Dragonkind does not fear many things.

The first one that may instigate apprehension is The Grand Test of Power. Every dragonling goes through this rigorous examination and the scars that remain are not always visible.

While putting barely-adults into quite sinister situations would usually be frowned upon - even among the race which boasts of the strict and prideful upbringing of the young - The Grand Test has always been a must, for the Gods had declared it an irrefutable verdict of Dragons' crimes.

Visions.

These too can strike fear into the hearts of the fallen rulers of the clear sky. Especially if they bring bad news. That may be an explanation for reverence seen in the eyes of townsfolk while their gazes trace the members of the Oracle clan. Even Vid... for whom everyone knew he couldn't see.

Other cases of fear include the Gods too. However, what currently makes Plamen doubt his own eyes is the plain fact that there's a quarter of the Zmajeva Zvijezda townsfolk benched on the outskirts of the testing grounds, paling like the Goddess Nužda herself has made an appearance.

Just what the heck is going on? Plamen thinks as he observes the amassed bunch fearfully shuffling their feet while hushed whispers ring with appalled surprise.

He hears a whispered "The Red Ancient..." and looks around the three of them. Everything looks normal; the beginning of the Strašna Šuma looks the same as when he entered it two days prior, with evergreen treeline and dirt paths peeking through the foliage. A lone cloud blocking the sunlight floats to the east, but the hills surrounding the area are glowing vivid green under the morning sunlight easily avoiding the obstacle hovering in the sky.

He looks to the south and there he sees it! A red miasma floating in one spot, engorged with pure but sinister magic. Comprehension laced with fear spreads through his body now that he's aware of it.

It's the Eye.

It must have followed them all the way out here. No... It came with them, he realizes. It must have brought them to this place, but... Is the Test over?

Those hushed whispers become louder and less stifled until people are almost yelling in panicked motion.

At that moment, he feels fingers curling around his wrist. Vid yanks him a bit to his side and whispers, "Don't say anything about the prophecy." Then he turns his head to Zima. "You too."

"Why?" Plamen whispers back.

"Just a hunch," Vid admits bashfully, looking a bit pale in the face as he watches the crowd.

A man steps forward, his hard-set expression seems almost elated, yellow eyes sparkling with power and gold-streaked hair shimmering under the early-morning sunlight.

Plamen recognizes him - Zlatan of the Seer Clan, the highest-ranking Oracle and Vid's father. Also, one of a kind asshole, at that.

He can still remember the man's ruthless and malicious words spat in his direction when Yana started training him a few years ago. Though, he feels those words weren't what they were supposed to be, possibly a diversion of some kind because the man's eyes had never held the same annoyed look as the other dragons' eyes do when trained on him. One could say, those eyes felt worse.

Even now, it's like being an object, a trophy, not a person.

It's not just him, Zlatan's hungry gaze falls on Plamen's companions; first on Zima with a sparkle of sour satisfaction, and then on Vid who curls into himself, trembling arms wrapped around his middle ...and Plamen feels an urgency to protect the heterochromatic boy.

Plamen plans to step forward, with no distinctive plan in his mind, just to shield Vid from whatever is supposed to come out from that wretched man's opened mouth—

"Good work, you three!" a very familiar voice hollers with confidence dripping out.

His eyes snap to the person who spoke and he feels himself deflate. He's been strung with so much tension and only one person could defuse it.

Yana...

She approaches them to stand at the same distance as Zlatan does, though ignoring his waspish glare sent her way, her strong physique seemingly unbeatable by anything, at least, in Plamen's eyes.

Her light brown skin makes a striking contrast to the silvery-white locks rising in an untamed halo. As far as he could remember, Yana has always been a mix of two opposites – light and dark, gentle and rough, excited and calm, happy and sad.

The smile on her face can be mistaken for tenderness, broken only by a vicious scar pulling the left side of her face and making it look manic, something Plamen's would bet his both arms on being the case rather than any kind of misinterpreted softness.

The familiarity of it makes it easier to breathe, to think, to relax, and, for now, it's enough.

Dark brown eyes are the only ones holding a gentle sparkle and Plamen knows she's proud of him, though, no matter how many times she has told him that, he'd never really believed it until now.

