Freedom of Lies

Chapter 1

Festival of Gashu

Tick tock~ Tick tock~

Riiing~

"Mother, it's time to go to the capital."

Eliron, a young dragon who took the form of a human child, was practically vibrating with excitement. His yellow eyes sparkled, though he tried his best to look unimpressed. "We can't be late..."

Gatha, his mother, finished braiding her long golden hair, dabbing her forehead with a soft, new handkerchief she'd gotten from the human queen. "So soft," she murmured, admiring it before tucking it away. She noticed Eliron tugging on her blue dress.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," she laughed, looking down at him. "What did you say?"

"We're gonna be late," he huffed, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. It was no use hiding it—he was thrilled. They were finally visiting the capital, and he couldn't wait to see the baby princess everyone was talking about. His parents, however, were taking their time, as usual.

"Your father's on his way," Gatha said, adjusting her dress. "I can feel his mana."

"You said that thirty minutes ago!" Eliron groaned, unable to contain his impatience any longer.

"So impatient. Who's kid are you?"

Just then, the front door to their tree house creaked open, and in walked his father, Ruvan, his armor gleaming. He started removing it piece by piece, accepting the clothes Gatha handed him in exchange.

"He's our kid. And you're late." 

He smiled at her words, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Ew," Eliron muttered, wrinkling his nose, earning laughter from both his parents.

A minute later, with his father leading the way, they left the great forest and traveled east toward Gashu, the capital city. Their family home was nestled in one of the region's oldest trees, which had hollowed naturally over centuries.

Though they hadn't moved there "recently"—it had been nearly a century ago—it felt recent enough in the long-lived memories of dragons.

As they reached Gashu, the city was buzzing with energy.

It was the first day of the new year, and the whole country was alive with celebration.

Snow dusted the rooftops, and townsfolk huddled in layers of fur and wool, their cheeks rosy as they gathered in the massive square.

Even in the cold air, lanterns hung from stalls and cast a warm, golden glow over the crowd.

Children darted between groups, clutching treats from the food stalls, which offered warm meals by morning and, for tonight's celebration, free food for all.

Eliron could still taste the sweet sugar apple from last year—the red, crisp surface coated in a glossy layer of hardened sugar.

He remembered his father teasing him then: "Don't eat too much, or those human teeth will start hurting."

Of course, he'd tattled to his mother about it, only to sneak two more apples when his father wasn't looking.

As the evening wore on, a dwarf called out to their group, leading them toward a grassy courtyard by the royal palace, where beastmen, elves, and humans mingled freely.

Eliron's father was the first to let his guard down, shedding his human disguise to reveal his majestic dragon form under the night sky. His mother smiled down at him and asked if he wanted to stay by her side, but he shook his head.

In the courtyard, the human king himself removed his ceremonial cloak and offered Eliron's father a basin of ale, clinking his glass with a hearty laugh.

The usually reserved elven chief laughed as well, shaking his head at one of the dwarves' jokes, and dwarves lifted their mugs in endless toasts, voices filling the air with stories and laughter.

Even his mother, who had stayed in her human form, was mingling happily with the queen, admiring her silky hair and exchanging beauty tips.

Eliron watched, soaking it all in: the sounds of the festival, the warmth of the people, even as snow dusted the scene. It felt like the very definition of peace.

He looked up just in time to see his friend, Pearce, the young prince of Gashu, striding toward him, looking every bit the dignified adult despite only being a few years older in human terms.

He grinned, and Eliron's mother handed him a small ring—one that would help Eliron keep his human disguise so he could join Pearce.

"Come on," Pearce said, eyes gleaming as he leaned down to Eliron's level. "Want to see my baby sister?"

Eagerly, they slipped away, making their way to the royal tower's nursery.

When they entered, maids greeted them with warm smiles. One of them chuckled, crouching down to lift the tiny princess from her crib.

"Look, Eli," the nanny said, holding out the bundle of blankets. "The princess is still so small, even smaller than you when you first turned into a human."

Eliron's eyes widened. "Can she walk by next year?"

The maids chuckled. "Oh, let's hope not. Babies running? Now *that* would be a sight!"

They laughed, sharing memories of Eliron as a young dragon learning to shift forms. 

After seeing the princess, Eliron and Pearce returned to the square, everyone huddled over at the center. They were ready to experience the first prototype of a relic called camera, made by the genius craftsmen of the dwarven species.

It was a perfect moment and feeling captured in a sheet of paper.

To wrap up the evening Eliron and Pearce joined other children around a puppet show celebrating the unity of all species. The story was fun, but Eliron found himself glancing around the square, taking in the sight of his family.

His father, still in dragon form, was comfortably lying on the ground, letting people rest on his back as they chatted with him.

His mother was laughing with the other mothers, sipping wine and sharing stories.

Even the elven priestess came. She'd come to bless the newborn princess and was speaking to the queen, bestowing blessings for prosperity and peace.

A deep sense of happiness washed over him, a quiet contentment at the warmth and joy of the people around him.

"I'm having so much fun," he said softly, almost to himself.

Pearce, who was sitting beside him, gave him a sideways look. "You're satisfied with just this?"

Eliron turned, frowning. "What do you mean?"

Pearce's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Come on, you're a dragon. Aren't you meant for… I don't know, something bigger?"

A shiver crept up Eliron's spine, though he couldn't tell why.

Before he could ask more, Pearce shrugged it off with a laugh, brushing his words away and then he left Eliron. 

An ominous bell tolled from deep within the city—a low, haunting sound that rolled through the streets, casting a hush over the once-celebratory crowd.

