The cold night air stung my lungs as I slipped through the academy's gates. Every shadow made me flinch, but I couldn't turn back. The old scale in my pocket felt warm, almost like it was pushing me to keep going.
"This is wild," I muttered under my breath, crouching behind a big rock as a group of senior dragon hunters walked past. "Totally wild."
But I had to know. The dreams had been getting stronger – visions of a young dragon, barely larger than a horse, hiding in the caves beyond the academy's walls. Each night, its thoughts had become clearer in my mind, like a radio signal slowly coming into focus.
Help... scared... hungry...
Those weren't actual words, but more like emotions that formed in my mind, as if they were being projected straight into my thoughts. It's been three months since I touched that dragon scale, and ever since, my whole understanding of dragons has shifted. Everything about them feels different now.
I looked through my pack one more time: dried meat, my training dagger (not that it would help much against a dragon), and a first-aid kit. The meat wasn't for me.
The cave entrance stood ahead, like a sharp, dark opening in the mountain. Thanks to the scale's power, my senses were stronger, and I could pick up the faint smell of smoke—and something else... fear? Can I really sense emotions now?
"Hello?" I called softly into the darkness. "I... I brought food."
A deep rumble came from inside the cave. My heart pounded, but the scale grew warmer in my hand, like it was trying to comfort me. *Not danger... help...* The feeling was clear this time.
"That's right," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I want to help."
Something shifted in the darkness. Two eyes glowed in the moonlight – not the scary red I had always been told about, but a gentle amber, like sunlight on autumn leaves. The young dragon stepped forward slowly, its scales a deep blue-gray, like stormy clouds.
Food? The thought was clearer now, mixed with a bit of hope and uncertainty.
I slowly reached into my bag and pulled out some dried meat. "Here. It's not a lot, but..."
The dragon crept closer. Now that it was near, I could see scars on its sides—maybe from battles with other dragons or running from slayers. It was smaller than I expected, probably younger. No wonder it had been hiding.
As it came closer, the scale in my pocket felt almost hot. I pulled it out without thinking. The dragon's eyes grew wide.
*Mother-scale!* The thought struck me hard. You-have-mother-scale!
"Your mother's scale?" I gasped. "This belonged to your mother?"
Images rushed into my mind: a huge dragon, strong but kind, protecting its young. I saw the same dragon fighting against dragon slayers, falling with their swords. It was a final gift—a scale filled with power, lost in the mess of battle.
{System Alert: Dragon Communication skill has evolved. You can now perceive dragon memories.}
The message popped up in front of me, but I hardly paid attention. All I could feel was the young dragon's sadness... and its flickering hope.
"I'm really sorry," I whispered. "I didn't know."
The dragon came closer, almost touching me. Its thoughts were suddenly very clear.
Not your fault. You're different. You listen.
"What's your name?" I asked, feeling a bit silly. Did dragons even have names?
I feel the wind rushing through the mountain peaks, like it's alive. The storms are gathering as the sky turns dark at dusk. In my mind, I call it "Storm-at-Dusk".
"Storm-at-Dusk," I said again. "I'm Nedu."
Nedu-friend? The words came with a mix of hope and worry.
"Yes," I replied with confidence. "Nedu-friend."
Storm-at-Dusk made a soft trilling sound, and suddenly I felt warmth flood through our connection. The dragon was happy.
We spent the next hour communicating. It wasn't exactly like human speech – dragons thought in images, emotions, and sensory impressions that the scale somehow helped me understand. Storm-at-Dusk told me of other dragons in hiding, of the fear and anger that drove them to attack humans, of the desire for peace that some of them harbored.
"Not all dragons want to fight us," I said, surprised by my own words. "You're smart, you have families and traditions... Everything we've been taught is wrong."
"I've seen many fights and a lot of death on both sides," Storm-at-Dusk said. "We need a bridge. We need understanding."
The implications hit me like a thunderbolt. This was why I'd found the scale. This was why I had these abilities. I wasn't meant to be just another dragon slayer – I was meant to be something else entirely.
A bell rang far away from the academy—it was the midnight watch change. I quickly stood up.
"I have to go," I said, feeling a bit sad. "But I'll come back tomorrow night. I'll bring more food."
Careful, friend Nedu, Storm-at-Dusk warned. Others don't understand. Others fear.
"I know." I reached out hesitantly, then placed my hand on the dragon's snout. Its scales were warm and smooth. "But I'm not afraid anymore."
As I slipped back into the academy, my mind buzzed with thoughts and questions. How many other dragons, like Storm-at-Dusk, were out there? Was there a chance to end this old war? And, most importantly, who could I trust with what I had found?
The scale hummed softly in my pocket, reminding me of the huge responsibility I now had. I wasn't just Nedu Liam, the small thirteen-year-old dragon slayer trainee anymore. I was maybe the first human in two hundred years to really talk to a dragon and see them as more than just monsters.
A message popped up on my screen: New Quest - Bridge the Divide: Start building trust between humans and dragons. Reward: Unknown.
I smiled at the notification. For once, the system's quest matched what I felt was right in my heart. I couldn't wait for tomorrow to arrive.