"Three finalists stand before us - three Champions have risen!" she exclaims, loud and piercing, the conviction and finality of her words enough to make the onlookers shut up.

And Plamen finally, finally grasps it: he did it! He passed the test.

No... They did it. Three of them, just like Yana said, three Champions have risen.

***

It's early afternoon and the Sun has just passed its zenith. The sun rays don't manage to find their way to the windows of this chamber. At this point of the day, they never do from the west but the room is lit up with the light from the outside.

Plamen sits on a lone bed with an elaborate woodwork frame and silken sheets. All the furniture seems over the top, but it's rather unsurprising considering he's currently located in the main Castle.

As Yana declared them Champions – something that is part of the tradition and is usually done by a high ranking official – the red miasma following them shook and sparkled until careering toward the tree of them. He tried to put on a shield but failed, and ultimately, the red magic settled on his skin, forming a reddish dragon-like pattern on the upper side of his hand. Vid and Zima fared the same.

The Armsguard then came and took them to the Castle. Yana followed, offering reassurances in case they were surprised.

"That's how it is done. You get the special treatment like you're a king or something," she said with a smile. "The mark of a Dragon King ensures it."

He didn't really register much of happenings back then, having been exhausted, barely standing upright after five days of constant vigilance and little to none sleep.

The test had been brutal; at first, there were no clues where to go, just the forest surrounding him. The rest of the applicants were the first hurdle, but he managed to lose them almost immediately which made him realize that not all of them 'started' from the same spot. Yes, they entered the testing grounds from the same place, but just like the enchanted grounds spit out different obstacles at the same time, it probably transported them to various starting points.

Now he realizes that never once in five days had he felt any kind of sign of Zima or Vid. Not until the end.

The first four days he spent looking for clues, guarding his back, clawing through all the nasty things the grounds rewarded him with.

He shudders remembering those paltry gray creatures with their yellowed, sharp fangs glistening in the moonlight every time they shrieked without abandon. Štriga. Those creatures are called Štriga, awful in their appearance, smelling like death, both acrid and sweet, making his stomach roll with nausea.

Once defeated, they faded away, revealing the illusion behind their materialization. But he knows that if they managed to land a hit on him, those claws would have ripped him apart.

He had managed to stay alive using his quick wit, the reflexes beaten into him during rigorous training sessions - courtesy of Yana's sadistic streak, though he's quite grateful for that - and burning instinct shimmering inside his body, guiding him through thick and thin.

The knowledge of hunt had been very useful just like the exercises of conscious sleeping. Yana had prepared him better than well enough and he can't be more grateful.

Going through the test, step by step, remembering and storing useful info is now done and Plamen decides to get up to get himself that plate of dark red berries waiting for him at the table.

He doesn't feel like eating any of the other offered dishes. Shifting his eyes over the room, he realizes that the extravagance of the interior is much more intricate than he thought. A tinge of gold on the serving plates, shiny gemstones embedded deep into the wood almost everywhere, ornaments hanging here and there. Enough bullshit for him to hums scoffingly.

He looks at the red marks on his hands, silhouettes of dragons twinkling with a faint hum of magic, seemingly mocking him where he stands.

He was just so tired when they arrived that he didn't even notice where he was being led. Champions are treated like they're special, though he had expected there to be just one champion, not three! All the stories have indicated to that conclusion, yet there had been three rooms prepared for them, and no one – not even townsfolk – had been even slightly surprised by the outcome.

What's the catch?

A loud yelp and a sound of something smacking the floor, barely muffled by the door, brought him out of his musings.

He chews the berry inside his mouth before sighing because there's only one person who can make that kind of ruckus without much effort.

Depositing the plate back to its original place and grabbing a handful of fruits, Plamen goes toward the origin of the sound. The chestnut door isn't locked and open with a light touch.

The scene that awaits him isn't unexpected, not in the least. Vid being sprawled on the carpeted floor, massaging his rump, is honestly what he's expected to see. Who else can fall in a place where there are no obstacles?

He pops another berry in his mouth and arches a brow at the clown in front of his feet.

"Ah, Plamen," Vid says, rushing to get up and almost lands on his nose when his feet trip one over the other. "I was looking for you." He is still barely balancing while getting up, hand leaning on the floor decorated with the same red mark as those seen on Plamen's hands.

