Paris was no longer recognizable. What had once been the capital of men had become a dark draconic city, dominated by an immense black and sharp structure, a new sinister palace erected by Maelor at the heart of human ruins. A symbol of his absolute domination.

But today, this palace trembled.

Inside, Mordred advanced slowly, methodically, his steps echoing on the cold and dark slabs of the great hall. His body now overflowed with immeasurable power, his crushing aura spreading like an invisible mist, suffocating every breath of life that dared cross his path.

The draconic guards, even the most powerful ones, fell without exception. Each of Mordred's strikes was precise, merciless, absolute. His face, frozen in glacial impassivity, expressed neither joy nor anger. Only his orange eyes burned with cold and insensitive determination, silent witnesses to the carnage he left behind.

When he finally arrived before the last door of the great hall, only one living dragon remained. The creature trembled on the ground, scales stained with the blood of his comrades, face deformed by terror.

- "You," Mordred murmured, approaching slowly, "you will live."

The dragon raised his eyes, stunned, trying to understand this unexpected clemency.

- "Why?" he dared to ask in a voice broken by fear.

- "Because you will carry a message to your king. Tell him that I am here. That Mordred has returned to Paris, and that I will wait here. Tell him that every drop of blood spilled until now will be but a glimpse of what awaits him."

The dragon nodded frantically, terrified, then rose with difficulty and fled without asking for more.

Alone now, Mordred silently observed the dark palace surrounding him. The silence, punctuated only by the weak moans of the rare survivors still conscious, enveloped him like an icy blanket.

He wandered for a few moments in the vast corridors, each room reminding him of the cruel and merciless domination of dragons over this world. And as he continued his exploration, he suddenly felt something.

A slight magical tremor, almost imperceptible, coming from an isolated room at the end of the corridor. Curious, he followed this subtle trail and delicately opened the door to what seemed to be a royal chamber, plunged in shadows.

That's where he saw her.

Elystria, lying on a bed of dark velvet, plunged in eternal sleep, motionless like a statue. Her face, once proud and lively, was now pale and frozen in an expression of silent melancholy. Her chest rose slowly, weakly, in a regular but fragile rhythm. A princess prisoner of a sleep to which she seemed condemned.

Mordred advanced slowly toward her, his heart tightening with unexpected emotion. Buried memories slowly rose to the surface: this princess who had always kept a certain distance, but who had also, in her own way, watched over him in the Colosseum. The one who had offered him a different look, almost tender, in the midst of the hell of combat.

He sat gently beside her, contemplating her calm and peaceful face, as if he were trying to understand what had brought her to this state. Gently, almost with hesitation, he extended a hand, lightly caressing her cold cheek with his fingertips. A gesture of rare gentleness, coming from one who now knew only violence.

He delicately brushed away a strand of silver hair that crossed the princess's face. His aura extended gently, subtly probing her condition. He clearly felt the ancient magic that had plunged her into this endless coma, a powerful and devastating magic linked to her own gift.

Mordred's heart tightened further. He murmured softly, in a voice filled with sincere sadness, almost imperceptible:

- "What happened to you, princess?"

He remained there, silent, his fingers still resting on Elystria's cold skin, his orange eyes contemplating this woman he had never completely forgotten, feeling for the first time in a long while something other than anger.

Mordred remained motionless for a long time, his orange gaze fixed on Elystria's sleeping face. Why did he suddenly feel this strange weight in his chest? He who had sworn to offer dragons only hatred and suffering now found himself hesitant before this sleeping princess, vulnerable, almost fragile in her eternal sleep.

A silent conflict was born within him, an inner battle he had never anticipated. Elystria represented everything he had learned to hate, and yet... she was different. This princess who had treated him differently than as a simple slave or weapon. Even though their relationship had always been subtle, complex, tinged with ambiguity, he had always sensed in her a form of distant compassion, an empathy she had never openly admitted.

He sighed slowly, resigned to accept this uncomfortable truth: he owed her something. A debt he didn't quite understand but knew was real. For the first time, he decided to follow what his instinct dictated, rather than his cold and implacable logic.

Mordred slowly closed his eyes, then gently extended his magical energy around Elystria. His draconic mana, now deeply modified by all the powers he had absorbed throughout his battles, progressively enveloped the princess's body like a delicate mist, gentle but insistent.

