Pilgrimage [Western Fantasy] - Chapter 10
The dragons’ instinct is simple and fierce: they crave treasures.
But treasures for dragons aren’t just piles of gold or gems. Anything rare, precious, or beautiful is something they want to possess.
That includes the beauty of a living land — even the allure of people.
Estelle had read countless tales, heard stories time and again about how ancient dragons kidnapped stunning human women to be their brides, only to cast them aside coldly once their youth faded.
Beauty, they said, is a scarce and divine gift — but also the root of suffering.
She scoffed at how these stories tried to sugarcoat such plundering as some kind of mercy or compassion, a twisted kindness used to shame the victims even further.
Her gaze darkened, deepening like a lake under a heavy storm, turning nearly pitch black. Within that dark surface, a deadly intent rippled, subtle but chilling, like a fine rain cooling her skin.
If Nidhogg really meant to imprison her, Estelle was ready to pay any price—even death—to kill him.
Caught in that nearly freezing stare, the silver-haired figure finally stirred.
Nidhogg reached out uncertainly and grasped her arm. Looking deeply into her eyes, there was an unexpected innocence there—childlike, not the fierce glare of a dragon.
Those eyes weren’t dragon eyes.
Without thinking, Estelle raised her hand to gently touch his eyelids. Nidhogg mirrored her gesture, touching the same spot on her face.
The icy girl, usually as cold and still as snow and ice, smiled faintly. Her serene blue eyes softened just a little.
Nidhogg stared at her blankly, his bone dragon instincts taking a back seat to a sudden desire—he wanted to kiss those eyes, to keep her smiling forever.
Estelle barely noticed his longing gaze. Her beauty shone like a star diamond or a full moon—admired and loved by many, yet no one dared approach her closely because of her fearsome reputation. She paid no mind to those false affections.
She sighed softly. “So… where are you planning to take me?”
The bone dragon led her deeper into the palace’s inner sanctum, to a quiet room where a soft bed awaited.
Estelle found it oddly amusing. “Even souls need to sleep, huh?”
Nidhogg simply nodded.
She pulled back the quilt and curled up in the middle of the bed. “Alright, I’m actually a bit tired. Thanks.”
Under the bone dragon’s watchful eyes, she closed her own and quickly drifted off.
Nidhogg reached out gently to touch her face again, carefully as if to reassure himself she was real. The sharp bone spikes on his fingers retracted, but he was cautious not to apply too much pressure.
To him, Estelle was like a fragile bubble—beautiful but fleeting, something that might vanish the moment he turned away.
A long tail flicked behind him, the spiked bone curling up the blanket and pulling it snugly over Estelle. He nodded quietly in approval, then opened the door and stepped out.
No sooner had he left than Estelle’s eyes opened wide.
She muttered, “He really has no sense of human things. Doesn’t he know that’d smother him?”
It was unlike the cunning dragon kind she’d heard of—maybe a side effect of becoming a bone dragon. Or maybe he was just pretending not to understand.
As she pondered this, a strong surge of magic pulsed outside the palace, drawing her back to sleep before she even noticed.
Elsewhere, the red dragon seethed in frustration, breathing scorching flames over a bleeding wound in his hind leg caused by a bone spear.
“Nidhogg… falling for a human, Estelle, was a mistake,” he spat. “You want to bind yourself to a human monster?”
Nidhogg’s eyes flared bright white flames. “That’s none of your business.”
The red dragon laughed bitterly, but moments later, his form shifted into a scarred red-haired man.
“You’re already blinded by her,” he mocked the bone dragon with cruel words, “stupid and reckless.”
But deep down, he couldn’t help but recall the black-haired girl and how she had looked back at him.
As an ancient dragon with an immortal lifespan, Alex had lived through the rise and fall of kingdoms. Human heroes were nothing more than fleeting sparks to him.
He had once razed an entire city to the ground, but also lingered in forests just to witness a rare flower bloom.
He had seen destruction and beauty—majestic and humble—side by side.
Humans were a contradiction—noble yet base, powerful yet fragile.
The moment he first saw Estelle, something stirred within him—an echo of beauty that touched his heart again.
Her calm sapphire eyes, her steady temperament even when angered, reminded him of that flower he once saw blooming all night.
That flower was so breathtaking that dragons stopped and watched, mesmerized by its fragile, fleeting splendor.
But it only blossomed under the cover of darkness before withering away, hidden by the goddess of spring to keep its beauty secret and temporary.
Alex saw Estelle in the same light: as something otherworldly, too beautiful to be real—like a poem, a dream.
His fiery interest cooled; he no longer provoked Nidhogg.
“Estelle,” he said softly, “the name of this human…”
When Estelle woke again, she found two giant dragons in human form sitting silently in her room, eyes closed.
“Hey, you awake yet?” came a rough, fiery voice.
A face of iron and bl00d hovered close—a handsome man with burning crimson eyes.
“How long have you been sleeping, Estelle?”
She glanced him over, expression unreadable.
“Why are you still here?”
After all she’d done to him, after being defeated by the bone dragon too, he hadn’t left. Was he some kind of masochist?
Alex didn’t answer, only leaned in and looked deep into her eyes.
“Human, your eyes shine brighter than any jewel in my treasure vault.”
Estelle stayed silent for a long moment before smiling, then landed a quick punch to his eye.
“Pervert.”
Unaware of the relaxed Estelle in this quiet room, chaos was already tearing apart the imperial capital.
Hibel sensed the fierce glare of the Stoker family’s eldest son. The arrival of his sister had stripped away all disguise from this man, revealing a savage resolve beneath.
If he killed Hibel now, he could replace his sister. The soul returning to its body would not save her—Wilder would kill her even if she fought desperately.
This man, driven by madness to protect his sister, could no longer bear the uncertainty of Estelle’s fate.
Wilder approached the bed, scooped Estelle up, and turned to leave the Temple of Light.
“Wilder.”
A tired voice stopped him.
The crown prince’s eyes glimmered with bloodlust.
“You know Estelle is not safe here.”
“You can’t take her away.”