CHAPTER 1
Long ago, dragons walked the human realm. One such dragon, named Mitre, rose from chaos to become the continent’s first king.
Over time, the continent split into two nations:
Astolia Empire, vast and desert-kissed
Rivendell Kingdom, small but blessed with verdant nature
Between them lay an island—Bersilia—where the dragon descendants, the Jewel Clan, lived in peace.
Years later, Astolia’s soldiers invaded Bersilia, razing it to the ground. Even the Jewel Clan’s magic users were helpless before the empire’s forces. Only one girl survived that night.
A knight from Rivendell discovered her and took her back to the kingdom. Filled with vengeance, she resolved to kill the emperor responsible. Without magical powers, she chose to become a knight of Rivendell.
“What is this foolishness?” the stern instructor demanded, cold as ice, upon seeing the papers Sia presented.
Startled, Sia regained her composure:
“I sat for the knight entrance exam—and I passed. I’m no longer a candidate; I’m a knight.”
He retorted, “I never cleared you. Did you cheat behind my back?”
This instructor was none other than Gilead Rygles, Sia’s protector and teacher. Years ago, he’d saved her from the empire’s attack on the Jewel Clan—becoming her savior, guardian, and mentor.
She endured his scorn in hopes that becoming a knight would mean her first step toward revenge. But now, he’d crushed that hope.
“Without my recommendation, even the greatest warrior can’t enter,” he declared, explaining his refusal. She pleaded, exhausted—but then came a royal command from Prince Ulyssus. She took the exam, passed, and proudly held her certificate.
Yet Gilead sneered, “You think you’ll succeed in revenge? You’d be better off marrying some rich old man.”
At that, Sia’s heart snapped.
She, usually cold as ice, was stunned at his words. In one sudden swipe—slap!—her cheek stung as he tossed a portrait of the elderly noble to her feet.
“Look closely, Ermodian. That’s my answer. Even if they knife my throat, I won’t help you.”
He tore the prince’s certificate to shreds before her eyes. The shock was unreal, like a dream. But it was all too real. Vague memories followed of their harsh exchange—her berating him, him shouting back.
She joined Prince Ulyssus’s knight order and buried her loneliness, focusing solely on revenge, hoping one day her blade would rest on the emperor’s throat—and serve her old mentor a surprise humiliation.
Five years later, they reunited—not on a battlefield, but in a cold dungeon beneath the royal palace.
Sia lay barely conscious, broken by torture. The dungeon was pitch black, her strength gone. Suddenly, the heavy door burst open and a tall man rushed in.
“Lieutenant…” she whispered in disbelief.
“Get up,” he commanded. Gilead helped her stand, guiding her past corpses of guards and pools of blood.
“Why…” she stammered.
“No time,” he said.
He led her up narrow stairs into a snow-laden courtyard. He sped a prepared horse, putting her on it before mounting himself.
“They found us!”
A bow twanged, and Gilead kicked the horse forward. He steered into the forest behind the palace, but enemies pursued.
Amid pounding hooves, their horse suddenly stumbled—pierced by an arrow. They crashed into the snow. As Sia lay there, a soldier stabbed wildly toward her.
“Die, you traitor!”
A warmth splashed on her cheeks—and she realized it was Gilead’s blood. He’d stepped in front to shield her, blocking the blow.
He drew the blade from his chest:
“Go—now,” he rasped. He staggered and collapsed. Sia caught him, pressing him to her lap.
Blood soaked his tunic and the snow beneath them. He coughed violently. Sia, trembling, sobbed,
“Why… did you do this?”
Gilead opened his golden eyes—still shining despite the pain. Two moons gleamed in their depths, waking long-buried memories within her.
“Please… answer me… Instructor!”
He smiled weakly as the shadows claimed his vision. He whispered,
“From the moment… you entered my life—I couldn’t rest… not even once.”
“…Could I finally… rest now?”
That was his last breath. The moons faded. Gilead slipped into a final sleep.
Sia stared at his face in blank shock. The scar beneath his eye—the very one she resented—came into view.
She had hated him, even wished him dead for obstructing her revenge. But when he died protecting her, she was torn between grief and confusion. She’d trained so long, steeling herself to succeed—but he died before she could strike.
“Found you!”
Armed men closed in. She fell over him. A white-cloaked figure knelt before her—blonde, with deep blue eyes full of sorrow.
“Sia Ermodian, my faithful knight,” he said, stroking her hair.
“I never meant to abandon you. I truly wanted to save you…”
His voice trembled with grief. He pleaded with her to forgive him and told her to rest in peace.
Sia let her last thoughts drift as darkness crept in: If I am ever given another chance… I will make it count.
But her words were cut off as unconsciousness enveloped he
