The smell of smoke lingered in the air, a bitter reminder of what Rivendale had once been. I stood in the village square, the rubble of what used to be homes and shops scattered like broken memories around me. The sky above was still gray with ash, and the few remaining villagers huddled in small groups, their faces blank, their spirits shattered. They looked to me for answers, for hope, but I could feel the weight of their silent judgment pressing down on me.
"Listen," I said, my voice strong though my heart trembled. "We're not finished. We'll rebuild." I tried to project strength, but even as the words left my lips, they rang hollow. Their eyes met mine, dull and lifeless, not a flicker of belief among them. It was as if they were staring through me, past the person they once believed in. Each blank stare felt like a blade to my chest. These were the people I had sworn to protect, and I had failed them. Every stone that lay in ruin, every face etched in grief, was a testament to that failure.
"We can still make this right," I pressed on, refusing to let the despair swallow me whole. "There are survivors. There are still supplies. We can find a way." The words fell flat, and I knew it. Nothing I said would bring back the dead, would undo the destruction. The wind blew softly through the square, carrying the faint stench of burning wood and something darker—hopelessness.
I stood taller, forcing myself to appear composed. But deep inside, my resolve was unraveling, strand by fragile strand. How could I convince them when I couldn't even convince myself?
A child's quiet sob broke through the silence, cutting through the tension like a knife. I glanced at the small figure clinging to their mother, tears streaking down their soot-covered face. My chest tightened. How many more had cried like that while I fought, while I failed to save them?
Mira's face flashed in my mind—her lifeless eyes staring up at the smoke-filled sky, her blood staining the earth at my feet. I had been too slow. Too late. The weight of her death crushed me in a way that no battle had ever done. She had trusted me. They all had. And I had let them down.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into the skin of my palms until I felt the sharp sting of pain. It grounded me, kept me from sinking into the abyss that threatened to pull me under. But even the pain couldn't mask the doubts gnawing at my core.
What kind of protector loses everything?
The silence from the villagers was suffocating. Their gazes burned holes into me, though no one said a word. They didn't need to. Their silence spoke louder than any accusation could. I had failed to protect them, and now they were lost, adrift in the ruins of what used to be their lives. I tried to speak again, but my voice caught in my throat, tangled with the weight of my own guilt.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to remain standing when all I wanted to do was collapse into the dirt and scream. "We'll find a way to fix this," I said, though my words lacked the fire I usually commanded. "We have to."
My gaze fell on a pile of rubble that had once been the village bakery. I remembered the smell of fresh bread that used to drift through the square every morning. It was gone now, just like so many other pieces of Rivendale. I couldn't save the bakery. I couldn't save Mira. What could I save?
I was supposed to be stronger than this. I had always been the one to charge into battle, the one to face danger head-on without hesitation. But standing here, among the wreckage, I felt more like a ghost than a warrior.
The sound of footsteps approaching pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Korin making his way through the debris with a deliberate, almost casual pace. He moved through the destruction as if it didn't faze him, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage with a calm detachment that set my teeth on edge.
He stopped a few paces away from me, his dark cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, met mine. I glared at him, bracing for whatever cryptic nonsense he was about to spout.
"Trying to rally the troops?" Korin's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, as if he found my efforts... amusing. His calmness grated on me like nails on stone.
"I don't see you helping," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. Korin always seemed to appear out of nowhere, asking questions he already knew the answers to, as if he enjoyed watching me squirm under the weight of my own confusion.
Korin didn't respond to my jab. Instead, he glanced at the villagers, his expression unreadable. "You know, not everyone is cut out to be a protector," he said quietly, his words laced with something I couldn't quite place. Pity? No, not pity. Something colder.
My jaw tightened. "I'm doing the best I can," I said through clenched teeth, but even as the words left my mouth, they sounded weak, even to me.
Korin's gaze flicked back to me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you?" His tone wasn't accusing, but it struck a nerve all the same. "Are you sure this is what you were meant to do?"
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him he didn't know what he was talking about, but the words wouldn't come. Because deep down, in the part of me I didn't want to acknowledge, I wasn't sure anymore.
I had always known who I was—Selene, the protector of Rivendale, the warrior who would never back down. But standing here, with the village in ruins and the weight of my failures pressing down on me, I didn't feel like a protector. I felt like an impostor wearing a warrior's armor.
