The corpse of the Dragon was dragged into the main courtyard of Velathor. The silence, then the explosion of voices. Dozens of disciples, Masters, soldiers, all massaged, stared at the smoldering carcass. Some paled. Others fell to their knees.
I only saw two silhouettes that advanced through the crowd.
Simon and Helena.
They walked side by side, their steps calm imposing silence on their path. The looks turned away, the breaths cut each other. Simon, as always, seemed to carry the world with a single hand gesture. Helena, in her dark outfit, had that stormy look that breaks certainties.
They stopped before us.
Pedro, always panting, had the nerve to smile. Bruno, straight despite his wounds, lowered his head as a sign of respect. Me, I remained immobile, my legs trembling, the black blood still stuck to my face.
Simon stared at me with more attention. His eyes, usually as cold as a polished blade, softened with a nuance. Minimal. But real.
— Well... You made it small. Congratulations.
He placed his hand on my shoulder. The pressure of his fingers was heavy, he did not try to crush me, rather he showed his support.
— You proved that you could stand up to a young myth. Few can boast about it, believe me.
Pedro surprised us by mentioning my new ability.
—And guess what this spectre is flying, do you believe it?!!
Helena approached in turn. Her gaze swept away my wounds, my burnt arms. She breathed in slightly, then said:
— Can you fly...?
The word fell like an axe. The crowd behind us murmured. Dozens of voices were already whispering, jostling each other: "He flies?" – « For how many centuries has no one... apart from Iz..." – "Not since the era of the first Gods... and this sataned...»
Helena did not look away.
— It's not nothing, you are the first to wear this sign in a long time. That makes you an almost unique being. A potential. But don't get me wrong, Iron. It's just a sign. Not an end. The path is still long.
I lowered my head, a new weight on my shoulders but I was happy with what I had accomplished.
Simon concludes, his voice cutting through the tumult of murmurs:
— The Patriarch is waiting for you.
The main hall of the estate was full. Torches ran along the columns, casting living shadows. Albus Vongold sat, imposing on his bare stone seat. No ornaments. No pomp. His mere presence was enough to fill the room.
We were taken to the center. Pedro, Bruno, and I, still covered in blood and ashes. The corpse of the Dragon had been exposed outside, visible to all.
Albus looked at us. No, not us. Me. It was the second time I had seen him in person since my arrival, he wore a very classy outfit, his hair and gray beard a presence and a stifling aura emanated from this man not this demigod.
His gaze pinned me to the ground.
— Iron...
My name vibrated like a sentence. My head tilted slightly.
— You faced a thing that many believed invincible. You brought its carcass to our gates. And you revealed, in front of everyone, a sign forgotten for generations. "Flight".
The silence was total.
He got up. Slowly. And the air bent.
— You survived. You broke fear. And you are capable enough to enter 'Aurora' the academy that will finalize your apprenticeship with the heirs of other Great Houses. So for all these reasons, I grant you what you never had: a name within our family.
He raised his hand.
— Starting today, you will be known in the eyes of your peers and the world as: "Iron Vongold".
The word burned in my chest like a hot iron. The first one walks. But also a debt.
Pedro displayed his arrogant smile on the lips. Bruno tilted his head, impassive. I contented myself with standing, my eyes fixed on the Patriarch.
Albus added, his voice falling like a final judgment:
— Don't forget. Your name won't protect you there. It won't be enough. But that family you see there will be your home, your home. Task to honor us.
At night, a banquet was held in the large rooms. The tables were overflowing with exquisite dishes, the glasses of wine flowed. Laughter erupted, songs rose. The Dragon's carcass was visible from the terraces, illuminated like a trophy.
I saw Velathor laughing together. Warriors and warriors who tapped each other on the back, children running between the guests, elders telling about the triumphs of yesteryear.
Pedro, installed on my left, kept provoking the other members, he had drunk too much and was already drunk...
— You saw, huh? he said while swinging his chain on the table. Our brother a defeated one a dragon puter. The young calamity "Calamyria"! And you, how long have you been touching the ancestors HAHAHA?!!
Laughter broke out, some tense, others sincere. Pedro didn't care. He continued...
— Be careful. One day he will fly so high that he will piss on you without even paying you any interest... Iron the flying pisser!!!!
The table burst into laughter.
