NOVGO.NET Chapter 489: • A Cage of Good Intentions Part Three
Chapter 489: • A Cage of Good Intentions Part Three
A beat of silence. Then two.
She blinked, then looked away quickly, blushing at the sides of her cheeks.
“…You’re so annoying when you say things like that,” she mumbled.
He chuckled.
“Come on,” he said, stepping past her, motioning for her to follow. “I’ll show you.”
“Now?” she asked, eyes widening. “Like, now-now?”
“You said it yourself,” he said, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “You want to live, right? Well, you can’t do that properly if you’re going to keep hiding behind skin that no longer fits you… Princess.”
“Call me that again and I’ll kill you!” she said sharply.
Alister simply chuckled.
…
…
Alister led the way in silence, talons clicking with each step like faint chimes against the stone path that led out of the inner sanctum of the city.
Miyu trailed just behind him, arms folded.
The corridors eventually gave way to open air, and the warm orange runes that lit the dragon city’s inner walls faded behind them, replaced by the soft glow of bioluminescent trees and floating lanterns that drifted like slow-moving stars.
They climbed a narrow, winding path until they came to a small hill nestled between two dragon-forged outposts.
Grass covered the slope in wild tufts, kissed by moonlight.
He came to a stop near the top.
“This should be good enough for a spot,” he murmured.
Miyu looked around, letting the cool wind tousle her hair. The view from up here was staggering. The entire dragon city shimmered below them like a nest—towers that spiraled toward the clouds, bridges suspended between wings of crystal, and the distant roar of wyverns echoing in the canyon below. It was beautiful… and so utterly strange. Even now.
“Figures you’d pick a place with grass,” she said, brushing a hand through the blades. “Always were the sentimental one.”
He didn’t deny it. Maybe he was.
The wind shifted, catching the edges of his coat. He turned to face her fully.
Alister tilted his head slightly, the ambient moonlight catching the fine, obsidian edges of his draconic scales.
“Alright,” he said, voice calm but firm, as if he were about to begin a rite, not a lesson. “Before anything else—you need to stop thinking like a human.”
Miyu blinked, a look of mild disappointment on her face. “Gee, thanks for the incredibly helpful advice, wise master.”
He smirked, but didn’t return the sarcasm. Instead, he stepped forward, claws digging into the grass as his form subtly adjusted.
His body seemed to breathe differently when he said those words—like he had let go of some invisible tension she hadn’t noticed until it was gone.
“No, really,” he said. “Humans think in limitations… And I mean by what they see and understand through their physical appearance. Dragons don’t. This form isn’t the true you, it’s a form with your draconic powers suppressed. When we change form, it’s not like flexing a muscle or casting a spell. It’s like… remembering what we really are and letting it out, not holding it back.”
He gestured to his chest.
“Your body is already a dragon. Your soul too. The only thing holding you back is how you see yourself.”
Miyu shifted uneasily.
“You make a point, but… I’m certain it goes beyond just feeling… I mean… I’ve tried to… like, change and grow wings and stuff, it didn’t work like that. Even if what you’re saying is true, what if I don’t know what I’m supposed to reach for or let out?”
Alister’s gaze softened.
He stepped closer, just enough that the distance didn’t feel so wide.
“Close your eyes,” he said gently.
She hesitated, then obeyed.
“Now listen,” he continued, his voice low, coaxing. “You’ve always had a spark inside the depths of your soul. All dragons do. It’s the part of you that remembers. You need to find that spark and feed it with something… like fear.”
He paused, then added, “Do you remember what emotion you felt when you first used your power? Even just a flicker of it?”
“…I was excited. It was during the spar with Father,” she whispered. “But not just that. I was excited because I was having fun and was a bit happy to know I had a father.”
Alister nodded slowly. “Good. That’s where it began. But we’re going to use fear now.”
He paused for a moment.
“What is the most negative memory you can remember… or a positive one that was ruined by a truth you found out?”
Miyu’s brow furrowed slightly, and her lips parted, trembling as if holding something back. Her hands curled into the grass at her sides.
“There was… one time,” she said quietly, almost inaudible. “You were still at Aiges Academy.”
Alister’s expression shifted—eyes narrowing just slightly, sensing the weight in her voice.
“You were supposed to come back for our birthday,” she continued, her tone laced with a brittle edge. “But… you didn’t.”
He straightened, saying nothing.
“Next time we met, you said you got hurt during a spar… and I believed you. I did. I still do, I think,” she murmured, blinking rapidly as if fighting off the sting in her eyes. “But I… I remember sitting alone that night, hoping you would come. I kept waiting and waiting.”
Her voice cracked, barely a whisper now.
“And I started wondering if maybe you just didn’t want to waste time or money… on me. That maybe it was easier to stay there. Have fun. Forget.”
She turned her face away, ashamed. “I knew it wasn’t fair to think that way. But I couldn’t help it. That night, I felt like I didn’t matter. Like I’d been… discarded.”
The wind rustled the grass gently, carrying her words off into the dark. For a moment, she didn’t dare look at him.
Then, after a long silence, she asked, “Is that the kind of pain you mean?”
Alister let out a low, weak chuckle—one that carried no real humor, only a quiet ache.
“Yes,” he said, voice rougher now. “That’s it.”
He moved to sit beside her, lowering himself slowly onto the grass, talons curling into the earth.