"I don't have time for your riddles," I muttered, turning away from him, but Korin's words clung to me, burrowing deep beneath my skin.
"You're clinging to a role that may not be yours to play," Korin said softly, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. "Sometimes the things we think define us... don't."
I spun around to face him, anger flaring hot in my chest. "And what would you know about it?" I snapped. "I'm Selene. I protect this village. I don't need you, or anyone else, telling me who I am."
Korin tilted his head, regarding me with that same infuriating calmness. "Maybe you don't," he said. "But that doesn't change the truth."
The truth. What truth? His words made no sense, and yet... a part of me felt them resonate deep within. I didn't want to listen. I didn't want to hear whatever cryptic nonsense he was hinting at. But there was something about the way he spoke, the way his words seemed to pierce through my defenses, that left me rattled.
"I know who I am," I said, though it came out weaker than I intended. Korin didn't push. He simply nodded, as if he had already planted the seed of doubt and was content to leave it to grow on its own.
As Korin turned and walked away, leaving me standing amidst the ruins of Rivendale, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was right. And that terrified me more than any battle ever could.
The village square reeked of death and smoke, the charred remains of homes scattered like broken promises. I moved through the debris, lifting stones and shattered beams, forcing myself to focus on what I could still do. Every step I took felt heavy, as though the weight of Rivendale's ruin was pressing down on me with every breath. I scanned the faces of the remaining villagers—hollow-eyed, defeated—and I could feel their despair sinking into my skin. They expected me to lead them, to offer a solution, but what could I possibly say? What could I offer when everything I'd sworn to protect lay in ashes?
As I moved through the debris, I couldn't help but notice Korin at the edge of the square. His figure was still, like a stone against the chaos that surrounded him. His cloak billowed slightly in the wind, but he remained unshaken, his calm demeanor only sharpening the jagged frustration growing inside me. What did he think of all this? He hadn't lifted a finger to help, hadn't tried to rally anyone or offer even a sliver of hope. He just stood there, watching me. Watching everything.
I felt my irritation flare as our eyes met. His gaze, steady and unnervingly calm, didn't falter. For a moment, I wanted to march up to him and demand answers. How could he stand there so composed, while the rest of us picked up the broken pieces of our lives? His presence grated on me like an itch I couldn't scratch, yet I couldn't look away from him either. Something about the intensity in his eyes—like he was seeing through me, as if he knew things I didn't—made me bristle.
I glared at him, daring him to speak, but he didn't move. Didn't react. He just kept watching, his silence as sharp as any blade. I wanted to lash out, to tell him to stop staring, to do something. But the words caught in my throat. I was too tired, too worn down by the weight of my failure to confront him now. I turned my back on him, forcing myself to focus on the villagers, on their silent pleas for leadership that I wasn't sure I could provide.
A woman approached, clutching the hand of a crying child. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears, her eyes wide with fear. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice trembling. The child beside her sobbed softly, clutching her skirt.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What do we do now? I didn't have an answer. How could I possibly lead them when I didn't even know where to begin? The village elder was dead, the homes were in ruins, and the people looked to me as if I could somehow fix this. But I wasn't a leader. I was just a fighter. A protector, maybe, but even that felt false now. I had failed to protect them. Mira was dead, Kaden badly injured. So many others were gone. What right did I have to claim any role here?
The woman's expectant gaze pierced through me, waiting, hoping for something I couldn't give. "We'll… we'll rebuild," I managed to say, my voice barely audible. "We'll find a way to survive."
But my words felt as hollow as the empty homes around us, and the woman's expression faltered, doubt flickering in her eyes. She nodded, though, as if forcing herself to believe, if only for her child's sake. I watched her walk away, feeling the emptiness settle deeper in my chest.
I wasn't sure I believed it either.
Before I could gather myself, Korin stepped forward. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. He walked through the destruction with the same unsettling calm that had grated on me before, but now that he was closer, his presence felt even more imposing. He carried an air of certainty that I couldn't place, as though he knew something none of us did.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Korin's voice was soft but steady, cutting through the tension like a knife. His tone wasn't accusatory, more like genuine curiosity, but his question still set my teeth on edge.
I narrowed my eyes, meeting his gaze with a glare. "Why do you care?"
He didn't back down, didn't even flinch. Instead, his gaze remained sharp, probing deeper as though he could see through my walls. "You fought with skill, precision. That's not something one learns by accident."
