The wind howled through the crumbling ruins of Eldorath, carrying with it the cold bite of autumn. Once, this kingdom had stood tall—a jewel among the realms, with its marble towers and bustling markets. But now, it was nothing more than a memory, a place where the echoes of glory whispered through the moss-covered stones. Eldorath had fallen centuries ago, its dragon riders gone, its people scattered. Only ruins remained, a testament to what had once been.
Kaelen pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he trudged through the overgrown streets. His boots crunched on loose stones, and the mist that clung to the air seemed to deepen the silence. As a squire in the service of Sir Eamon, one of the last knights of Eldorath, his days were filled with menial tasks—sharpening blades, tending to horses, and, today, scavenging through what was left of the ancient kingdom for anything of value. The knights had little left, and they were far from their former glory.
Ahead, the grand hall of the Dragon Keep loomed, its once-majestic façade now weathered and broken. Statues of long-forgotten dragon riders stood guard, their stone eyes hollow and their hands frozen in ancient salutes. Above them, etched into the stone walls, the ancient sigil of Eldorath—a dragon with outstretched wings—was barely visible, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain.
Kaelen sighed. The Dragon Keep had been searched countless times by treasure hunters and relic seekers, yet Sir Eamon insisted that they continue to search. "There is always something left behind," he had said. "The ancient dragons left more than just bones and fire in their wake."
As Kaelen entered the massive hall, he couldn't help but feel a shiver of awe. Even in its ruined state, the Dragon Keep retained an air of majesty. High arches rose toward the ceiling, which was now open to the sky, and the long rows of stone pillars cast eerie shadows in the dim light. The center of the hall, where once dragons had roosted, was now a desolate pit, filled with rubble and the remnants of long-dead fires.
"Get it over with," he muttered to himself. "The sooner I'm done here, the sooner I can get back to the fire."
He moved toward the back of the hall, where a massive stone platform stood—what was once the throne of Eldorath's dragon lords. Behind it, the wall bore intricate carvings depicting the history of the kingdom: dragons soaring through the sky, riders brandishing their gleaming swords, and the defeat of monstrous foes. But one section of the wall caught Kaelen's attention.
Unlike the rest of the carvings, this section had no dragons or battles. Instead, it was a depiction of a single egg, surrounded by swirling flames and a figure cloaked in shadows. Beneath the carving, strange runes were etched into the stone. Kaelen squinted, trying to make sense of the symbols, but they were in a language he did not understand.
Still, something about the carving tugged at him. He reached out, his fingers brushing the cold stone, and suddenly, a jolt of energy coursed through his body. He stumbled back, gasping as the runes began to glow with a faint light, growing brighter with each passing second.
"What in the gods' name...?" Kaelen muttered, his heart racing.
The ground beneath his feet trembled, and the stone platform began to shift. With a grinding sound, it slid aside, revealing a hidden staircase that spiraled down into the darkness below.
Kaelen stared, his breath catching in his throat. No one had ever mentioned anything about hidden chambers beneath the Dragon Keep. For a moment, he hesitated. Sir Eamon had given him no orders to explore, and whatever was down there had been hidden for a reason. But curiosity gnawed at him. If there was something left of Eldorath's legacy, something that could restore the lost glory of the dragon riders, it could very well be down in that forgotten abyss.
Before he could second-guess himself, Kaelen grabbed a torch from the wall, struck a flint to light it, and descended into the dark.
The stairway spiraled downward for what felt like an eternity. The air grew colder, and the walls seemed to close in as Kaelen descended. His torch flickered, casting long, wavering shadows that danced along the narrow corridor. At last, he reached the bottom, where a massive stone door barred his way. The same glowing runes adorned the door, pulsing with a strange, ethereal light.
He pushed against the door, but it didn't budge. Frustrated, Kaelen placed his hand on the center of the runes, and, to his surprise, the door began to open, sliding silently into the wall.
Beyond the door was a chamber unlike anything Kaelen had ever seen.
The room was vast, its ceiling lost in darkness. Along the walls, stone dragons were carved, their eyes glowing faintly in the torchlight. And in the center of the chamber, resting on a pedestal of gleaming obsidian, was an egg.
It was larger than any egg Kaelen had ever seen, easily the size of a grown man's torso, and its surface shimmered with an iridescent glow, shifting between hues of gold, silver, and deep crimson. Heat radiated from it, and Kaelen could feel the power pulsing from within, as if the egg itself was alive, waiting.
A dragon's egg.
For a moment, Kaelen stood frozen, staring in awe. Could it be real? Could the ancient dragons of Eldorath still exist, waiting for the right moment to return? His heart pounded in his chest. If the egg hatched, it could change everything. The dragon riders could rise again. Eldorath could be restored. The realms would once more know the might of the dragons.
But before Kaelen could act, the ground beneath him shook violently. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling, and the stone dragons along the walls seemed to come to life, their eyes blazing with light.
A voice echoed through the chamber, deep and resonant, filling Kaelen's mind.
**"The time has come."**
Kaelen's breath caught in his throat. "Who's there?"
The voice did not answer, but the egg began to glow brighter, the heat intensifying until Kaelen could feel it searing his skin even from several paces away. A crack appeared along the surface of the egg, spreading like a spider's web. The ancient chamber trembled, and the ground shook once more.
The crack widened, and a blinding light burst forth from within. Kaelen shielded his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as the ancient magic swirled around him. He could hear the sound of wings unfurling, of claws scraping against stone.
And then, with a final burst of light, the egg shattered.
From within the remains of the shell, a creature emerged—small, no larger than a hound, but unmistakable. It was a dragon, its scales gleaming like polished silver, its eyes glowing with an intelligence far beyond that of any mere beast. The dragon stretched its wings, letting out a soft, high-pitched roar that seemed to reverberate through the very walls of the chamber.
Kaelen stared, his mouth dry. He had found it—the last dragon of Eldorath. And with its awakening, the world as he knew it would never be the same.
As the dragon's gaze locked onto his, Kaelen felt a deep connection form between them, as if the creature was speaking directly into his soul.
**"The world awaits,"** the dragon's voice whispered in his mind. **"The age of dragons begins anew."**
And with that, Kaelen knew his destiny was sealed.