Death was supposed to be the end.
Yet as Kael's vision faded in that final explosion—Amelia's scream ringing in his ears, the heat of the blast searing his skin—he saw light.
"So… this is what they mean by the tunnel," he thought dimly.
Then—a shove.
His newborn lungs gasped. Blinding light resolved into faces. A woman with crimson hair like spilled blood, her golden eyes crinkling with warmth. A man whose arms gleamed with silver scales, his voice a rumble of thunder.
"My little dragon," the woman crooned. Her fingers brushed his cheek—so like Amelia, yet different.
Kael's chest clenched. This isn't right. He tried to speak, to scream, but only a whimper escaped.
Memories flickered like dying embers.
The scent of gunpowder. The weight of a rifle in his hands. Amelia's laugh, bright as sunlight, before the war stole it away.
"Promise me, Kael. After this… we'll live."
His tiny fists clenched. I broke that promise.
Months later, Kael finally understood.
He had been reincarnated—into a world of sword and sorcery, the world Veromere, where dragons walked disguised among men.
And he… was one of them.
Ten Years Later
The secluded village of Eldermist—a hidden sanctuary for dragonkin—had become Kael's home. Though his past memories lingered, he embraced this life.
Then, he met Sylvie.
A whirlwind of energy, with emerald eyes that sparkled like fractured sunlight and a mane of crimson-streaked hair that defied all attempts to tame it. Reckless. Stubborn. Unbearably fearless.
"You're staring again, Kael!" She poked his forehead, grinning.
"You're just annoying," he grumbled—but the traitorous twitch at his lips betrayed him.
They became inseparable. Training under Kael's father. Racing through the mist-laden forests. Dreaming of the world beyond their village's borders.
Born on the same day. Fated to be best friends.
Yet today, Kael couldn't tear his gaze away.
The bright sun shimmered on her wild red hair as she danced across the grass in the park where they always played.
"Kael!" Sylvie huffed, hands on her hips. "Why do you keep looking at me? Is there something on my dress?"
A pause. His lips trembled. His chest ached.
"No. Sorry, Sylvie. You just… remind me of someone I knew a long time ago."
His eyes refused to leave her face. Because if he looked away, she might vanish—like a ghost.
"Hah? When did you meet someone I don't know about?" Sylvie pouted. "That's not fair! I want to meet them too!"
Kael forced a laugh, steering her toward the forest path. "Come on. We've only got five years left before the Coming of Age Ceremony. Let's make the most of it!"
But as Sylvie skipped ahead, his smile faded.
"Sylvie… you look just like her. Like Amelia."
And for the first time in this life—Kael wondered if the gods were mocking him… or offering a second chance.
The Whispering Woods
Sylvie darted ahead of Kael, her boots kicking up dust as she skidded to a stop. She thrust a finger toward the shadowy treeline, her eyes alight with mischief. "Let's explore the forest!"
Kael exhaled, rubbing his temples. "You know we can't—"
"Come on!" Sylvie cut him off, already backing toward the trees. "Just for a minute!" Before he could argue, she spun on her heel and dashed into the undergrowth.
Kael hesitated, then groaned. "Sylvie—!" But she was already gone, swallowed by the foliage. With a resigned sigh, he broke into a jog, chasing after her fleeting figure—a streak of wild energy disappearing into the green.
The Whispering Woods were unlike any other forest in Veromere. The trees here were ancient, their bark etched with faint, glowing runes that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. Legends said they were the remnants of the First Flight, the original dragons who had shaped the world.
Kael had always felt a strange pull toward them.
Now, as he pushed through the thick brush, the air grew heavier, humming with an energy that made his scales prickle.
"Sylvie!" he called again, his voice swallowed by the dense canopy.
No answer.
Then—a flicker of movement.
Sylvie stood before a towering obsidian monolith, half-buried in vines and moss. Its surface shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow, pulsing like a living thing.
"Look, Kael!" she whispered, her fingers outstretched. "It's beautiful!"
A thunderous roar split the air.
"STOP RIGHT THERE, SYLVIE!"
Kael's father, Auther Silver, emerged from the trees, his face a storm of fury and fear. Before the children could react, Auther's form twisted and expanded, scales erupting across his skin as he transformed into his mighty dragon form.
With a single, controlled breath, he unleashed a searing line of fire between Sylvie and the stone, the flames licking hungrily at the undergrowth.
Sylvie stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock. Kael rushed to her side, his heart pounding.
"Father! What's wrong? Why are you so angry?"
Auther's massive dragon form loomed over them, his golden eyes blazing. Then, with a ripple of magic, he shifted back into his human form, his expression still dark with warning. He strode forward, gripping both children by their shoulders, his voice low and urgent.
"You must never come near this stone again. Do you understand?"
Tears welled in Sylvie's eyes as they trudged back toward the village, the weight of Auther's warning heavy in the air. Kael walked beside her, his mind racing with questions.
"Y-your dad was s-so mean!" Sylvie hiccuped, wiping her cheeks.