Bruno, he, remained still for a long moment. Then, suddenly, his lips moved apart. A laugh. Serious. Deep. True. I turned around, surprised. It was the first time I saw Bruno laugh.
I couldn't help but smile.
And yet...
As the cuts clashed, the songs echoed, the family vibrated like one body, I felt a crack in me.
An inner voice.
A doubt.
I looked at Simon, apart, his discreet smile. Helena, further away, a glass in hand, her gaze resting on me with a nuance that I had never seen. Respect.
They were the ones who had forged me, those who had raised me up. The only family that never recognized me.
But a thought crossed me, relentless:
These laughs... These faces... These hands that saved me... One day maybe, I would lose them. One day, they will come to take them from me. Because the world is too cruel to give way to endless happiness...
I lowered my eyes. My fingers clenched on my cup.
The party was in full swing. But in my chest, silence returned.
The room was still ringing with singing and laughter when I left the table. No one paid attention. Everyone was too busy drinking, feasting, bragging about that Dragon we had laid down.
I walked through the corridors of Velathor alone. The walls vibrated with the tumult of the party, but here, the air was calm. The light flickered, casting my shadow against the stone.
I stopped in front of an open bay. The night spread, vast, indifferent. The corpse of the Dragon lay in the distance, illuminated by torches, immense and broken silhouette.
I placed my hand against the cold stone. My reflection in the glass reminded me of my eyes, becoming different. I was no longer the specter of my old life. More the boy on his knees in the Enduriel Room. But was I ready to carry this weight, my future battles, my future exploits?
Behind me, the laughter continued. Pedro, surely provoking the elders. Bruno, laughing for the first time since I knew him. Simon and Helena, somewhere in the crowd, proud but silent.
I closed my eyes. I already felt my thorn move, like an impatient beast. A faceless voice murmured:
Becomes even stronger...
I blew, almost out loud:
— I need to get even stronger.
Two weeks later
The tumult of the banquet was nothing more than a memory. Velathor had resumed his rhythm: training, missions, vigils. The corpse of the Dragon had been completely dismantled. His preserved bones, his melted scales, his head fixed in the great hall like a silent trophy.
Me, I had spent my days readjusting to my body. To this new power. The thorn. My blades responded faster, sharper. The flight... him, remained unpredictable. I had tempted him several times in the arena, but each attempt was a terrible fiasco. This power was not yet mine.
The departure was approaching. Two weeks.
One evening, Pedro and Bruno took me aside. We were in the training yard at dusk. The sky was blazing, the chains of the Castrum were tinkling softly in the wind.
Pedro turned his chain, as always, then let it slap against the ground. His gaze, for once, was serious.
— Listen, spectre. You need to know that Aurora is not Velathor. Over there it's war, no one will applaud you for having survived a Dragon. No one gives a damn about your thorn and what it can do, about your trials, about your scars. They are just bullied heirs. They will test you, provoke you, want to break you.
He spat on the ground, continued:
— And believe me, they know how to break.
Bruno crossed his arms, his massive shadow extending behind him.
— You'll feel like you're back to square one. A stranger. An intruder. But that's nothing, you're a Vongold now. You hold, you do not bend, so even those who hate you will have to respect you.
I nodded. My stomach tightened.
Pedro leaned in, his smile returning, but more bitter.
— There's something you need to understand, Iron. Over there, everyone has a name too. You, you are certainly now a Vongold but who has not grown up since childhood in our customs. The spectre of Velathor. It will drive them crazy. They will despise you just for that. But...
He grabbed me by the neck, his forehead almost against mine.
— You stole the hell out. And we don't know yet what your other faculties are, none of them will be able to erase it... Never...
Bruno placed his hand on my shoulder.
— Remember that, he said. Even when you are alone. We will not be far either we will stand at Aurora but we will have to fight our own wars.
Their words became rooted in me.
That night, I did not find sleep. I was only sitting in my room, the silk sails filtering the moonlight. On the table, a fragment of black scale, remnant of the Dragon. I stared at it for a long time.
Soon, I was going to leave Velathor. Leave Simon, Helena, Albus. Soon, I would be plunged into an ocean of names, lineages, rivals in a silent war.
Aurora...
I closed my eyes. My hand clenched. The thorn vibrated in my chest.
I wasn't ready yet. But I never had the luxury of it anyway.