eyes. Mana detectors flared wildly. Barrier runes screamed under the sudden pressure.
The ground beneath the twins cracked—not violently, but as if it were gently releasing them.
Slowly—
They began to rise.
Gasps tore through the stadium.
"They're—!"
"They're floating!"
Aster's feet lifted from the stone floor, his body pulled upward by an unseen force. Astra rose beside him, her fingers brushing his sleeve before drifting apart. Their eyes slipped shut at the same time, expressions peaceful, unaware.
White light streamed from their backs.
Then—
It took shape.
From Aster's shoulders, something unfurled—brilliant, translucent wings formed of pure light, each feather etched with faint, shifting runes. They spread wide, majestic and impossible, filling the air behind him.
A heartbeat later, Astra's wings blossomed as well—slightly smaller, more delicate, but no less radiant.
Twin wings.
Twin miracles.
The crowd erupted.
"It's real!"
"They're blessed!"
"That wasn't an illusion—!"
Parents dropped to their knees.
Scholars stared, mouths open, minds breaking under the weight of what they were witnessing.
Even hardened nobles stood frozen, pride stripped bare by awe.
High above, the lingering resonance of the Guardian Dragon pulsed once more—soft, approving, unseen.
The light intensified.
A dome of brilliance expanded outward from the twins, washing over the stadium like a tide.
And then—
The miracle began.
A man in the lower stands cried out as pain vanished from his leg—an injury he'd carried for years dissolving in an instant.
A child who had scraped her knee earlier gasped as the blood faded, skin smoothing as if nothing had happened.
An elderly woman clutched her chest, then sobbed as breath returned freely to her lungs.
All across the stadium—
Sickness vanished.
Old wounds closed.
Aches, scars, fractures, fatigue—gone.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
Simply… healed.
The white light did not discriminate.
It touched everyone.
By the time it faded, there was no doubt left in anyone's heart.
This was not advanced magic.
This was not clever illusion.
This was a miracle.
A real dragon had come.
And its blessing had not been symbolic.
It had been absolute.
At the center of the arena, the wings of light trembled.
Then dissolved.
Aster and Astra's bodies slackened, the glow fading rapidly as gravity reclaimed them.
They fell.
Gasps turned to screams.
Before they could hit the ground, a surge of wind magic caught them—Eleanor Elfantte, standing frozen moments ago, had reacted on instinct, lowering them gently onto the stone.
The twins lay still.
Unconscious.
The stadium was silent once more.
Then chaos erupted.
"Healers!"
"Clear the arena!"
"Protect the twins!"
Guards flooded in. Professors rushed forward. Healers knelt beside Aster and Astra, magic flaring as they checked pulses, mana flow, breathing.
"They're alive!"
"They're stable—but exhausted beyond measure!"
In the special stands, Arlienne had gone pale.
The moment the twins collapsed, she was already moving.
She didn't wait for permission.
Didn't wait for protocol.
She ran.
Ignoring nobles, guards, and stunned officials, she pushed through the opening barriers, skirts gathered in her hands, heart hammering painfully in her chest.
"Aster—Astra!"
She dropped to her knees beside them, hands trembling as she brushed hair from their faces.
"They're breathing," a healer said quickly. "Lady Snowflake, please—"
Arlienne didn't hear him.
She took her children's hands.
And saw the marks.
The dragon sigils glowed faintly, pulsing in time with their hearts.
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
"…You idiots," she whispered, voice breaking. "You always push too far…"
But she smiled through the tears.
Because they were alive.
The principal arrived moments later, face grave but controlled.
"They must be taken to the hospital immediately," Thalorien said. "No questions. No delays."
The king stood in the stands, expression unreadable.
The queen had not spoken once.
As healers prepared the transport carriage, the crowd parted instinctively—no longer curious, no longer demanding answers.
They watched in reverent silence.
Aster and Astra were placed carefully inside, Arlienne climbing in after them without hesitation.
As the carriage doors closed and the wheels began to turn, a single thought echoed through the minds of everyone present.
The Snowflakes were no longer just singers.
They were no longer just prodigies.
They were something else now.
Something that would reshape the kingdom.
And somewhere deep within the capital—
The dragon watched.
And waited.
***********************************
The Kingdom Founding Festival ended in a way no one had ever imagined.
There was no final ceremony.
No closing speech.
No fireworks to mark the night.
Instead, the festival ended in stunned silence, broken only by hurried footsteps, whispered prayers, and the low rumble of rumors spreading faster than any official announcement ever could.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the academy stadium was already being spoken of as sacred ground.
People left quietly.
Some clutched healed limbs as if afraid the miracle might fade if they looked away. Others walked in dazed silence, minds replaying the image of wings made of light, of a dragon that legends said did not exist.
No one argued anymore.
The Guardian Dragon was real.
And it had chosen the Snowflakes.
Because of everything that had happened, there was no announcement that day.
