Kael Stormborn wasn't supposed to be in the forest.
Especially not this far past the warding stones, where the trees grew too tall, the shadows too thick, and the birds fell eerily silent.
But rules had never sat well with Kael.
He crouched low behind a thornbush, brushing a strand of unruly dark hair from his eyes. His slingshot rested in his hand, aimed at a fat grouse pecking at the roots of an old tree. Just one more clean shot, and he'd have dinner for his uncle and himself.
Snap.
The twig broke under his boot.
The grouse exploded into the air with a shriek.
"Blasted—" Kael muttered, slamming the slingshot against his leg in frustration. That would've been the first real catch all week.
He stood and looked around. The forest here was unfamiliar—thicker, darker. He hadn't meant to wander this far, but tracking the bird had led him deep into a part of the Wildergrove he'd never seen before.
And that's when he saw it.
A glimmer.
Just a flicker of red-gold, like firelight dancing through the trees.
Kael's curiosity flared. He pushed aside a curtain of hanging moss and stepped into a clearing that felt… different. The air was warmer. Still. The very ground seemed to hum beneath his boots.
In the center of the clearing sat a stone pedestal, cracked and covered in ivy.
And on it lay an egg.
It wasn't like any egg he'd ever seen—black and glossy, almost like polished obsidian, with faint glowing lines running across it like veins of molten metal. It pulsed softly, as though alive.
Kael's breath caught.
He looked around. No nest. No beast. No sign that anything—anyone—had been here in years.
He should've turned back. He should've run. That's what Uncle Rurik always said—if it looks like magic, leave it alone.
But Kael stepped forward.
Something deep in his chest tugged at him. The closer he got, the warmer the air became. The hum turned into a quiet thrumming in his ears, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat.
He reached out.
And the moment his fingers touched the shell, fire exploded behind his eyes.
Visions. Wings. Sky. Flames.
A roar so ancient it felt like the sound of the earth cracking open.
Kael stumbled back, gasping—but the egg didn't fall. It floated. Lifted off the pedestal, spinning in the air.
And then… a crack.
A hairline fracture split across the shell.
No way, Kael whispered, stumbling to his knees.
The egg split open with a flash of blinding light—and from the shards, a creature emerged. Small—barely larger than a fox—but with wings, claws, and black scales that shimmered with the heat of embers.
It blinked at Kael with glowing orange eyes.
Then it opened its mouth, let out a tiny, high-pitched screech—
—and promptly sneezed a puff of smoke in his face.
Kael coughed. The dragon blinked again, tilted its head, and crawled up into his lap.
"You're joking," Kael said, staring at the baby dragon curled against his chest.
It purred like a cat.
Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded—one he recognized. Searchers. Someone knew he'd gone past the boundary.
Kael stood, cradling the dragon, heart racing.
He hadn't just found trouble.
He'd found destiny.