A Symphony of Freedom

In a nest of twigs and tender sighs,

A fledgling bird with curious eyes,

Dreams of dancing upon the azure sky,

Yearning to spread its wings, oh so high.

With trembling feathers, it takes a leap,

A brave endeavor, a promise to keep,

The wind whispers secrets, gentle and wise,

Embracing the bird, teaching it to rise.

With every beat of its fragile heart,

It conquers fear, a brand-new start,

With grace and courage, it learns to soar,

A symphony of freedom, forevermore.

A male in his 60s stood just below 6 feet tall, his demeanor exuding a composed aura. With an air of indifference, he held the weathered leather parchment firmly in his grasp, as if reciting his poem were merely a trivial task.

Bronze-colored skin, etched with the marks of time's passage, shimmered softly in the gentle light, while his maroon long hair, neatly tied in a horsetail, flowed elegantly down his back. A handful of wiry beard strands, now touched with slight hints of white, added to his distinguished appearance, a testament to the wisdom earned through years of life's journey.

The amber hues in his eyes remained stoic, devoid of any visible emotion as he embarked on the recital of his poetic creation. The verses flowed effortlessly from his lips, carrying a profound depth that spoke of experiences and insights accumulated over a lifetime.

Though prominent cheekbones and a straight nose with a slight bump lent an air of nobility to his countenance, it was the subtle glint of tiny scales atop his nose that hinted at his extraordinary draconic heritage. The enigmatic connection between his lineage and the legendary dragons added a mystical charm to his presence.

Exposing his shoulders adorned with larger scales, akin to human fingernails, he proudly displayed his link to the blood of dragons—an emblem of his ancestral blessings and noble lineage. In this realm, scales were revered as symbols of power and greatness, and he bore them with regal pride.

His attire, the long kirtles made of silk in various shades of blues, bore no sleeves, allowing his noble scales to be showcased with unyielding confidence. This was the norm in the land, where dragons and those with dragon heritage displayed their scales openly, signifying their pride in their illustrious bloodline.

"That will be enough for now, Grand Massier Skad. Our princess had enough inspiration for the day. You can leave now." a woman in her 40s with dark bronze skin that exuded an aura of wisdom and allure, commanded the room's attention effortlessly. Despite her age, her alluring figure and captivating appearance made her seem as though she were in her early 20s.

Her one-piece low-cut dress accentuated her curves, leaving an indelible impression on those who beheld her. Two grand hills graced her form, drawing the eyes of any man, regardless of age, as they were irresistibly captivated by her magnetic presence. Her maroon long hair, cascading gracefully down her curve waist, seemed to have a life of its own, swaying and dancing with every move she made.

As she walked, the grand hall seemed to come alive, basking in the radiance of her presence. Her every step exuded grace and confidence, leaving an air of authority that effortlessly matched the regal ambiance of the space. The trait of dragon lineage eminent in her nose tiny scales.

The indifferent poet nodded, unfazed by her charm, and made his way out of the grand hall without a second thought. As he retreated, the grandeur of the ballroom came into focus.

Dragon scale-shaped pillars guarded the space, paying homage to the majestic beings of ancient lore. Tapestries depicting legendary dragons adorned the walls, breathing life into stories of bravery and wonder.

But it was the floor, a breathtaking mosaic masterpiece, that captured the attention of all who walked upon it. Swirling dragons and blooming flowers danced in an intricate pattern, like a celestial ballet of colors.

Soft, plush carpets in regal blues and gold embraced the floor, ensuring that every step taken was akin to walking on clouds of comfort. Glowing crystal chandeliers illuminated the space, casting an enchanting light upon the grandeur.

Golden candelabras, each holding tall taper candles, awaited the guests who would fill the room with their presence and voices. The tables, yet to be occupied, stood adorned with elegance, awaiting the time of feasting and camaraderie.

"Princess! Bath is ready. Afterwards you are to join His highness for Dinner."

As the lady's voice carried through the grand corridors of the Newleighia Kingdom's castle, the young girl, Lyra Ignathr, turned her attention towards the speaker. She was a Princess in her teens, still growing into her womanhood, yet already carrying the air of nobility and regal bearing befitting her status.

her light brown skin radiating an ethereal quality that added to her regal allure. Her amber eyes, like pools of wisdom and mystery, held a captivating allure. They seemed to carry the weight of ages, as if she had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms in her young years. Though her gaze was distant, there was a sense of depth and authority that commanded respect from those around her.

Above her enigmatic gaze, her small nose had a graceful slope and a subtle bridge, displaying the delicate silver scales that marked her as a bearer of the noble Draconic bloodline. These tiny scales added a touch of enchantment to her features, emphasizing her connection to the mythical beings of ancient tales.

Princess Lyra's golden soft hair was intricately braided, cascading elegantly in multiple braids just above her waistline. Each braid seemed to be a testament to her composed and dignified demeanor, representing the meticulous care she took in upholding her royal status.

Her lips, often held in a neutral line, revealed little of her emotions to those around her. Yet, the occasional subtle quirk or furrowing of her brows hinted at the depth of her thoughts and the complexity of her feelings that she chose to keep hidden beneath her regal exterior.

Her well-defined jawline added to the aura of nobility that surrounded her, while her gracefully arranged features spoke of a lineage steeped in heritage and tradition. There was a sense of unspoken authority that accompanied her every move, as if she carried the weight of her royal bloodline with quiet confidence.

"Methilda, you know my decision regarding dinner with my father," Princess Lyra stated calmly, yet there was an underlying sense of resolve in her words. "I have made my feelings clear on the matter. I prefer to spend my evenings in solitude, attending to my studies and personal pursuits."

Her small nose twitched slightly, a subtle indication of the emotions she was trying to suppress. The tiny silver scales seemed to shimmer with a hint of unspoken tension.

"I understand the importance of maintaining appearances and fulfilling my duties as a Princess," she continued, her voice unwavering. "However, there are times when I need space and time to gather my thoughts, away from the formalities of the royal court."

"Princess! Keeping anger on your father will not do any good"

As Princess Lyra's lady-in-waiting gently spoke those words, Lyra turned her gaze to her confidante, Methilda, with a mixture of surprise and appreciation. The lady's words were not harsh or judgmental, but rather filled with a caring concern for her well-being.

"Besides, Prince Felix of Kirden Empire still missing. He may never return."

Princess Lyra's amber eyes widened slightly at Methilda's additional words. The mention of Prince Felix, the missing heir to the Kirden Empire, brought a new perspective to the situation. A mixture of emotions flickered across her composed countenance—concern, uncertainty, and a glimmer of hope.

"Prince Felix..." Lyra's voice trailed off, her thoughts momentarily consumed by the implications of his absence. She had heard rumors and whispers about the missing prince, but the reality of the situation had not fully sunk in until now.

Methilda continued gently, "Yes, Princess. The uncertainty surrounding Prince Felix's whereabouts casts a shadow of doubt on the engagement. If he does not return, the alliance may indeed be voided."

Lyra's mind raced, considering the possibilities that lay before her. A sense of unease settled within her, as she grappled with the weight of the situation. While the prospect of the engagement being voided offered a glimmer of freedom, it also brought forth a myriad of questions and uncertainties.

"Even so, the burden of my duty as a princess remains," Lyra murmured