The Soul’s Journey Begins

"Not all enemies are strangers.

Some are born from the same storm."

Wandering Through the Void

There was no time in the void.

No stars dared whisper. No comets passed. Only two drifting forces — wounded echoes of once-mighty gods — the White and Black Dragon souls, silently coasting through the shattered remains of their war.

Their physical bodies had perished. Their pride had not.

The White Dragon shimmered like moonlight against glass, its form translucent, breathing with the soft pulse of creation. Mist coiled from its spine like strands of memory, and in its glowing eyes danced fragments of serenity.

The Black Dragon beside it moved like a crack through space itself — jagged, vengeful. Its golden fractures leaked light like bleeding magma, and its tail flared with embers from forgotten suns. Where it drifted, silence turned heavier.

They had once roared across galaxies in open hatred. But now… they shared a silence.

Not peace.

But something colder — a bond shaped by endless conflict.

"The Lion…" the Black Dragon rumbled, voice like thunder behind a closed door.

"He stole it from us. Our right. Our end."

"He didn't steal," murmured the White Dragon. "He fulfilled what we couldn't."

The Black Dragon snarled. "Then we destroy what he became. Even his name shall turn to ash."

They turned forward. The path was clear.

A new world shimmered into view — a blue and green gem, suspended in the darkness.

Earth.

The Sleeping World

Below them, Earth spun quietly — unaware of the gods watching its skies.

The dragons hovered just beyond perception, unseen in the auroras and eclipses. They did not descend. Not yet.

For now, they searched.

Not with sight, but with soul.

The White Dragon's gaze fell upon a soft, radiant aura near the ocean's edge — a gentle light, unwavering and kind. It pulsed like a leaf holding sunlight, and a breeze that chose where it belonged.

"That one… endures."

Elsewhere, the Black Dragon stirred. In the heart of chaos, among fire, noise, struggle — it saw a deep crimson aura, wild and unchecked, coiled in fury and resistance.

"And that one… burns."

They did not know names. Not yet.

But they felt it — the unmistakable echo of their heirs.

Beneath the Core

Far below the surface, deeper than the sea or stone, the lion's soul stirred.

It had been asleep since the fall of the gods. Curled in golden stillness in the molten core of Earth, the Lion had no need for time.

But it felt the tremble.

A distant pressure. Two ancient forces… approaching.

Its breath shuddered once through the core — not in fear, but in recognition.

Still, it did not awaken.

Not yet.

The Promise of War

In the skies above, the dragons began their descent.

"We've found the world."

"Now we find the ones worthy of our rage."

The stars above Earth blinked.

The Lion slept.

And the Soulbound… had not yet heard their names.

To be continued