His mind sank slowly, delicately probing the depths of Elystria's dormant energy. He immediately felt the princess's powerful magic, ancient and almost impenetrable, like a silent ocean beneath the surface of endless sleep. Mordred sought to penetrate it, to find the flaw, the breach through which he could reach her consciousness, but it remained closed, hermetic, resistant to any direct contact.

He frowned slightly, determined to try again.

- "Listen to me, Elystria..." he murmured inwardly, letting his mana vibrate gently with sincerity, seeking to create a subtle resonance, a deep connection that would surpass her instinctive defenses.

- "Feel my presence. I am here, very close..."

But nothing happened. Elystria remained motionless, frozen in her eternal sleep, her mind totally inaccessible behind the wall of her own powers.

Mordred did not give up. He understood that brute force would be useless here. He had to find another path, gentler, more subtle. He released his magical grip, let his mana flow slowly around her, like a light caress, almost affectionate, trying to make Elystria understand that he represented not a threat but an ally, a familiar presence she could let enter her unconscious universe.

Gradually, he felt a slight reaction, an infinitesimal pulsation of life, a subtle vibration within Elystria's mana. Encouraged by this first sign, Mordred delicately intensified his contact, attempting to gently instill in her mind an image, a fleeting memory: the Colosseum, her silver gaze meeting his, a brief silent complicity in hell.

But Elystria's mind remained distant, protected by her instinctive defenses. Despite the slight opening, she remained still deeply asleep, trapped in her own power.

Mordred opened his eyes, frustrated but determined to continue. He now knew what he had to do: establish an even deeper link, risk sharing more of himself, his memories, his emotions, to hope to reach the heart of her consciousness.

He delicately placed a hand on Elystria's forehead, his thumb gently brushing her cold temple.

- "I don't know why I'm doing this for you, princess," he murmured with gentleness. "But I'm doing it. And I won't give up until you wake up."

His voice was firm, assured, charged with silent determination. He breathed deeply, ready to attempt once more this risky and delicate fusion with Elystria's mind, hoping that this time, he would finally succeed in breaking the seal of her eternal sleep.

A magical pulsation suddenly traversed Elystria's body, making her closed eyelids tremble slightly. Mordred felt this resonance like a subtle shock in his own chest. He froze, surprised, but intensified even more gently his magical link, making his mana vibrate with new delicacy, almost instinctive.

And suddenly, the princess's silver eyes opened slowly, as if she were slowly emerging from the depths of a silent ocean. Her troubled gaze immediately met Mordred's orange pupils, so close, barely a few centimeters from her own face.

She started slightly, taken aback, but didn't retreat. She seemed paralyzed by a complex, inexplicable emotion, a strange warmth that slowly rose in her cheeks, tinting them with a slight, almost imperceptible blush.

- "Mordred..." she murmured in a confused breath, barely audible.

He immediately perceived this trouble through the magical link that had woven between them, feeling with unprecedented precision each nuance of emotions that crossed Elystria. Surprise. Confusion. And something else, more subtle, more intimate, that she desperately tried to repress.

Mordred then understood what this meant. A discreet smile, almost gentle, slowly sketched on his lips.

- "I see..." he said softly, letting his gaze soften slightly in response to this unexpected emotion he clearly perceived through her.

Elystria quickly looked away, embarrassed and vulnerable, realizing that Mordred now felt exactly what she felt herself. She tried in vain to close the instinctive defenses of her mind, but the link established between them was now too solid, too intimate to be easily broken.

- "Why did you do this?" she finally murmured, her voice hesitant and soft, charged with a vulnerability she had never displayed before.

Mordred hesitated for a moment, then answered with brutal honesty, unusual:

- "I'm not certain myself. Perhaps because, despite everything, I owed you something. Something I don't entirely understand, but that exists. Perhaps because you were different from the others."

She gently raised her eyes toward him, her silver gaze now shining with pure and unusual sincerity.

- "You felt all of that?" she breathed with apprehension. "Everything I'm feeling now...?"

Mordred slowly nodded, his expression gentler than she had ever seen it.

- "Yes. And I understand."

Elystria felt her heart accelerate slightly, unable to hide her embarrassment and this strange, new warmth that she no longer controlled at all. She looked away again, blushing more intensely, but Mordred made no gesture to rush or tease her further.

He simply remained there, silent, attentive, letting the silence between them carry this new fragile but powerful link they had just discovered together.

This moment suspended in time belonged to them alone, and neither Mordred nor Elystria wished to break it right away. For the first time, they felt a connection that transcended everything that had separated them until then. An unexpected but deeply sincere link.