Chapter One – The Boy Who Dreamed of Fire
**
Kael dreamed of burning again.
He stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking a city he did not recognize. Towers of white stone pierced the sky, their banners snapping in a wind that carried the scent of smoke. Below, people ran through narrow streets like ants fleeing a kicked mound.
Above them, something vast and terrible circled.
He could feel the wind under his wings.
When he opened his mouth, flame poured out—gold and violent, swallowing rooftops, melting stone like wax. The heat did not hurt him. It sang in his veins.
Then came the sound.
A horn—long, mournful, and filled with rage.
From the distant hills, black arrows streaked into the sky. One struck his wing. Pain exploded through him, sharp and real. He roared, the sound shaking the heavens—
And he fell.
Kael woke with a gasp.
The forge was still glowing.
He lay on the wooden cot in the back of Master Harlan’s smithy, sweat soaking his shirt. The early morning air was cold, but his skin burned as though he had slept too close to the furnace.
Again, he thought.
The dreams had been coming more often.
“You planning on sleeping through sunrise?” Master Harlan’s voice boomed from the front of the shop. “Iron doesn’t hammer itself, boy.”
Kael swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood. His muscles ached, but beneath the ache was something else—a restless energy, like coals waiting for breath.
He stepped into the main workshop. Sparks leapt from the anvil as Harlan struck a glowing blade. The big man’s beard was singed at the edges, as always, and his arms were thick as oak branches.
“You look like death,” Harlan muttered, not looking up.
“Just didn’t sleep well.”
“Dreams again?”
Kael froze.
Harlan finally glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “You talk in your sleep. Like you’re fighting something.”
Kael forced a shrug. “Probably just the stories you tell about dragon hunts.”
Harlan snorted. “Those aren’t stories. My grandfather saw the last one fall.”
Kael had heard it a hundred times. The last dragon shot from the sky by imperial ballistae. Its corpse burned for three days in the capital square.
Dragons were monsters. That was the lesson carved into every child’s mind.
So why did dreaming of them feel like remembering?
“Enough dawdling,” Harlan said. “We’ve orders to fill. Imperial patrol’s riding through today.”
At that, Kael stiffened.
Imperial soldiers rarely came this far north unless something was wrong.
The morning passed in the rhythm of hammer and flame. Kael worked the bellows, feeding the fire until it roared. The heat washed over him—and instead of flinching, he leaned into it.
The fire responded.
It flared higher.
Harlan glanced at the forge. “Easy!”
“I didn’t…” Kael began, but the flames had already settled.
He swallowed.
It had been like that for years. When he felt angry or afraid, fire seemed to listen.
By midday, the sound of hooves echoed down the village road.
Kael stepped outside.
Five riders in black-and-gold armor approached, the imperial crest emblazoned on their cloaks. At their center rode a woman in darker plate, her helm tucked beneath her arm. Her hair was silver—not with age, but like polished steel.
Captain, Kael guessed.
The villagers bowed their heads as the patrol stopped in the square.
“We’re searching for a fugitive,” the captain announced. Her voice carried effortlessly. “A practitioner of forbidden arts. He was last seen in this region.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Forbidden arts meant sorcery.
Kael’s pulse quickened.
One of the soldiers dismounted and began questioning villagers. Another entered the tavern. The captain’s sharp gaze swept across faces—lingering on each person just a second too long.
Then her eyes met Kael’s.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
Her expression changed—just slightly. Interest.
“You,” she said.
Kael’s stomach dropped.
“Come here.”
He obeyed, forcing his legs not to shake.
“What’s your name?”
“Kael Ardyn, ma’am.”
“Occupation?”
“Blacksmith’s apprentice.”
She studied him. Too closely.
“Hold out your hand.”
“Why?”
A soldier shifted beside her. “Do as commanded.”
Kael extended his hand.
The captain removed a small crystal sphere from her belt pouch. It shimmered faintly. She held it over his palm.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the crystal glowed.
Not faintly.
Blindingly.
The light burst outward in a pulse of molten gold.
Gasps filled the square.
The captain dropped the sphere as if it had burned her. It struck the ground and cracked.
“Impossible,” she whispered.
Kael stared at his hand.
Heat crawled beneath his skin. Not painful—alive.
“Seize him!” the captain shouted.
Two soldiers lunged forward.
Something inside Kael snapped.
The fear. The confusion. The memory of falling from the sky.
No.
The air around him ignited.
Flames spiraled outward in a roaring vortex, forcing the soldiers back. The ground blackened beneath his boots. Villagers screamed and scattered.
Kael stared at the fire whirling around his body.
He wasn’t burning.
He was commanding it.
The captain drew her sword, its blade etched with glowing runes. “Dragon-blood,” she hissed. “I knew the signs were real.”
Dragon—
An arrow of memory pierced him: wings. Sky. Rage.
“I don’t understand!” Kael shouted.
“You will,” she replied coldly. “In chains.”
She charged.
Instinct took over.
Kael thrust his hand forward.
A torrent of flame exploded from his palm, slamming into the captain’s blade. The runes flared as she absorbed the blast, boots digging furrows into the dirt.
He hadn’t meant to do that.
He hadn’t meant—
Another soldier rushed him from the side.
Kael turned, and the fire followed like a living thing. The man’s armor glowed red-hot before he dove away with a scream.
Smoke filled the square.
Harlan’s voice cut through it. “Run, boy!”
Kael hesitated.
If he stayed, they’d burn the village to get him.
The captain advanced through the smoke, eyes blazing with something like triumph. “You cannot escape what you are.”
Maybe not.
But he could run from her.
Kael spun and sprinted toward the forest beyond the village. Arrows whistled past him, hissing as they struck trees.
“After him!” the captain roared.
Branches whipped his face as he plunged into the woods. His lungs burned—but not from exhaustion. From power.
The fire inside him was growing.
He didn’t know how long he ran. Long enough for the village sounds to fade. Long enough for the shouts behind him to vanish.
At last, he stumbled into a clearing and fell to his knees.
Silence.
Only the wind in the trees.
His hands trembled.
Dragon-blood.
It couldn’t be real. Dragons were dead.
Weren’t they?
A low rumble rolled across the sky.
Thunder, he thought—
But the clouds above were clear.
The rumble came again.
Closer.
Kael slowly lifted his head.
From beyond the treetops, something vast moved against the horizon. A shadow crossing the sun.
Wings.
His breath caught.
The shape circled once, impossibly high.
Watching.
Then it vanished into the distant mountains.
Kael’s heart pounded—not with fear.
With recognition.
“I’m not alone,” he whispered.
Far away, in the direction of the capital, a horn sounded.
Long. Mournful. Filled with rage.
The hunt had begun.
