Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

It started with a sound.

Not loud. Not violent.

Just a low shift beneath the bones of the world, like something heavy had turned over in its sleep.

Lindarion stopped walking.

Ashwing hadn't moved, but the air around him had changed. There was pressure now, thick and sharp, not from heat, from hunger.

Not physical, not the kind that could be solved with meat or firewood. This was the kind of hunger that reached in every direction at once.

The dragon's chest rose slowly. Wings spread. Then the air started bending. Lindarion felt it brush against his skin, pull at the edges of his coat. Not wind. Mana.

It peeled away from the forest in strands. From the snow. From the trees. From the stones. It lifted off the ground like it had forgotten what weight was. It wasn't chaotic. It wasn't desperate.

It was obedient.

It all moved toward Ashwing.

Ashwing inhaled once, deep, slow, steady and the mana flowed straight into him like he was built for it.

Lindarion stepped back once, only once. His own core thudded against his ribs, like it recognized something it wasn't ready for.

He pulled it down. Pushed it back. He didn't flare. Didn't respond. He wasn't part of this.

Ashwing's body responded to the pull instantly. His limbs thickened, claws digging deeper into the dirt. Ridges along his spine split and re-formed into jagged, armored plates.

His tail stretched, curled once, then snapped flat again. Muscles flexed under scale.

Wings doubled in size.

Not like fabric unfolding.

Like something that had always been meant to be that wide was just now being allowed.

No roar. No cry. No struggle.

He didn't look like he was in pain.

He looked like he was finally done pretending to be small.

Lindarion watched the transformation in silence.

Not awed.

Not afraid.

Just still.

'This is what you were hiding. Even from yourself.'

He heard Lira behind him shift slightly. Not stepping forward. Just adjusting her stance. He didn't look at her. He didn't need to. She'd seen enough to understand what was happening. The question was whether she could accept it.

Ashwing lowered his head.

No longer at eye level.

Now he towered. A full-grown dragon.

Wings tucked tighter against his body as the mana finally stopped flowing. The forest fell back into itself, quieter than before. Emptier. He had taken more than just ambient energy. He had eaten the pressure that held the space together.

And now he stood there like he'd been made for this moment.

Lindarion stepped forward again.

Ashwing didn't react, but his eyes followed burning gold, deeper now, almost metallic in the low light.

Lindarion placed a hand against his snout.

The scale was warm. Solid. Not hot, not burning, not unstable.

Stable.

Controlled.

But under that surface was weight. Not in mass—in presence. He could feel it in his palm. Every thread of energy that made up Ashwing was coiled like it was waiting for something.

'You're not a hatchling anymore. You're not something I can carry. You're something that could level half a city if you stop trying not to.'

He didn't pull his hand away.

Ashwing stayed completely still.

Behind him, Lira finally spoke.

"You knew this would happen….?"

Her voice wasn't sharp.

Wasn't accusing.

It was flat. Careful. Testing.

Lindarion didn't answer right away.

Not because he didn't have one.

Because he wasn't sure what kind of answer would actually matter.

He turned, met her eyes.

"I knew something was coming," he said. "I didn't know it would be this."

She nodded once.

Not in agreement.

Just confirmation.

Like she'd already decided something about him. Maybe a while ago. Maybe tonight.

"Can you control him?"

"No."

He saw the twitch in her jaw. Not panic.

Preparation.

"But he listens."

She didn't speak again.

Didn't need to.

He turned back to Ashwing.

The dragon hadn't moved.

Still watching. Still steady.

Still quiet.

'You're waiting for direction huh…'

It wasn't a comforting thought.

Lindarion exhaled through his nose. The cold stung less now, but not because the temperature had changed.

Because they had.

His mana core had quieted, but not from effort.

From caution.

Void stayed still.

Divine didn't twitch.

Nothing surfaced.

Which meant they were either safe, or waiting for something worse.

He lowered his hand and stepped away. Ashwing's head followed him for a breath, then returned to neutral.

Lira remained still. Watching the dragon the way one watches fire, not afraid, just unwilling to blink.

"We're not hiding him anymore," she said.

Lindarion didn't argue.

There was no point.

Ashwing's breath curled in the air. No flame. Just warmth.

He wasn't burning the forest down.

But now the forest knew he could.

—

Ashwing didn't move.

That should've been comforting.

It wasn't.

He stood there like a fortress waiting for war, wings tucked tight, eyes unblinking. Not aggressive.

Just… watching. He had the energy of someone who'd just discovered they were invincible and hadn't decided what to do with it yet.

Lindarion crouched in front of him and kept his voice level. "Sit."

Ashwing blinked.

Nothing happened.

He repeated it. Slower this time, with more intention. "Sit."

Still nothing.

'Okay. So verbal commands are officially useless.'

He sighed and stood, brushing dirt off his hands like that made a difference. It didn't. Half the ground around them was still scorched bare from the mana draw. What hadn't melted looked like it regretted surviving.

Lira leaned against a dead tree a few steps back, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Which meant she was judging him. Silently. Thoroughly. Probably already forming a Plan B that ended with Lindarion buried under a dragon corpse.

He turned back to Ashwing and held up both hands. "Okay. Let's try something new."

He focused.

Not hard. Not deep. Just enough to nudge.

Fire first, easy, shallow, familiar. A flicker across his fingertips, barely there. Ashwing's pupils widened slightly. He tilted his head.

So that was a yes.

Next came a mental push. Not a word, not an image. Just intent. The feeling of down. Of resting. Stillness.

Ashwing's tail twitched. His wings shifted once, and then—

He sat.

Slowly.

Not because he understood.

Because he sensed what Lindarion wanted.

'So it's empathy-based control. Fantastic. I can't even manage my own feelings, and now I'm driving a dragon through vibes.'

Behind him, Lira made a small sound. Not a laugh. Not exactly. But she didn't stop him either, which felt like progress.

Ashwing's gaze followed his every move. His breathing had changed too, less shallow, more regulated.

There was a rhythm to it now. Like he wasn't waiting to react. Just waiting to learn.