Kael sighed. "He wasn't mean… just scared. I've never seen him like that before." He hesitated, then nudged her gently. "Hey… tell me the story again. The one about how we met."
Sylvie sniffled, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "W-well… it was when…"
Her voice softened as she began the tale, the memory weaving its comforting spell around them. But even as she spoke, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something far greater—far darker—lurked within the shadows of the Chosmos Stone.
And his father's fear meant it was only the beginning.
Dinner and Secrets
The evening mist curled around the village of Eldermist as Kael and Auther walked Sylvie to her doorstep. The girl was uncharacteristically quiet, her usual fiery energy dimmed by the weight of Auther's warning.
"Tell your father I'll speak with him tomorrow," Auther said, his voice low. Sylvie nodded, scuffing her boot against the ground before slipping inside.
Kael exhaled, watching the door close behind her. "She didn't mean any harm, Dad."
Auther's hand settled on his shoulder, heavy but reassuring. "I know. But some rules aren't meant to be tested."
When they finally reached their own home, the warm glow of the hearth spilled through the windows, and the rich scent of rosemary and roasted meat greeted them. Jenny Silver stood at the dining table, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently—but her golden eyes softened the moment they met Kael's.
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice a mix of sternness and relief. "Dinner is already cold."
Kael ducked his head, sliding into his seat. "Sorry, Mom. I didn't realize it was getting so late."
Jenny's gaze flicked to Auther, her brow arching in silent question. Auther gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head—not now.
Kael pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the steaming bowl of stew Jenny pushed toward him. He took a bite, the flavors rich and comforting, but his mind still churned with questions.
Jenny sighed, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair from Kael's forehead—a gesture so familiar it made his chest tighten. "You're lucky I reheated it. Again."
Auther chuckled, tearing off a piece of bread. "Our son has a talent for missing meals. Must get that from your side of the family."
Jenny scoffed, tossing a crust at him. "Please. The only thing he inherited from you is that stubborn streak."
Kael rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "And the scales, apparently." He flexed his forearm, where faint silver markings shimmered in the firelight—still too underdeveloped for full transformation, but undeniable proof of his lineage.
Jenny's expression softened. "Yes, well. Those at least make you easier to find in the dark."
Auther smirked. "Unless he's hiding in the woods where he shouldn't be."
Kael groaned. "We weren't hiding. Sylvie just—" He caught himself too late.
Jenny's eyes narrowed. "Just what?"
Kael hesitated, glancing at Auther, who suddenly found his stew very interesting.
Jenny leaned forward, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Auther Silver. What did they do?"
Auther cleared his throat. "They… may have wandered near the Chosmos Stone."
Jenny went silent. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the crackling fire. Then—
"Kael." Her voice was calm. Too calm. "You know that place is forbidden."
Kael swallowed. "I know. But Sylvie—"
"No." Jenny's hand covered his, her grip firm but not unkind. "No excuses. That stone isn't just dangerous—it's alive. And until you're old enough to take your true form, you can't risk being near it."
Kael frowned. "But why? What's so—"
"Enough." Auther's voice brooked no argument. "This isn't a discussion for tonight."
Silence settled over the table. Then Jenny sighed, squeezing Kael's hand before releasing it. "Eat. Before it gets cold. Again."
Kael obeyed, but his mind raced. His parents never shut down questions like this. Whatever that stone was, it was worse than he thought.
Auther, sensing his unease, nudged his bowl closer. "You'll understand when you're older."
Jenny smirked. "Or when you stop following Sylvie into trouble."
Kael groaned. "It's not my fault she's impossible to say no to."
Jenny and Auther exchanged a glance—one that held decades of shared amusement, exasperation, and love.
"Oh, we know," Jenny said dryly. "We remember a certain silver-scaled idiot who was just as reckless at your age."
Auther choked on his wine. "I was charming."
"You set a barn on fire."
"Once."
Kael laughed despite himself, the tension easing. This was his family—warm, teasing, fiercely protective. But as the firelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room, he couldn't shake the feeling that something darker lurked just beyond the light.
And his parents were keeping it from him.
The Next Morning
The morning mist still clung to the rooftops of Eldermist when Auther Silver knocked on the door of the Everglen household. The scent of freshly brewed pine-needle tea and warm hearth bread drifted through the open window—Synthia had always been an early riser.
William Everglen answered, his broad frame filling the doorway. His emerald-green eyes, so like his daughter's, were shadowed with concern. "Auther. Come in."
Inside, Synthia was already pouring tea, her silver-streaked hair tied hastily back. She didn't turn around, but her shoulders were tense. "Sylvie's still asleep," she said quietly. "Best keep it that way."
Auther took a seat by the fire, the warmth doing little to ease the weight in his chest. "I caught Kael and Sylvie at the Chosmos Stone last night."
William's mug hit the table with a thud. He leaned back on the sofa, dragging his hands down his face. "Gods above. That should never happen again."
