Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

Lira didn't talk.

She walked.

That was answer enough.

Ashwing stayed close to his side. Lira paced behind, always on the edge of reach. Not a guard. Not a shadow. Just there.

Lindarion kept his eyes forward.

'She's not here to stop me.'

That should've felt like a win.

It didn't.

It felt like something was being assigned. Not chosen.

He ducked a low branch. Ice cracked underfoot.

They didn't light a torch. No point.

Ashwing's body gave off just enough heat to see shapes. Nothing warm. Just shapes.

His stomach ached again. Not hunger. Something lower than that.

He checked his breath. Still steady. Mana holding.

Void hadn't flickered since the last time. That was good.

He glanced back.

Lira's gaze wasn't on him.

It was on Ashwing.

Her eyes were narrowed. Focused.

She didn't trust the dragon.

He didn't blame her.

'You and me both.'

He looked forward again.

The path wasn't clear, but he remembered the turns.

A river crossed east past the ridge. An old shrine sat two miles beyond that. Barely a ruin now.

He aimed for it.

Not because it was safe.

Because it was empty.

He heard her voice again. Low.

"You always planned to leave huh."

Not a question.

He didn't look back.

"I always planned not to die here and get people in my own trouble."

Another step.

Lira's boots crunched behind him. Precise. No drag. No stumble.

"You're still half-broken."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be."

Lindarion smiled at that.

Just barely.

'That's the first thing you've said that sounded like care.'

He didn't say it out loud.

Didn't want to hear how it sounded.

Silence again.

A clean one.

Ashwing huffed softly. He didn't like the cold, but he didn't complain.

They kept walking.

No one asked where they were going.

No one asked why.

—

They didn't stop.

By the time the village was gone behind them, there was nothing but frost and trees.

No lamps. No road. Just quiet.

Ashwing moved ahead now. Bigger. Confident. He made a path by heat alone. Snow thinned where he walked.

Lira stayed close. Not beside. Not behind. Just… in orbit. Like she wanted to see what direction he'd snap when things broke.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder. The pack was too light. Not enough food. Not enough gear. It wouldn't matter long.

'We'll have to steal or kill something soon. Probably both.'

He didn't mind the thought. That worried him more than it should have.

Ashwing paused at a bend in the trees.

Growled once.

Low.

Lindarion felt it in his ribs.

Nothing ahead.

But something had passed here. Recently.

He looked at Lira.

She already had a dagger in one hand. Not raised. Just ready.

She didn't say anything.

Didn't need to.

They moved again.

Three hours. Maybe four. The dark didn't shift much. Just got heavier.

Eventually they found what he was looking for.

Not a shrine anymore.

Just a pile of stone with a broken arch, half-buried in old snow and wild roots.

Ashwing circled it once.

Then curled in a half-ring and lowered himself to the ground.

No growl.

No warning.

He was done for now.

Lindarion sat near the arch. Not touching it. Just watching the edge of the trees.

Lira crouched nearby.

Still holding the blade.

"You planning to rest?"

"Eventually."

"I'll take first watch."

"Who said I was sleeping?"

"You will," she said. "Or you'll fall over."

He didn't argue.

She was probably right.

He leaned back against the cold stone.

Felt the weight in his chest.

Not emotion.

Mana.

Tight. Compressed. Restless.

Still no Void. That was good.

Still no Divine. That was better.

He looked at Ashwing.

The dragon's eyes were already closed, but one claw stayed half-curled, twitching now and then.

'You're growing too fast.'

He didn't say it.

Because the dragon already knew.

He shut his eyes.

Not sleep.

Not yet.

Just—

'One more second.'

—

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

Tight. Not panicked. But hard enough to mean something.

He opened his eyes.

Lira.

Kneeling.

Expression unchanged.

Her voice low.

"He changed."

That was all she said.

He was on his feet in the next second.

No boots laced. No coat. Didn't matter.

Ashwing wasn't where he'd left him.

He was thirty feet back, standing near the edge of the broken arch.

Bigger.

Twice the size. Maybe more.

Wings stretched.

Tail longer.

Back lined with jagged ridges.

Head taller than Lindarion's chest now.

Eyes—

Still gold.

Still his.

But deeper.

Slitted pupils narrowed as they locked on him.

No growl.

Just breath. Heavy.

Measured.

Steam rolled off his sides.

Not hot.

Just dense.

The snow around him was gone. Melted clean.

Lindarion stepped forward once.

Ashwing didn't move.

Didn't blink.

He was waiting.

Lira didn't follow.

He could feel her hesitation now. Not fear.

Judgment.

Risk assessment.

He kept walking.

Ashwing dipped his head slowly.

Just a few inches.

Recognition.

Not submission.

Lindarion exhaled.

'Still in there.'

The dragon closed his wings.

Lowered himself.

Muscles coiled tighter than before. Not for a fight.

Just from pressure.

He was holding back without being told to.

That scared Lindarion more than if he hadn't.

He crouched.

Met Ashwing's gaze.

The dragon blinked once. Slowly.

'You knew this was coming.'

Ashwing didn't answer. Of course he didn't.

But he didn't deny it either.

Lira stepped closer. Stopped a few paces behind.

Her voice was even.

"How long has he been changing?"

Lindarion didn't look back.

"A while."

"You didn't tell anyone."

"No."

She didn't respond.

He reached out.

Rested a hand against Ashwing's side.

The scale was harder now. Not sharp. But solid.

Alive in a way most living things weren't.

'You're not a hatchling anymore.'

The dragon didn't move.

But Lindarion felt the pulse again.

Not mana.

Not fire.

Something older.

He stayed still.

Let it pass.

Lira shifted behind him.

"If the villagers had seen this—"

"They didn't."

"They might."

He stood.

Ashwing didn't follow.

Just watched.

Waiting again.

Like he'd go where told.

Or burn whatever he was pointed at.

Lindarion's throat felt dry.

He didn't swallow.

Didn't say anything.

He turned.

Walked past Lira.

She stepped aside.

Didn't stop him.

Didn't speak.

Because whatever came next—

They were already past the point of arguing.