Laughter stilled, replaced by wary glances as everyone turned to locate the source.

However it was too late.

Beneath them, the ground began to hum, as if something powerful and ancient had awoken beneath Gashu's soil.

The Demon King of the Underworld was summoned.

Years later, the same pit and underground the summoning took place became someone's prison.

Far below, in a darkened cave, a young brown dragon stirred. Its eyes flickered with a faint, eerie light before closing with a weary sigh.

There was the hollow echo of a bell—distant but familiar.

That bell, for years now, had become his calendar.

Each ring was a reminder that another year had passed, another cycle trapped in these damp depths.

Another year breathing, but not truly living.

The bell that signifies celebration, now became one of dread.

Now, in the present, Eliron—no longer a child but a hardened, weary dragon—was imprisoned underground, bound and chained to the cave's jagged stone floor.

All around him, human and beastmen slaves wielded pickaxes, smashing them against the rocks, the metallic clangs echoing off the walls. They all had glass eyes and never react to Eliron no matter how much he acted. 

It had been that way for a decade.

He's tired of trying now.

The guards stationed around the perimeter watched with idle disinterest, some occasionally spitting in his direction, mocking him as if he were nothing but a beast underfoot.

They had no fear of him now, not after so long.

The people of Gashu were ruled by the demon king, and the guards here saw Eliron's potential as nothing but a distant memory, crushed under years of captivity.

For Eliron, though, the bitterness lingered, and each clang of the pickaxes reminded him of what he once was—and what he could still be, if only he could break free.

But how... no, why... I'm tired now.

Please...

Just let me die.

Echoing from the various small-sized tunnels was a disgusting conversation.

"…gonna go to the festival?"

"Later. I wanna see the desert maidens dance."

"All hail the Demon King! Catching such beauties!"

"Hahaha! What luck!"

The brown dragon, with dirt clinging to him, felt more disturbed.

A century ago, a dark storm swept over the land.

In the country of Gashu—the world's most prosperous realm—a group of unnamed beings rose under the banner of patriotism, saying they were getting back the lower creatures' potential back up.

The blessed ones foretold that this was the start of "Ultimate Suffering."

From the shadows came the Demon King, leading unearthly beasts in his wake. Within a year, he claimed Gashu as his own, and peaceful beings—human, elven, dwarven, beastmen—saw him as their highest threat, something to unite against.

In this deep underground cavern, Eliron lay still as a torrent of water washed over him.

Mages spat curses as they tried to break through the rocky armor on his scales, but his massive eyes didn't blink, didn't react. He merely sighed inwardly, letting the water cascade over him without a struggle.

Humans... they're disgusting, Eliron thought, though a part of him corrected, No, I shouldn't generalize.

The young dragon of two centuries had been raised with the belief that humans were to be cherished.

He remembered the days when humans and his kind coexisted joyfully.

Humans were fragile yet resilient, humble yet fiercely brave, and they filled the world with light and laughter. But things had changed; darkness had taken root in Gashu's heart, and he, too, was caught in its grip.

A figure approached, dressed in robes of dark power, a man with a beard and a sneering expression. "Ugh! This dragon reeks."

Eliron's amber eyes narrowed, watching the man with a flicker of recognition. "Pearce," he rumbled, his voice thick with weariness. "Are you here to kill me now?"

Pearce—the man who had once been his friend—glared at the dragon.

His eyes burned with something cold and empty, far from the lively gaze Eliron once knew. "Our lord Gashu requires you cleaned up. This place is reserved for the next round of children."

"Children? Have you turned them into puppets, too?"

Pearce's lip curled. "Do not disrespect our Lord's methods. The Demon King's wisdom surpasses all, and if mindless loyalty ensures humanity's survival, so be it."

Eliron's massive eyes reflected a deep disgust. "Do you think your parents are proud of what you've become, Pearce?"

At that, Pearce's face twisted, his anger barely restrained. "Don't you dare speak of them. They were traitors! They handed us over to creatures like you, abandoning our destiny and potential for a life beneath dragon wings."

Eliron chuckled, low and bitter. "You talk about destiny and potential, yet here you are, enslaved to someone who despises you, handing your own people to him like fodder. This 'lord' of yours knows nothing of our world or our struggles."

Pearce's eyes hardened as he spun on his heel, unwilling to engage further.

But Eliron's words didn't stop.

"Have you forgotten the peace we shared?!" Eliron's voice roared to life as memories he wished would not resurface to hurt him again popped up, "Dwarves who crafted wonders for us all! Beastmen who shared their strength! Elves who opened their libraries and taught us their ways! Can you not remember a single good thing from the union we've all had?! Even your parents, Pearce… they loved you and would have done anything to protect you, to give you the best of what life offered. And you're telling me they're the ones who betrayed humanity?"

For a moment, Pearce's face flickered with something—doubt, perhaps, or regret. But it vanished quickly. "Our lord's vision is beyond your understanding, dragon."

Pearce turned away, his followers trailing him like shadows, leaving Eliron to the darkness once more.

As their footsteps faded, Eliron lowered himself to the cold stone floor, closing his eyes.

For almost twenty years he had been a prisoner here, reliving memories of warmth and laughter, of those peaceful, hopeful times.

He wondered what all the pain and destruction had truly accomplished, what the Demon King's "greater vision" had done except tear families and friends apart.

As he drifted into a deep slumber, memories flooded back, pulling him into a dream of simpler days.

He remembered his mother's gentle voice, soothing him as she once did when he was young, her soft hum brushing away his fears.

"…It's okay, Eliron. It'll all be okay…"