NOVEL NEXT Vol 2. Chapter 3: Test Drive
Time slipped by in Easthaven like slow-turning pages of a forgotten storybook. And with each passing day, Lukas found himself softening in ways he never expected.
He'd stayed hidden in the closet at first—a luxurious cavern of silk and perfume, big enough to shelter a dragon in exile, even in his draconic form. But that small space slowly became more than a place to hide. It became a sanctuary. A place where a wounded soul could rest—and where the laughter of a little girl could find its way through even the thickest of scars.
Rosalia came and went like a sunbeam, brightening the corners of his dim recovery. She was a peculiar one—royalty, yes—but barefoot more often than not, constantly slipping past her handmaidens, tutors, and etiquette instructors with a giggle and a plate of stolen food.
More than once, Lukas somehow found himself crouched behind castle pillars with her, pressed shoulder to shoulder in the kitchens' shadows while she handed him a sweet roll and whispered, "Don't chew too loud."
They were always nearly caught—and sometimes deliberately so. Rosalia liked the chase. Lukas liked watching her smile. But it wasn't all games.
In between the laughter, Lukas began to notice the great sorrow the young princess had been through. She never spoke of her parents unless in passing, and when she did, it was always too casual. Like reciting a fact from a book—detached and hollow.
"My mama liked lilac," she'd say once, absentmindedly tugging on a curtain near the window. "But they make me sneeze." Or: "Papa's sword is still in the hall. They polished it yesterday. He always hated that."
It didn't take Lukas long to realize that her parents were no longer of this world. There was no tremble in her voice when she spoke of them. But in her eyes Lukas could see it, grief that said more than any words could. It soon began to make sense why Rosalia had asked if Lukas would be friends with her because...as time went on, Lukas learnt that she did not really have any friends her age, no confidantes.
The castle was full of nobles, guards, and tutors—but no one who understood her. No one who looked past her titles to see the small girl she still was.
"All my tutors suck," she'd groan dramatically, throwing herself onto a cushion beside him one evening. "And even my favorite teacher is driving me crazy, Lukas! She keeps saying that you must master your body before everything else! And she keeps treating me like some kind of baby!"
Lukas smirked from his corner, arms crossed. "Maybe you are."
Rosalia gasped. "Take that back!"
"Nope."
She pelted him with grapes. Lukas didn't bother to dodge, the Divinity of the Seas brought to life as the water snatched the grapes out of the air before they hit him. The dragon found himself looking forward to those moments with the young princess more than he wanted to admit.
When Rosalia disappeared to attend lessons or sit through royal briefings, Lukas would stretch the remnants of his broken body, testing the limits of muscle and mana. The wounds from the battle with the Hero still burned—scars that refused to fade, bones that hadn't fully set. His right side in particular throbbed with a dull, deep ache, as though the Kraken's fusion came at the cost of something far more permanent.
Still…he endured.
This body—the body he was reborn into—felt like a shell of his former self, nothing compared to the heights he'd reached while he was in Kairos Castle. His movements were sluggish, his stamina pathetic, his mana flow barely a trickle compared to the storm he once commanded.
But Lukas was not too disheartened. Styx had warned him when the Trials had begun that the power he gained in Kairos Castle would not return with him to the living world. But as long as he still possessed the memories and the mindset he'd gained through the Trials, all the lessons he had been forced to learn, he would be able to get back to that level of strength quickly.
With patience and with time, he would return to that state.
Lukas put the Draconic Flow to use when alone, sometimes hours at a time, letting his mana stretch and pulse like a muscle being reborn. Even the Kraken seemed to move more easily now, slowly adapting. This bond between them wasn't just one of necessity anymore. It was one of evolution.
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No matter how many days passed, no matter how many shared smiles or stolen pastries, Lukas never let her in—not fully.
Rosalia asked, time and time again, with the soft insistence only a child could possess.
"Where are you from?"
"Who really are you? I've never seen anyone wield magic quite like that!"
"Are you a mage? A hero? Are you Oceanus?"