My stomach churned at his words. I didn't owe him answers, but something about the way he asked unsettled me. It was as if he knew more about me than I did, like he was trying to draw something out of me that even I wasn't aware of. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. "I've been training all my life," I muttered, the response clipped.
Korin tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "But why? What drives you to fight so fiercely?"
I crossed my arms, trying to put some distance between us, though we stood only a few feet apart. "What are you getting at?"
Korin's gaze softened just enough to make me wary. He wasn't pressing me, not in a confrontational way, but his questions felt like they carried more weight than simple curiosity. "I'm just trying to understand," he said. "A village protector like you—someone who fights with such purpose—usually has a deeper reason for doing so."
I felt the sting of his words, though I wasn't sure why. I'd always fought to protect Rivendale. That had been my purpose for as long as I could remember. But now, with the village in ruins, it felt like that purpose had crumbled alongside the buildings. What was left for me to fight for?
"You think you know me?" I shot back, a flare of anger igniting in my chest. "You think you can waltz in here, ask a few questions, and figure me out?"
Korin didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a step closer, his presence radiating calm despite the heat rising between us. "I'm not here to figure you out," he said, his voice even. "But maybe it's time you started asking yourself why you're still here. What's keeping you in a place that's already lost?"
I stared at him, the words hanging in the air between us. His question struck something deep inside me, something I didn't want to face. What was keeping me here? Why was I still fighting, still trying to rally the villagers, when everything was already gone? Was it just duty? Or was there something more?
I didn't answer him. I couldn't. Not yet. Instead, I turned away, my gaze once again falling on the ruined village. The wind rustled through the square, carrying the scent of ash and burned wood. Korin remained by my side, silent, but his presence was a constant reminder of the questions he had raised.
For now, I pushed them away, focusing instead on the people who needed me. I wasn't ready to face the answers yet, but I couldn't ignore them forever. And somehow, I knew Korin wouldn't let me.
Some survivors huddled around small fires, their faces painted with soot and grief. I couldn't stop the ache of failure that gnawed at me. They were looking to me for answers, but I had none.
Korin was watching me again. I could feel his eyes, always there, silent and unreadable. His presence unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. He'd been so calm, so composed in the chaos, and now he stood at the edge of the square, his arms crossed, observing everything with that same infuriating serenity.
I tried to ignore him. There were people to help, and I wasn't going to waste time playing his games. I moved to a collapsed structure where a villager struggled to pull free a beam. "Here," I said, gripping the edge of the charred wood. Together, we heaved the beam aside, revealing a few scattered belongings beneath. Nothing of use, just remnants of lives that no longer existed. The man offered a weak smile of thanks before moving on.
I straightened, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension building there. But no matter what I did, Korin's presence was like an itch I couldn't scratch. He hadn't said anything for a while, but I knew he would. He had that look about him, the kind that said he was always holding back something—waiting for the right moment to strike.
And then, just as I expected, his voice cut through the thick air. "You're stronger than most would expect," he said, his tone conversational, as if we were discussing the weather and not standing in the wreckage of a burning village.
I glanced over my shoulder, glaring. "Is this really the time for compliments?"
He didn't flinch, didn't waver. "I'm not here to flatter you, Selene. I'm here because there's more at play than you realize."
I wanted to dismiss him, to walk away and continue helping the villagers, but something about his words burrowed into me. Korin always spoke as if he knew more than he let on, as if he held some secret that was just out of my reach.
I grit my teeth, turning to face him fully. "More at play? Like what? We're in ruins, Korin. People are dead. The village is gone. And you want to talk about… what? Riddles?"
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not riddles. Truths."
"I don't have time for this," I muttered, shaking my head. "I need to help these people. Not indulge in cryptic nonsense."
"You're their protector," Korin said quietly. "But are you truly prepared to protect them from what's coming next?"
I froze, my blood turning cold. "What's coming next?"
Korin's lips pressed into a thin line, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—something more than the calm façade he always wore. "You felt it, didn't you? That surge of power? It wasn't a mistake."
The words hit like a hammer, and I felt the air leave my lungs. He knew. Somehow, he knew about the strange energy I had felt earlier, the one I had been desperately trying to push aside. "That doesn't mean anything," I said, my voice a little too sharp. "It's just—"
"Just what?" he interrupted, his voice low but insistent. "Random? Coincidence? You're not just a protector, Selene. You're connected to something far greater."