Plamen chews slowly, letting the silence do its thing. Vid gets even more flustered so it's a bullseye. Vid should really be more confident, even if he is a clutz. 

"Eh," Vid gurgles, almost losing his footing once more but before he can fall in an unsightly manner, Plamen chucks the last of his berries in his mouth and grabs Vid under an arm to get him up. They're of the same height, Plamen notes once Vid is upright. And that unskillfully wrapped bandage is gone so Vid's black hair is free to fall around him like a dark shadow.

"Spectacular," Plamen offers with a droll stare. "You managed to make the whole damned castle aware of us." He frowns. "What were you doing here, anyway?

Vid sputters once before deflating, the good mood out as if someone's blown out a candle. It doesn't last long, he's soon an exuberant self again.

"Looking for you," he answers, shifting his hand so that now he's the one holding Plamen's arm. "Come on. Zima's waiting for us."

Plamen doesn't expect that much strength when Vid tugs him and has to take a step along. Soon after Vid lets him go, and continues down the stone-carved hallway. 

Plamen decides to follow for now. He doesn't really know the outlay of this place so the easiest way to get some answers would be to tag along. There are paintings hanging on the wall on their right; nature, ancient battles, and dragons in flight. All of them painted in dark tones. 

The silence doesn't last long, too. Vid seems quite energetic, especially since he's been shooting wondering looks over his shoulder for the last minute.

"You must have slept quite long."

No, he didn't.

"I didn't," Plamen says, but it sounds like a protest too much for his liking.

Vid stares at him in surprise. "I've been to your room three times before and not once have I heard a sound from it."

"Of course you didn't," Plamen scoffs. "I'm not as loud as someone."

Pink spreads over Vid's cheeks and he sheepishly laughs. "I guess not." A pause and then more chitchat. "I slept the whole morning. Got rested good, but I'm still exhausted." That last sentence is punctured with a yawn. 

They've been walking for more than five minutes and these bloody halls seem to stretch and stretch and stretch, gray stone walls always present, and it seems a bit too quiet for this time of a day.

"I slept an hour, maybe an hour and a half," Plamen offers, not wanting to seem as cold as many think of him to be.

Vid turns so fast, he thinks the guy would get whiplash from it. Hands grab at his shoulders and a serious expression sets on Vid's face. "You need to take care of yourself, your body deserves it."

What in the nine depths of hell? Has Vid worried about him? Is that the reason for this unexpected lecture?

"I couldn't sleep," he says through clenched teeth, easily knocking Vid's hands off of him, and takes off not wanting to closely examine the feelings brought on by the realization someone worried about him.

He notices Vid catching up to him, but ignores him.

"You know, I couldn't sleep too," Vid says.

Is that supposed to make him feel better? He shoots a glance at the other Dragon Heir to see a complicated look on Vid's face, something between anger and acceptance. Both of them take a corner to the left, Plamen more following Vid's marching than anything else.

"It's just horrifying," Vid starts, looking in the distance. "The whole Test. And we weren't even half prepared for it. I know what you think - that I wasn't prepared for the test... I was, my father made sure of it," Vid finishes with a small, sad smile. "Even that wouldn't have been enough if I haven't suddenly seen where I needed to go. It was so scary."

Plamen's eyes grow wide as saucers at that. Did he unlock the sight just for the test? Or has it been there all along but the Oracle clan kept it secret? The former seems more likely, Vid used suddenly in conjunction with seen and, honestly, Plamen just can't imagine Zlatan not bragging with his son having the sight. Nope.

"Can you see what awaits us?" he asks way too eagerly but doesn't have the patience to care about it.

Vid seems startled, shifting dual-colored eyes on Plamen. "Um, not r-really."

"What do you mean 'not really'?

"I can't turn it on on command. It just comes and goes."

Plamen frowns thoughtfully, realizing Vid probably spoke the truth. He doesn't know how sight works, Vid doesn't seem to know too.

They've walked for ten minutes and probably arrived at the other side of the castle when Plamen sees a metal door, much bigger than anything they've passed so far.

"Zima's waiting for us inside," Vid murmurs and grabs the handle.

It seems Plamen's thoughts will have to wait for now.