The flames had died, leaving behind a silence that felt wrong.
Hazel stepped carefully over the cracked threshold of their home, her mother's hand still gripped tightly in hers. Smoke curled lazily in the air, mingling with the scent of charred wood and scorched earth. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a dim orange glow over the ruined village.
The dragons were gone, for now.
Villagers began to emerge one by one, their faces pale and eyes wide with disbelief. Some stood in the streets, simply staring at what remained. Others rushed to each other's sides, confirming who was still alive and who… wasn't.
Hazel's legs trembled as she stood. She'd never seen anything like it, only heard the stories whispered over cooking fires, the warnings passed down through generations. She was twenty now. It was her first cycle. And she prayed it would be her last.
"We can't stay outside for long," her mother said, voice firm. "They may come again. Let's find the others and then go back inside."
Hazel nodded silently.
Just then, a blur of movement caught her eye.
"Hazel!" came a familiar voice.
Lily, her childhood friend, raced toward her. Her hair was disheveled, her dress torn at the hem, but she was alive. Relief flooded Hazel's chest.
They met in a tight hug.
"I thought you were dead," Lily breathed. "The fire hit your side of the village, I saw it from the church steps."
"We were in the cellar," Hazel replied. "The house is damaged, but we're okay."
Lily pulled back to look her in the eye. "Did you see them? The dragons?"
Hazel nodded slowly, a chill settling in her chest. "All three. From the cellar slats. They were huge. The brown one knocked over the baker's shop. The silver one circled the well. But the black one…"
Lily shuddered. "He was the worst. Bigger than the others. He set the eastern fields on fire without even touching them."
"He didn't even look down," Hazel whispered, almost to herself.
Lily nodded quickly. "I don't think he noticed anyone. Just flew over, lighting everything up."
Hazel exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. The black dragon had been terrifying. Yet... there had been something about him. Not just size or presence but control. The other dragons thrashed and roared. But the black one had glided through the sky like a shadow with purpose. Cold. Commanding. Detached.
"He's the king, isn't he?" Hazel asked. "The one from the legends."
"Kaelith," Lily said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They say his name means 'death-fire' in the old tongue."
Hazel's mother interrupted them sharply. "Inside. Both of you. Now."
"But Mama—"
"I said now." Her mother's eyes were locked on the sky, where the last traces of light were fading.
All around them, doors were slamming shut. Those whose homes were destroyed were being ushered into neighbors' cellars or barns. The village had no sirens or guards, but everyone knew: dragons often returned after sunset.
Hazel followed her mother inside, with Lily trailing behind.
The damage to their home was worse than she had realized. Part of the roof had caved in. The windows were shattered. Black scorch marks traced the walls.
"I'll stay here with you," Lily said, glancing around.
Her mother shook her head. "No. Go to your parents. They'll be worried."
Lily hesitated. "I'll come back in the morning."
"Only if there is a morning," Hazel muttered, before she could stop herself.
The cellar was still warm from earlier. They lit a lantern and settled in the corner. Hazel's mother wrapped a blanket around them both, though it did little to push back the fear.
"They'll come again," Hazel whispered.
"Maybe not tonight," her mother replied. "Maybe not again at all."
But neither of them believed that.
Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the broken slats in the roof above. Hazel thought of the dragons flying overhead—their wings cutting through the air like blades, their roars shaking the earth.
She didn't know why they came. No one did. There were no warnings, no reasons, no treasure taken. Just destruction every twenty years. Like they wanted to remind the humans they still ruled the skies.
And yet, something deep in her bones told Hazel this time was different.
Night deepened.
Hazel tossed and turned on the cold stone floor of the cellar, the lantern flickering beside her. Her mother had drifted into a restless sleep, but Hazel couldn't close her eyes.
Her thoughts wouldn't stop.
Why now? Why every twenty years? Why her village?
And most of all… why did the memory of that black dragon, silent and monstrous in the sky, keep returning to her mind?
She shook her head. It didn't matter. He hadn't seen her. None of them had. They'd flown away like they always did.
But still, something gnawed at the back of her mind. A whisper of instinct. A pull she didn't understand.
Hazel wrapped her arms around herself, trying to forget those glowing golden eyes—even though they'd never met hers.
Not yet.