I clenched my fists, the frustration bubbling up to the surface. "What are you talking about?"
Korin stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a piercing intensity. "The dragon bloodline. Ancient magic. You've heard the stories, haven't you? The old legends?"
I narrowed my eyes, my temper flaring. "This is ridiculous. Dragon bloodlines? Magic? You think now's the time to discuss fairy tales?"
"These aren't fairy tales," Korin said, his voice firm. "The dragons are real, Selene. The bloodline is real. And it runs through you."
The absurdity of his words almost made me laugh, but there was no humor in this moment. My mind raced, desperately trying to push away the weight of his suggestion. It couldn't be true. It was impossible.
But even as I tried to reject it, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered otherwise. The strange power I had felt—could it be connected? I shook my head, refusing to entertain the thought. "No," I said, more to myself than to Korin. "This isn't real. I'm just a fighter, a protector. Nothing more."
Korin's eyes softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "You've always known, haven't you? Somewhere deep inside, you've always felt the pull. It's why you fight so fiercely. Why you've always been different."
I turned away from him, needing space, needing air. His words were too much, too heavy, and I couldn't afford to let them take root. I wasn't some mythical heir or whatever he thought I was. I was just Selene, and right now, I needed to focus on saving what little remained of Rivendale.
I threw myself back into the work, helping a group of villagers clear the remnants of a house that had been destroyed in the battle. My muscles strained as I lifted beam after beam, but it wasn't the physical weight that pressed down on me. It was Korin's words, his accusations, his calm insistence that there was more to me than I realized.
And the worst part was, a small part of me believed him.
I could feel it, gnawing at the edges of my mind—the possibility that Korin might be right. That the strange surge of power I had felt wasn't just some fluke. That there was something more to my bloodline, something I had never wanted to face.
But I couldn't let that distract me. I had responsibilities here. People depended on me. I wasn't going to abandon them just because some stranger decided to show up and fill my head with wild ideas about dragons and magic.
Still, the doubt lingered, and I hated it.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I couldn't take it anymore. I rounded on Korin, who had been watching me silently from the edge of the square. "Why does any of this matter now?" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended. "People are dead, Korin. The village is destroyed. And all you care about is some cryptic nonsense about dragons?"
Korin didn't flinch at my outburst. Instead, he remained calm, his eyes steady as he watched me. "Because this is the time it matters most," he said quietly. "You're standing on the edge of something far bigger than you realize. The power you felt—it's only the beginning."
I shook my head, pacing in frustration. "I don't have time for this. I'm trying to save my village."
"And I'm trying to save you," Korin said, his voice still calm. "Because if you don't accept who you are, what you're capable of, you won't just lose this village. You'll lose everything."
I stopped, my breath coming in ragged gasps. His words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. The weight of everything—the destruction, the loss, the uncertainty—pressed down on me with crushing force.
"I can't be what you think I am," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Korin took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "You're not who you think you are."
His words lingered in the air, and despite every instinct telling me to reject them, I couldn't. I felt something deep inside me shift, a quiet acknowledgment of a truth I wasn't ready to face.
But whether I was ready or not, it was coming
The few surviving villagers moved like ghosts through the wreckage, their faces pale with shock, eyes hollow with grief. It was my home, my responsibility, and I had failed to protect it. That reality weighed on me, sinking into my bones with every breath I took.
I stood in the center of the square, the wind picking up the scent of ash and loss. Korin's words still echoed in my mind, taunting me with their cryptic weight. "You're not who you think you are." I couldn't shake them, even though I wanted to. Desperately.
Korin remained at the edge of the square, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes never left me. That quiet smile tugged at his lips, as if he knew something I didn't—something I didn't want to know.
"You're not who you think you are."
The words sent a chill down my spine, though I fought to suppress it. My heart beat faster, thudding heavily in my chest, but I clenched my fists and forced myself to maintain composure. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words unnerved me.
"What does that even mean?" I muttered under my breath, my gaze scanning the devastation around me. The villagers looked to me, waiting for direction, waiting for hope. But I had none to give. Not after what had happened.
I had always been Selene, daughter of a farmer, warrior of Rivendale. That was who I was—nothing more. I refused to indulge in Korin's riddles. Now was not the time for games, especially with so much at stake.
