บท 4: Chapter 4: The Summoning
The sun rose over Pendragon Castle, casting golden light across the sprawling grounds. Arthur Pendragon II stood in his chambers, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He was dressed simply today, his usual royal finery replaced with a dark tunic and sturdy boots. The previous night's revelations about his father's lineage still weighed on his mind, but they also stirred something deep within him: a need to prove himself.
He had spent much of the night poring over books, searching for answers about his Dumbledore heritage and its connection to phoenixes. The idea of summoning one—a creature of legend and renewal—felt like a way to bridge the gap between the two halves of his identity.
The Heights Tower was the tallest structure in Pendragon Castle, its platform reaching high into the clouds. Arthur had only been there once before, as a child, and the memory of its dizzying height still lingered.
He ascended the spiral staircase, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. When he finally stepped onto the platform, the wind whipped around him, carrying the scent of the sea and the distant sound of gulls.
Arthur closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He raised his hands, letting the energy within him rise. His magic responded, swirling like a storm around him.
"Come to me," he whispered, his voice steady but urgent. "By the bond of my blood, I summon thee, phoenix of flame and rebirth."
The air grew still, and for a moment, Arthur felt a flicker of hope. But as the seconds stretched into minutes, nothing happened. The sky remained empty.
Arthur clenched his fists, his shoulders sagging with defeat. He had given everything to that moment, and still, he had failed.
As he descended the stairs, a memory surfaced—something he had read in one of the books. A phoenix will only come when a Dumbledore is in peril. The words echoed in his mind, and an idea began to take shape. It was reckless, perhaps even foolish, but Arthur was nothing if not determined.
He turned on his heel and ran back to the platform. Without pausing to reconsider, he sprinted toward the edge and leapt into the open air.
For a moment, there was only silence. The world seemed to slow, the wind rushing past his ears as the ground below loomed closer.
And then it happened.
Arthur felt something seize his shoulders—sharp claws, strong yet gentle. He opened his eyes to see enormous wings beating against the air, carrying him upward. His heart raced as he realized he was flying, soaring over the castle and its grounds.
The creature's form was a blend of wind and flesh, its scales shimmering like silver and emerald in the sunlight. Its eyes, bright and intelligent, met Arthur's, and he felt an unspoken connection between them.
With a sudden burst of speed, the creature banked toward the castle, hurtling through the air and straight toward Arthur's bedroom window.
"Wait—!" Arthur barely had time to cry out before they crashed through the glass, landing in a heap on the floor.
Groaning, Arthur pushed himself up, brushing shards of glass from his clothes. The creature perched on his bedpost, its wings folded neatly against its sides. Its presence filled the room with an air of power and mystery.
Arthur exhaled, extending his hand toward the shattered window. He closed his eyes and focused, letting his magic flow through him. "Reparo," he said firmly. The shards of glass trembled, lifting from the floor and reassembling themselves into the window frame, good as new.
But before he could catch his breath, a loud CRASH shattered the window again. Arthur turned to see a smaller figure dart into the room—a tiny dragon, no larger than a housecat, with crimson scales and a playful demeanor.
Arthur stared, stunned. "A dragon?" he muttered, approaching cautiously.
The larger creature, still perched on the bedpost, inclined its head toward Arthur, speaking in a low, resonant voice. "Not a phoenix. A dragon."
Arthur blinked. "But why? I summoned a phoenix. I'm part Dumbledore. Isn't that supposed to mean—"
"Your Pendragon blood runs stronger," the dragon interrupted, its voice calm but firm. "The magic of your ancestors calls to dragons, not phoenixes."
Arthur sank into a chair, the weight of the revelation settling over him. "So, I'll never summon a phoenix?"
The dragon tilted its head, a glimmer of amusement in its eyes. "Why would you need a phoenix when you have us? Dragons are more than fire and fury. We are strength, wisdom, and loyalty. We are your true legacy."
Arthur looked from the larger dragon to the smaller one, his initial disappointment giving way to awe. He had not summoned what he expected, but perhaps he had found something even greater.
The tiny dragon chirped, nuzzling against Arthur's hand. He laughed, stroking its warm scales.
"All right, then," he said, his resolve returning. "If dragons are my legacy, I'll honour it."
The larger dragon let out a low, approving growl. "Good. You'll need us in the days to come."
Arthur nodded, a new sense of purpose filling him. He had taken his first step not only as a Pendragon but as a bridge between the old and the new, between fire and wind. And he was ready for whatever came next.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง