The world outside the cave was nothing but cold wind and the heavy sound of the dragon breathing. Its wings folded close to its body, stirring dust across the ground. Even injured as he was, Riven could feel the heat of its presence—the weight of it. Like standing beside a living storm.
He didn't dare move.
The blue dragon lowered its head, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air between them. Frost curled across the ground where its breath touched. Its eyes—bright, almost luminous—studied him with something that felt too close to intelligence.
Riven swallowed hard.
"I… called you," he whispered, more to himself than the creature. His voice shook. "How?"
The dragon didn't answer, obviously, but it made a low rumble in its chest—a sound that wasn't quite threatening, but not gentle either. More like a question.
Or an acknowledgment.
Riven reached out before he even realized it. His hand hovered inches from the creature's snout.
Then a groan behind him snapped everything back into focus.
His father.
Riven's heart lurched painfully. He tore himself away from the dragon and stumbled back inside the cave, ignoring the burning in his ribs. His father lay where he had fallen, breath shallow, blood pooling beneath him—too much blood.
Riven dropped to his knees beside him.
"Hey—hey, stay with me," he said, pressing a shaking hand against the wound as if that would help. It didn't. Blood soaked through his fingers almost instantly.
His father's eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then finding Riven with effort.
"Still… alive," the man murmured. A faint, tired smile tugged at his lips. "Good."
"You saved me," Riven said. "But you—you're—"
His father raised a hand weakly, brushing Riven's shoulder.
"Don't… blame yourself. This was always coming."
Riven shook his head. "Stop talking like that. You're going to be fine. We'll—we'll find a healer—"
"No healer can fix this," his father said softly. There was no fear in his voice, only inevitability.
Riven bit down hard, trying to choke back the panic in his chest. "You said you knew me. That you'd… lost me before. What did you mean?"
A slow, pained breath.
Then:
"Your mother… she must have told you I was banished."
Riven nodded. It was one of the few things his mother spoke of that carried sadness she tried to hide.
"She told me people feared your power," Riven whispered. "But she never told me what you really were."
His father managed a faint smile. "She was protecting you."
Riven leaned closer. "From what?"
"From this," he whispered. "From my blood."
He lifted a trembling hand and touched Riven's chest—right where his heart hammered wildly.
"You felt it, didn't you? The words. The call. The dragon answering you."
Riven swallowed. "I didn't mean to. It just… happened."
"It always begins like that," his father murmured. "A spark. A whisper. Then the roar."
"Why?" Riven asked. "What am I? What did you make me into?"
His father hesitated, the truth weighing heavily on him.
"You were born with something this kingdom hates more than magic," he said. "A legacy they wiped from history. A heritage they killed to bury."
Riven's skin prickled.
His father's eyes softened with a mixture of pride and regret.
"You are a Dragon Lord, Riven. Just as I was."
The words hit him like a blow.
Dragon Lord.
The title sounded ridiculous, impossible… yet the dragon outside the cave had answered him. Obeyed him. Chosen him.
Riven's breath trembled. "If that's true… then why did you leave us? Why did they chase you out?"
For the first time, a flicker of anger—old, tired anger—crossed his father's face.
"Because Dragon Lords cannot be controlled," he said. "And kingdoms fear what they cannot own."
The cave seemed colder.
His father squeezed his hand weakly. "They feared me. And when you were born… they feared what you might become."
Riven felt a numbness spreading through him. "So they banished you."
"They tried to kill me," his father corrected quietly. "And they would have killed you too, if they had known what ran in your veins."
Riven stared at him in horror.
His father's breathing grew shallower.
"They will not stop," he whispered. "Not until they have claimed or destroyed every last remnant of our blood."
A chill went through Riven that had nothing to do with the wind.
"Don't… let them," his father said. "Don't let them twist you. Don't let them make you a weapon."
Riven shook his head fiercely. "I won't let them do anything to you—just hold on—"
But the man seemed already far away. His eyes drifted to the cave entrance, where the dragon waited just beyond the shadows.
"Riven," he whispered. "The dragon that answered you… it is bound to your blood now. Treat it with respect. Not power."
Riven tightened his grip on his father's hand. "Please—don't go. I just found you."
His father's eyes turned back to him—soft, warm, unbearably tired.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I wanted more time. I wanted… to see the man you'd become."
His voice thinned, fading like the last flicker of a flame.
"You have… her eyes," he murmured. "Your mother's…"
Riven's throat closed.
His father exhaled once, gently—
and did not inhale again.
Silence.
Not the soft kind.
The kind that feels like a wound.
Riven stared at him, unable to move, unable to breathe, listening for a sound he knew wouldn't come.
His vision blurred, but not from pain.
A shadow shifted behind him—the dragon lowering its head into the cave, letting out a low, rumbling sound that felt almost… like mourning.
Riven wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing blood and tears alike.
Slowly, he rose to his feet.
He didn't feel strong.
He didn't feel ready.
But he felt something he had never felt before.
Direction.
Resolve.
He looked up at the dragon, meeting its glowing blue eyes.
"They killed him," Riven whispered. His voice cracked. "The kingdom… my kingdom… they murdered him."
The dragon's breath whirled frost across the ground.
Riven clenched his fists. "I'll return. And when I do… they'll answer for it."
The dragon lowered its head again, as if in agreement.
Riven stepped out of the cave, the cold wind hitting his face. The battlefield was far away, the world stretched out before him like a long, unforgiving road.
He didn't know how long it would take.
He didn't know if he could survive it.
But he knew this:
One day, when he was strong enough—
a kingdom would fall to its knees.