But still, his words clung to me like a shadow, darkening my thoughts.
With a sharp breath, I shook my head. Focus. The village needed me. I had to pull myself together, to help them rebuild, to be the protector they believed I was. I wasn't some mythical heir, and I wasn't going to let Korin's nonsense distract me from my duty.
I strode toward a group of villagers struggling to lift the remains of a roof beam from one of the homes. "Let me help," I said, stepping in and gripping the wood alongside them. The weight was familiar, grounding me in the physical world. This was what I was good at—lifting, fighting, protecting. Not unraveling riddles about ancient bloodlines and forgotten magic.
As we heaved the beam away, one of the women glanced at me, her eyes filled with gratitude, though her face was etched with exhaustion. "Thank you, Selene," she whispered, her voice shaky. "We don't know what we would do without you."
I nodded, but her words pierced me. If only she knew how close I felt to breaking. How hollow my reassurances were.
"Keep going," I said, forcing strength into my voice. "We'll rebuild."
But even as I said the words, doubt gnawed at me. Would we? Could we? So much had been lost. And Korin's words still echoed in my mind, making it harder to push through the fog of uncertainty.
He hadn't stopped watching me, and I could feel his gaze like a weight on my back. I turned sharply, narrowing my eyes at him. "What are you staring at?"
Korin didn't flinch. He simply smiled, that same enigmatic look crossing his face. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Selene."
I growled low in my throat, the frustration bubbling up. "Enough of the riddles, Korin. If you have something to say, say it plainly."
"I have been," he replied, his voice calm, infuriatingly steady. "You just don't want to hear it."
I stepped closer, my fists clenched. "I don't have time for your games. People are dead. My home is in ruins. And all you care about is spouting cryptic nonsense."
Korin's eyes softened, just slightly. "It's not nonsense. You felt it, didn't you? The power, the surge. It's in your blood."
"I felt nothing," I snapped, though the lie felt bitter on my tongue. I had felt it—an unfamiliar power, pulsing through my veins like fire. But I refused to acknowledge it. I couldn't. It wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Korin took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You can't deny who you are, Selene. The blood of dragons flows in your veins. You're more than just a warrior of Rivendale."
I shook my head, refusing to listen. "No. I am Selene, daughter of a farmer whose parents were killed in a raid years ago, warrior of this village. That's all I've ever been. That's all I'll ever be."
His expression didn't change, but I could see the way his eyes softened, as if he pitied me. I hated it. "You can't cling to that identity forever," he said quietly. "There's more to you than that. You've always known, deep down."
"No," I growled, stepping back, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "I don't want to be more. I never asked for any of this."
"The truth doesn't care what you want," Korin said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "It is what it is. And whether you accept it or not, it's coming for you."
I clenched my teeth, trying to suppress the rising panic. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. I wasn't some chosen heir. I wasn't destined for anything greater than this village, this life. I had trained my whole life to protect Rivendale, to be its shield. That was who I was. Nothing more.
But deep down, I knew Korin's words were beginning to crack the foundation I had built around myself.
I turned away from him, trying to push his words out of my mind. I needed to focus, to ground myself in the reality I knew. I threw myself back into the work, helping a group of villagers salvage what little remained of their home. We sorted through the rubble, collecting anything useful—scraps of wood, metal, cloth. The rhythm of the work was comforting, distracting. It kept me anchored in the here and now.
As I bandaged a villager's wounded arm, I silently repeated to myself that this was my life—this was who I was. A protector. A warrior. Not some mythical heir tied to dragons and magic.
But the more I tried to convince myself, the harder it became to drown out the nagging voice in my head.
"You felt it."
The power I had felt earlier had been real. I couldn't deny that anymore. But what did it mean? Why did it happen? And why was Korin so certain it was connected to some ancient bloodline I didn't even know I had?
My hands trembled slightly as I tied off the bandage, and I quickly stood, wiping the sweat from my brow. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the village. The work was far from done, but exhaustion was starting to creep in. Not just physical exhaustion, but mental. The weight of everything was pressing down on me, heavier than any battle I had fought.
I glanced over at Korin again, my eyes narrowing. He had moved closer, standing at the edge of the square, still watching me. His presence was a constant reminder of the questions I didn't want to face.
But the more I tried to avoid them, the more they pressed in on me.
