ELTHARA

Elthara is a highborn hero intelligence-based mage hero of the Draconis faction. She transforms enemies into a Flaming Effigy, limiting their combat effectiveness while continuously inflicting Dragonspeak Damage and health loss.

To outsiders, Hildwin is the stern and authoritative elder of the Bloodridge tribe. But to Elthara, he's still her little brother-the one she's always looked after.

The nobler the bloodline, the rarer the offspring-most Highborn Dragons are born alone. That's why siblings like Elthara and Hildwin are so rare and so precious.

From a young age, Elthara outshone others of her kind. Her magic burned like fire, and so did her fearless, outspoken spirit. Hildwin, though gifted in his own right, was calm and reserved, preferring peace over conflict.

Whenever Hildwin sat quietly, buried in old scrolls, Elthara would grow restless and pull him away: "Stop hiding in your books, Hildwin! Let's race. See who flies faster!" She'd laugh and pat his shoulder, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Hildwin would glance up with a helpless smile. "Your wings are bigger. That's not fair."

"Then use magic. I won't stop you!" she'd raise her eyebrows, bursting with confidence.

In the end, while Elthara was still soaring, proudly showing off her storm-dodging skills, Hildwin had already teleported to the finish line. She paused, then burst out laughing and threw her arms around him. "You cheated! No magic next time!"

They were just kids back then. Hildwin would always greet her teasing with a soft smile. And Elthara, full of energy and pride, truly believed she'd always be there to protect him.

But lately, she's been haunted by the same dream again and again.

In the dream, she's back on that familiar cliff-sun blazing, wind in her ears, laughing as she tugs young Hildwin along. It brings a rare sense of peace, until the scene suddenly shatters the moment they take flight.

Dark clouds devour the sky, fire and monstrous howls come crashing down, and the lush green valley turns to scorched earth in an instant.

It was terrifying and completely unfamiliar. Nothing like this had ever happened in reality.

Then suddenly, she sees Hildwin standing alone in the wreckage, reaching out to her in despair: "Help me." She dives toward him, but an invisible force holds her back. She can't reach him.

Elthara wakes up in a jolt, chest tight with pain that refuses to fade.

Highborn Dragons rarely dream. When they do, a beautiful dream echoes their bloodline, and a nightmare is usually a warning.

At first, she tried to brush it off. Maybe she was just tired. But the nightmares didn't stop. Night after night, she returned to the same scorched land, watching her brother cry out for help. And every time she reached for him, the dream would collapse into flame and ash, leaving only his desperate shouts behind.

Sleep became harder. Her nerves frayed. Every time she woke, she would stare at the sky for hours, chest tight as if crushed. Deep down, she felt it-this wasn't just a dream. It was a call from another world.

Around that time, Hildwin was buried in council duties, busy with the human alliance. Elthara hadn't seen him in ages.

Finally, after yet another nightmare, Elthara snapped. She stormed into the solemn council hall and, under everyone's stunned gaze, pulled Hildwin from his seat, frantically checking him for wounds. The council erupted in murmurs. Hildwin gave her a helpless smile and sighed: "This isn't the time for games."

His calm face only made Elthara more uneasy.

That night, Elthara made up her mind: She would focus her magic, stay conscious inside the dream, and dig out whatever truth she could.

When she returned to the dream, Dragon Isle was already in ruins. Flames consumed the valleys. Malicious roars pressed down like shackles beneath broken clouds. The air reeked of blood and smoke.

A different Hildwin stood in the ruins, his wings tattered, scales charred, eyes cold like dying embers. He looked heartbreakingly alone. Elthara stepped forward, then froze when she saw her name carved on the tombstone before him.

Elthara stood there, stunned. Pain gripped her heart.

Hildwin turned slowly toward her. "You… look like my sister. But she's long gone…"

She walked toward him, voice trembling, and gently touched his back, just like she had so many times before. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Her comforting words softened the frost in Hildwin's eyes. "She… used to say that too."

Elthara pulled him into a tight embrace, just like she always did.

Maybe the Hildwin of this world had lost too much and even forgotten how to lean on someone. Elthara swallowed the ache in her heart and smiled: "Do you remember the flight trials?"

Hildwin paused, a faint light flickering in his eyes. "Of course I remember! But her wings were bigger than mine, and I always got swept away by storms. I never stood a chance…"

"Then today, I'll race you," Elthara said, spreading her wings. As Hildwin's eyes lit up, she took his hand and led him to the cliff's edge.

"This time, we'll cross the storm together."

Elthara used to make her brother fly with her over the cliffs again and again. To her, it was their special bond-something only the two of them shared. But in this unfamiliar world, even a fleeting sense of being protected had become a rare blessing for the lonely Hildwin.

The two of them spread their wings and soared straight into the fiery storm. Below, beasts clawed their way upward. Hildwin's wings still felt heavy, but when he looked up and saw her flying beside him, something long-lost stirred inside: strength.

"I finally won!" In the glow of the fire, Hildwin's gaze grew firm. He wasn't alone anymore. He crossed the finish line surrounded by love.

Elthara smiled, but the tears wouldn't stop. She wished she had just one more second with him, but the dream was crumbling into flame. Her body faded, little by little, until it vanished completely.

Since that day, Elthara never dreamed again.

She never told Hildwin what happened in the dream. She only brought it up with a smile one morning: "I still haven't forgiven you for cheating that time."

Hildwin paused, as if sensing her unease. Then he softly said, "Once this is all over… I'll race you again. No magic this time."

Elthara's resolve hardened. She knew those dreams weren't illusions-they were a glimpse into another path, another version of reality. And if she wanted to protect the brother standing before her, she had to find the truth, even if it meant crossing the boundary between the dream and waking world.

Not long after, the Draconis renewed their alliance with the humans. As tribe elder, Hildwin was sent to the Hathor frontlines. Elthara, as always, walked him to the cliff's edge and quietly watched him fly away.

As the wind howled, her thoughts drifted to the flight trials of their youth. She had once vowed to never leave his side, to protect him from all harm. But now, all she could do was watch his figure grow smaller in the sky.

The echoes of that dream returned-fire, scorched earth, and a path that led to a different fate.

A heavy weight settled over Elthara's chest. Highborn Dragons don't dream without purpose. And her bond with Hildwin told her that those dreams weren't fiction. The energy they carried didn't belong to this world. It clashed with reality like a foreign ripple, tearing at the balance of everything she knew.

Those tragedy-laced dreams… they might be warnings. Signs that something terrible was coming.

She slowly raised her hand, a small flame flickering at her fingertip.

If that truly was the truth of another world, she would uncover it herself, no matter what it took.