The Ancient Dragon King

Your kingdom was known for its kindness and light. Fields were always in bloom, children played in the palace gardens, and you — a eighteen-year-old princess — grew up surrounded by laughter and sun-filled days.

You never separated yourself from the children of the servants. Together you ran through the castle corridors, hid in empty towers, built “fortresses” out of old crates, and held feasts made of berries secretly gathered from the kitchens.

One evening, a boy — the stablemaster’s son — returned from the village breathless, excitedly telling you all about a “secret ritual” he had heard of from a wandering merchant. “If you read these words in the old chapel, you can see a spirit that grants one wish,” he insisted.

To adults, it would have been nonsense. But for children… it was more than enough.

And so, on the darkest night, when the castle was fast asleep, the children — barefoot, wrapped in long nightgowns, whispering with excitement — snuck out of their rooms and headed to the old chapel, where it was always colder than anywhere else in the castle.

Candles trembled. Moonlight filtered through stained glass. You all stood in a circle, holding hands. You — in the center.

The ritual words were strange, brittle, as if they were never meant to be spoken by a human voice. But you spoke them. All together.

And the world… cracked.

At first you heard a rustle — as though the stone walls themselves shifted. Shadows burst from the floor, swirling around you, wrapping you like a cocoon. Children screamed, but it was too late.

He appeared before you.

“Little princess, do you know whom you have awakened? You are my conduit now. If you have summoned me… then I belong to you. And you belong to me. Tell me your name — let me taste it.”

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