By the time the last of the daylight faded, the villagers had begun to settle in for the night. Makeshift shelters had been set up, and small fires dotted the square, providing warmth against the cool evening air. I stood near one of the fires, staring into the flames, my mind a storm of conflicting thoughts.
I didn't want this. I didn't want to be part of some greater destiny. I just wanted to protect my village, to hold onto the life I had always known. But Korin's words wouldn't leave me. They clung to me, like a shadow I couldn't escape.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
I marched over to where Korin sat, the firelight casting flickering shadows over his face. He looked up as I approached, his expression calm, expectant.
"What do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice raw with frustration. "Why are you here?"
Korin regarded me for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "I'm here because you're not who you think you are. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can save more than just this village."
I shook my head, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "I don't care about some ancient prophecy, or bloodlines, or magic. I care about my people. That's all I've ever cared about."
"And that's why you're the one who can save them," Korin said softly. "But not if you keep denying who you are."
His words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. The fire crackled between us, the only sound in the tense silence. I wanted to scream, to shout at him that he was wrong. But deep down, I knew that wouldn't change anything.
Because part of me feared he was right.
I turned away, staring out at the village, at the people I swore to protect. My heart ached with the weight of it all. The life I had known was slipping away, and I was powerless to stop it.
And in that moment, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold onto the person I had been. The world was changing around me, and I was changing with it.
But I wasn't ready to face what that meant. Not yet.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I whispered, more to myself than to Korin.
"You'll find out," Korin said quietly. "And when you do, you'll understand why this matters."
I closed my eyes, the weight of Korin's words settling over me like a heavy cloak. I didn't want to understand. I just wanted to go back to the way things were. But deep down, I knew that wasn't possible. The storm inside me was growing, and there was no stopping it.
As night fell over the ruined village, an uneasy quiet settled in. The villagers retreated to their makeshift shelters, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I paced the perimeter, my eyes scanning the darkness beyond, searching for threats both real and imagined.
But the true threat, I realized, might be lurking within me.
I flexed my fingers, remembering the surge of power I'd felt earlier. It had been unlike anything I'd ever experienced—raw, primal, terrifying. Was this what Korin meant? Was this the truth I'd been running from?
A cool breeze whispered through the square, carrying with it the scent of ash and change. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come. I might not be ready to face this new reality, but I knew I couldn't hide from it forever.
As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, I made a decision. Whether I liked it or not, things were different now. I was different. And if I was going to protect what was left of my home, I needed to understand why.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The air grew thick, suffocating as the sky above Rivendale darkened. A chill crept through the village, unnatural and foreboding. My breath fogged in front of me as I gripped my sword, heart pounding. The wind howled, carrying with it the stench of decay. Then they returned—Malakar's creatures, emerging from the shadows like nightmares come to life. Their eyes glowed, embers in the storm, and their jagged forms twisted in ways that defied nature. Screams erupted around me. Villagers ran, stumbling over debris, scrambling to find shelter. But there was nowhere to hide. Not from this.
I stood at the front, the weight of responsibility heavy on my shoulders, my muscles tense and ready. This was what I was trained for, what I was supposed to be—a protector. But something about this attack felt different. My instincts screamed at me, urging me to move, to act. Yet beneath the adrenaline, I felt a crackling in the air, a strange energy that hummed in my bones. It wasn't just fear, it was something… other. Something I couldn't explain, but couldn't ignore.
The creatures were close now, their gnashing teeth and blackened claws tearing through the already ruined streets. I charged, sword raised, every step filled with purpose. Metal clashed against claws, and I fought with everything I had, but the weight of the battle was overwhelming. For every one I struck down, two more seemed to appear like they did in the first encounter, their bodies shifting unnaturally in the chaos.
Through the chaos, I caught sight of Korin. He stood at the edge of the square, his face unnervingly calm. His lips moved, chanting something ancient, a language I didn't understand. As his voice carried through the air, I saw it—a shimmering barrier forming above us, swirling with blue light. It spread across the village, a fragile shield protecting the villagers as the creatures crashed into it, recoiling in pain.
But the barrier flickered. Korin's face tightened, sweat glistening on his brow as he struggled to hold it. The creatures kept coming, relentless. I could see it—the strain, the way the energy around him wavered. We were running out of time.