Synthia exhaled sharply, turning to stoke the fire. "I'll make another pot. Something tells me this will take a while." Her voice was light, but the iron grip she kept on the poker betrayed her.
Silence settled over the room, thick as the steam curling from their cups.
Finally, Auther spoke again, his voice low. "You and Synthia are the best merchants we have. I need you to find a concealment stone—strong enough to mask the Chosmos Stone's energy."
William's jaw tightened. "Do you have any idea how rare those are? It could take months. Four, if we're lucky."
Synthia set the kettle down with deliberate care. "And if we go, who watches Sylvie? She can't come with us—not on a trip like this."
Auther didn't hesitate. "Jenny and I will keep her safe. You have my word."
There was no answer, and William was still unsure. Then Auther whispered, "You've felt the dreams it sends, William. If the children had touched it..."
Memories Flashed Through William's Mind
A thousand years in the past.
William, Arthur, and a young girl sprinted through the sun-dappled woods, their laughter ringing between the ancient trees. The girl skidded to a sudden halt, her breathless giggles dying in her throat.
"What's that thing?"
She pointed at a jagged stone jutting from the earth, its surface pulsing a deep, unnatural red under the sunlight. Arthur stepped closer, hesitation lining his voice. "I don't know… I only visit you guys a few times a year." His eyes flicked to William. "Maybe it's that cursed stone Dad warned us about. We should—"
But the girl was already moving, her curiosity burning too bright to ignore. "Let's just take a closer look!"
William and Arthur exchanged a glance—unease tightening their chests—but they followed anyway.
As they neared, the air grew thick, humming with something wrong. And then—voices. Whispering. Slithering. Not from around them, but inside the stone.
The girl reached out.
Her fingers brushed the surface.
A gasp tore from her lips—her eyes flared black, then glowed, her pupils vanishing into searing light. A dark energy erupted from her mouth in a silent scream as fissures spiderwebbed across her skin.
The boys staggered back, horror rooting them in place.
Then—light. Blinding, devouring.
And—
BOOM.
She was gone. Not a scrap of flesh, not a drop of blood. Just empty air where she had stood.
Back to the present.
William studied him for a long moment, then sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But we leave within the week."
Synthia nodded, her gaze distant. "I'll start packing the trade supplies. But William…" She hesitated, then met Auther's eyes. "This isn't just about hiding the stone, is it? Something's changed."
Auther's fingers tightened around his cup. "The energy spikes are getting worse. If the wrong people sense it…" He didn't need to finish.
William stood abruptly. "Then we don't have time to waste." He clasped Auther's forearm, grip firm. "Keep her safe. And for the love of the First Flight, keep her away from that damned rock."
Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked.
All three adults froze.
A sleepy voice floated down the steps. "Papa? Why's Uncle Auther here so early…?"
Synthia's smile was too bright. "Just boring grown-up talk, little spark. Go back to bed."
But as Sylvie's footsteps retreated, Auther caught the knowing glint in William's eye.
They were running out of time.
A week went by in a flash and William and Synthia are finishing up their preparations
That night, long after Sylvie had gone back to sleep and the village fell into a hush, candlelight flickered behind the thick curtains of the Everglen household. On the kitchen table lay a tattered map of the eastern provinces—circles scrawled in charcoal, smudged ink lines tracing obscure trade routes and forgotten valleys.
Synthia hunched over it, brow furrowed, a quill gripped tightly between her fingers. "We can't pass through the Embergate checkpoint without papers. And the moment someone sees our names, we'll be flagged." Her voice was a sharp whisper, barely above the hiss of the candle flame.
"I know," William replied, his voice low and steady. He moved to the corner chest and opened it carefully. Beneath bundles of dried herbs and trade ledgers, he pulled out a hidden compartment. Inside, two daggers gleamed faintly—silver-hued with black veins, their edges curved like dragon fangs. "I'll carry these. Just in case."
Synthia looked up sharply. "Dragon-forged? William… if anyone catches you with those—"
"They won't," he cut her off. "And if they do, we won't be the ones needing help."
She studied him for a long moment, then returned to her task, her hands moving with practiced speed. The forged documents she produced bore the seal of a shipping guild long dissolved, the ink barely dry. She sprinkled a pinch of glittering dust across the parchment—illusion powder—to give it the shimmer of age.
Their eyes met across the table.
"Three weeks east," Synthia said. "If we move fast, we'll reach the old Drosmere market before the moon wanes."
William nodded grimly. "We'll leave at first light. I'll tell Sylvie we've been called for an urgent delivery."
"And when she asks why?" Synthia asked softly.
William's mouth tightened. "I'll lie. Just like we did last time."
A heavy silence hung between them. Then Synthia gathered the papers, rolling them into a wax-sealed tube. Her voice barely a whisper. "Let's just pray it's not already too late."
Outside, the wind shifted.
And far away, in the heart of the Whispering Woods, the Chosmos Stone pulsed—once. Twice. As if listening.
As if waiting.