No reveal of the Snowflakes headphones.
No explanation of their newest invention.
Aster never even had the chance to step forward again.
By the time the healers had stabilized him and Astra, the stadium was already being cleared under royal order. Guards ushered people away gently but firmly, and the officials decided—unanimously—that nothing further would happen that day.
The world had already been shaken enough.
◆ ◆ ◆
Night had fallen by the time Aster finally opened his eyes.
At first, he thought he was dreaming.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—white stone etched with gentle healing runes that glowed softly like distant stars. The air smelled faintly of herbs and clean linen.
His body felt… light.
Too light.
"…Aster?"
The voice trembled.
Before he could turn his head, warm arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly enough that it almost hurt.
"Thank the gods…" Arlienne whispered, her voice breaking. "You scared me half to death."
Aster blinked slowly, consciousness settling in.
"…Mom?"
She laughed shakily and hugged him again, pressing her forehead to his.
"Are you all right?" she asked quickly. "Does anything hurt? Can you breathe properly?"
Aster moved his fingers experimentally.
Then his toes.
Then he sat up slightly—and stopped.
"…I feel," he said slowly, "…really good."
Arlienne froze. "Good?"
"Like," he searched for the words, "like I slept for years and woke up new."
A voice from the neighboring bed answered softly.
"I feel the same."
Aster turned his head.
Astra was awake too.
She was sitting up, silver eyes clear and bright, her expression filled with quiet wonder rather than fear.
"You're awake," Aster said.
She smiled. "So are you."
Arlienne covered her mouth, tears spilling freely now as she pulled Astra into the embrace as well.
"You two…" she sobbed softly. "You don't know what you did to my heart."
After a few moments, she forced herself to calm down.
"…Do you remember anything?" she asked carefully. "After the song ended?"
Aster frowned slightly.
"I remember the music fading," he said. "Then I felt something… warm. Old, And I think I saw a big Dragon. And then I don't remember anything after that."
Astra nodded. "Same. I also don't remember anything after that."
Arlienne took a slow breath.
"Then I'll tell you," she said.
And she did.
She told them about the dragon fully revealing itself.
About the light.
About the marks on their hands.
About the wings.
About the healing that swept through the entire stadium.
As she spoke, both twins stared at their hands.
The marks were still there.
Faint, but unmistakable.
"…So it wasn't a dream," Astra whispered.
"No," Arlienne replied softly. "It was very real."
Aster leaned back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
"…I didn't get to announce the headphones," he muttered.
Arlienne blinked, then let out a small, incredulous laugh through her tears.
"That's what you're worried about?"
Aster sighed. "I worked really hard on that."
Astra nudged him weakly. "You can announce it later, idiot."
"…Yeah," Aster admitted quietly.
He closed his eyes.
Something far greater had happened.
Something that no invention—no matter how revolutionary—could compare to.
The dragon.
The blessing.
The feeling in his body even now—mana flowing deeper, wider, as if his limits had been quietly rewritten.
Was that dragon… connected to her?
His thoughts drifted to the hazy figure he had once seen in his mind realm—the goddess who had asked him about his wish, who had told him to use sound magic for more than singing.
Is this part of it?* he wondered.
A continuation?
When the doctors finally allowed them to leave, the Snowflakes returned home under heavy guard and secrecy. The capital was restless, but no official statements were released.
That night, Snowflake Mansion felt different.
Quieter.
Heavier.
As if the walls themselves knew something had changed.
◆ ◆ ◆
At the royal palace, there was no peace.
The First Prince and also the nation's crown prince stood alone in his chamber, staring out at the city lights far below.
His reflection in the glass looked unfamiliar to him.
Uneasy.
Shaken.
For years, he had watched the Snowflakes from a distance—calculating, wary, always measuring how their growing popularity with the people might one day threaten his position.
They're singers, he had told himself.
Entertainers.
Not rulers.
But today had shattered that illusion.
People did not kneel for entertainers.
They knelt for miracles.
And he had seen it.
He clenched his fists.
They were blessed.
Not metaphorically.
Not politically.
But by the same Guardian Dragon that legend claimed had chosen the first king of Wynfall.
If that was true—
Then what did that make them?
His mind raced.
If the people believed the twins were chosen…
If the nobles began to whisper…
If the clergy caught wind of this…
The throne would no longer be secure simply because he was firstborn.
Fear crept into his chest, cold and sharp.
He had already been distant toward them.
Cold.
Now that distance felt like a mistake.
What do I do? he thought desperately.
If he opposed them openly, he would look like a fool.
If he ignored them, he might be swept aside.
And if they truly carried the same blessing as the founding emperor—
Then the future of the kingdom itself was no longer guaranteed to follow the path he had been preparing for his entire life.
The First Prince turned away from the window.
"…I have to do something," he whispered.
What that something was—
He didn't yet know.
But one thing was clear.
The Snowflakes were no longer just part of the story.
They were becoming its center.