The sky churned above, heavy and oppressive, the weight of it pressing down on Rivendale like the prelude to death itself. My heart pounded in my chest, every beat a violent reminder of how close the end was. Sweat slicked my palms, but I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword, the leather worn smooth by years of training that felt useless now. The creatures surged toward us, grotesque shapes born from darkness and flame, their eyes glowing with malevolent hunger.
I had faced horrors before, fought against foes who outmatched me in strength, but this… this was different.
Ahead of me, one of the creatures stood out from the rest. Larger. Its twisted form towered over the others, muscles rippling beneath its oily skin, flames flickering across its limbs as if it was made of fire itself. Its eyes were endless pits of black, locking onto me with an almost sentient hunger. My pulse quickened, cold fear flooding my veins. I took a step back, unsteady for the first time.
It roared, a sound that vibrated through the ground, shaking loose stones and sending a jolt of panic up my spine. The creature charged, its massive claws tearing through the earth as it barreled toward me. My instincts kicked in, and I raised my sword just in time to block its strike, the force of the blow rattling my bones.
I parried, stepping back, swinging with all the strength I had left. My blade sliced through the creature's molten skin, but it hardly seemed to notice. The flames along its body flared, licking at my arms, singeing the edges of my tunic. It came at me again, and again I deflected, but each time it grew faster, stronger.
I gritted my teeth, muscles screaming with effort as I slashed at the beast's legs, trying to bring it down. The metal of my sword glowed red from the heat, my hands blistering beneath my gloves. I was barely holding on, every swing of my sword growing weaker, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I glanced around, the village crumbling beneath the assault. People screamed, running in every direction, scrambling to escape the horror descending on us. Through the chaos, I saw Korin. He stood at the edge of the square, his arms raised toward the sky, chanting that same strange incantation. The barrier flickered above us, a shimmer of bluish light that pulsed with his words. But it was weakening. The creatures were relentless, crashing into it with bone-shattering force.
Korin's face was tight with concentration, but I could see the strain in his eyes, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding the magic. The barrier wouldn't last.
I felt my chest tighten, panic gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. If Korin fell, if that shield shattered, it was over. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let that happen. I turned back to the creature before me, its burning eyes boring into mine. My muscles ached, my sword feeling like lead in my hands, but I raised it once more, teeth clenched.
The beast struck, and I blocked, the impact knocking me to my knees. My arms screamed in protest, and my vision blurred from exhaustion. I couldn't keep this up. I was outmatched, outnumbered, and out of time.
My breath came in short gasps, the taste of ash thick in the back of my throat. I could hear the villagers behind me, their cries growing louder, more desperate. I had to stop this. I had to fight. But no matter how hard I tried, the creature pushed me back, its strength overwhelming, my own ebbing away like the dying light of day.
Desperation welled up inside me, a raw, primal thing. I could feel the pulse of something deep within my chest, something I'd tried to ignore for too long. The same power I'd felt earlier, that strange, unexplainable energy that hummed beneath my skin. It was rising now, burning through me like wildfire.
My heart pounded louder, faster. I wasn't sure if it was fear or something else entirely. I closed my eyes, my grip tightening on the sword. I couldn't hold back anymore. Whatever was inside me, I had to let it out.
I roared, the sound tearing from my throat, raw and wild. My body trembled, the energy coursing through me, uncontrollable, unstoppable. I could feel it, a force so much greater than myself, something ancient and powerful waking inside me.
And then, everything changed.
The moment I roared again, something broke loose inside me. A violent surge of energy ripped through my veins, searing me from the inside out. I gasped, dropping my sword as my hands shook uncontrollably. My skin burned, the heat unbearable, as if molten fire had taken root in my bones. My heart raced, pounding so hard I could feel it in my skull, each beat louder than the chaos around me.
Then, the pain. It was unbearable—my bones cracked, twisted, and reformed. The heat surged, not from the creature, but from me. My skin prickled, the air around me vibrating with intensity. I felt my bones shift, my muscles burning as my body contorted. A wave of power exploded from my core, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.
My muscles stretched, my skin hardened, and I screamed, but the sound that tore from my throat was no longer human. My body convulsed as I collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony as every fiber of my being shifted, transformed. My hands—no, my claws—dug into the earth, sharp and unyielding.