And each time, Lukas deflected—a smirk here, a shrug there, sometimes silence. Because no matter how much warmth he found in her presence…this was still Easthaven. The Kingdom that helped hunt down dragons. The Kingdom that called their extinction during the Great War. And she—for all her innocence—was still the Crown Princess to that very nation.
On the night of Rosalia Elarion's tenth birthday, Lukas heard her sobs before he saw the princess herself. Muffled, strained, in the bedroom outside the closet. She hadn't even greeted him like she usually did when she returned from her lessons.
Her cries were not the simple whining of a child who scraped her knee—but raw. Guttural. Real.
Lukas emerged slowly from behind the satin gowns, eyes narrowing at the sight of Rosalia curled up by her bed, her royal-blue dress wrinkled and stained with tears. The princess didn't even look up when she felt him approach.
He crouched beside her, gently, saying nothing at first.
Then, softly, "What happened?"
Her lip quivered. She shook her head, but the words eventually spilled.
"He said…he promised this time. Grandpa said he would have dinner with me. Just him and me…just like before. I waited for hours, Lukas. And he never came. He never even sent me a letter." Rosalia sniffled, struggling to speak in between choked sobs. "You know what's the worst part? I believed him. I really thought he meant it."
But then her voice grew sharper.
"And you—" Her voice cracked. "You're just like him!"
Lukas blinked. "What?"
"Both of you are liars! You say you're my friend but I don't even know who you are." She stood abruptly, her fists clenched. "You lie every time I ask. You smile like it's all okay. But I don't even know you. Not really."
Her words cut deeper than he expected. Because she was right. He had kept her in the dark. Not out of malice—but survival.
But in this moment, watching her struggle under the weight of abandonment, of isolation—the same feeling that had taken him...lifetimes to overcome. So, Lukas made a decision. He stood slowly and took a step back, meeting her red, tear-stained gaze. Rosalia thought Lukas had decided to leave her alone so she turned her back on him, continuing to cry.
It began with a glow—faint, aquamarine threads of light curling from beneath his skin like ancient runes waking from a slumber. The winds stirred and the walls of the castle seemed to groan slightly, aware of the power awakening within them. Scales rippled across his arms. His pupils slit. The sound of shifting bones echoed like distant thunder.
Then, with a pulse of magic older than the kingdoms of men, Lukas transformed.
Not into a monster. Not into a beast. But into something magnificent.
A sea dragon—sleek and coiling, dark blue with silver patterns rippling like tides across his hide. Fins shimmered along his back like elegant sails, and his eyes gleamed like ocean stars. He was neither grotesque nor frightening. He was sacred—a being that humanity thought had long gone extinct and yet here he was.
Rosalia stared, frozen—her tears forgotten, her mouth slightly agape. She whispered, "You're…you're a dragon." She stepped forward in awe, her tiny hands reaching out as though drawn to him by fate itself.
He lowered his body, wings stretching halfway open like a bridge made of starlight and shadow, to allow for her hands to touch his snout.
"I think it's time," Lukas said through the connection he now established with her through the Crown, "that I stretch my wings."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Lukas chuckled—a deep, rumbly sound that echoed with joy. "Climb on, Princess."
Rosalia didn't hesitate for a second. And the moment her hands grasped the back of his neck, he took flight. Out through the open balcony, shattering the silence of the royal halls as he took to the skies—the real skies—the first time since his rebirth.
The wind was cold and crisp, carrying the scent of pines and sea salt. Stars glittered above them like diamond dust scattered across velvet. The moon was a silver coin tossed into the sky, and beneath them, the entire Kingdom of Easthaven stretched in silence—ancient and small.
Rosalia clung to him, but not in fear. She laughed. Wild and free.
They soared over endless mountains, swept over sleeping valleys and shimmering lakes. Lukas banked and spiraled, rising through clouds and diving again in loops that made the girl scream with exhilaration. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Lukas wasn't hiding.
Lukas was flying, not as a fugitive and not as a survivor. But as a dragon. And with the girl who had somehow, impossibly, reminded him of what it meant to be human—riding joyfully on his back—he felt something he thought he'd forgotten.
Hope. Hope for a better future.