I could feel it, the change. My spine lengthened, my skin rippling and turning to hard, shimmering scales. Wings. Wings! They burst from my back with a sound like thunder, unfurling in a way that both terrified and exhilarated me. Every nerve felt alive with power, surging, unstoppable.
My scream deepened into a roar that shook the ground beneath me. I blinked, and my vision sharpened—a predator's eyes, a dragon's gaze. I saw everything with terrifying clarity: the battlefield, the creatures, the sky darkening above. I opened my eyes just in time to see the creature hesitate, its glowing eyes widening in shock. But it wasn't just the creature. The villagers had stopped, frozen in place, their eyes locked on me with expressions of pure disbelief.
And then I realized—this wasn't fear in their eyes. It was awe.
I was no longer Selene, the warrior of Rivendale. I was something far more dangerous, far more powerful.
The pain began to ebb, replaced by a ferocious strength. My heart still pounded, but now it felt different. I was no longer afraid. I was something else, something wild, ancient, unstoppable.
I spread my wings, feeling the air shift beneath them, and for the first time, I felt the raw, unbridled power of a dragon surging through me.
I looked down at my hands, or where my hands should have been. Instead, massive, scaled claws met my gaze, shimmering with iridescent blue. My heart thundered in my chest, but it wasn't panic anymore. It was something else entirely.
I had transformed. And nothing would ever be the same.
The moment my transformation was complete, silence fell over Rivendale. The clamor of battle, the screams and chaos—all of it stopped, replaced by a stunned, reverent stillness. I towered above the village now, my wings casting a shadow over the scorched ground. The villagers—my people—stared at me, their eyes wide with a mix of terror and awe. Some backed away, stumbling over rubble as if they could escape the impossible sight before them. Others dropped to their knees, trembling as they gazed up at me, their faces pale, lips moving in whispered prayers.
I could feel their fear, their confusion. They no longer saw me as Selene, the warrior they'd once known. I had become something else, something out of legend, a creature that had no place in their world. Flames flickered at the edges of my mouth, and when I exhaled, a jet of fire exploded toward the oncoming horde of Malakar's creatures. The dark beasts scattered, screeching in fear of the dragon's wrath, their once-unrelenting assault broken by the sheer force of my transformation.
Yet even as they fled, the weight of the villagers' stares pressed down on me. Their fear... their expectation... I felt it all.
The air hummed with Korin's power as he stepped forward through the chaos, his form unnaturally calm amidst the swirling storm of battle. The barrier he'd cast to protect the villagers had finally shattered, fragments of light dissipating into the wind. Yet, as Malakar's creatures surged forward, Korin remained unshaken. His hand rose with purpose, and from his fingers erupted a wave of brilliant light that cut through the dark forces like a blade. The creatures recoiled, screeching, momentarily blinded by the intensity of his magic.
Where others saw only fear and destruction in my new form, Korin saw something else—something that even I couldn't fully grasp yet. His eyes locked with mine, steady, holding an authority I'd never noticed before. The wind whipped around us, carrying the dying screams of the beasts, but his voice cut through the noise, clear and ancient.
"You are the last of the Dragonlords."
The words hit me like a hammer, reverberating through every bone in my body. I could feel the weight of their meaning, even as I tore into the monstrous creatures with a strength I hadn't known I possessed. Fire rippled from my jaws, and the earth trembled under the force of my talons. But Korin's words… they echoed louder than the battle itself.
Dragonlord?
Everything I thought I knew, everything I had been, crumbled in an instant. My entire life had been a lie. I wasn't just a farmer's daughter or a village warrior. I was something more. Something ancient. Something feared. And yet, here I stood, a dragon amidst a battlefield, caught between two worlds I didn't understand.
Korin's voice continued, unwavering. "Only you can stop Malakar. You are the key to ending his reign of darkness." His words carried a finality that chilled me. The villagers, who had once looked to me as their protector, now gazed upon me with awe, some still trembling, unsure whether to flee or bow.
But Korin… he didn't see me as a monster. He saw what I was destined to become. His gaze, firm and sure, never wavered. "You carry the bloodline of an ancient race thought to be extinct. You, Selene, are the last hope of this realm."
The truth settled like a stone in my chest. There was no running from it now. My fate had been sealed.
I closed my eyes, letting the weight of Korin's words sink in. The last hope of this realm. The enormity of it threatened to crush me. When I opened my eyes again, the world seemed different, as if the very air had changed.