The moon hung low over the Kingdom of Valkathar, casting its pale glow across the sprawling plains that stretched endlessly beneath it. In the heart of the kingdom, nestled within a small, weathered house on the outskirts of the town, a boy lay curled in his bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. His name was Aelric Ignis, and at the age of ten, he was supposed to be on the verge of greatness—at least, that was the expectation.
On the day a child turned ten in Valkathar, they were bound by ancient magic to summon their first familiar. It was a rite of passage that every child in the kingdom eagerly anticipated. The familiar, a spirit or creature summoned from another realm, would become their companion, their strength in the trials that lay ahead. Those who could summon powerful beings were destined for greatness; those who failed were forgotten, abandoned to live out their lives in obscurity.
For Aelric, the day had come and gone without the fanfare of others. It was the Summoning Rite, the sacred night when a child was meant to invoke their first summon. Yet, as he had feared, there was no flash of magic, no crackling power, no glowing sigil—nothing. He had failed.
His hands trembled as he recalled the words of the town elders, their faces etched with pity and disdain as they whispered about him. The boy who couldn't summon. The boy who would never amount to anything.
"You'll never be a true summoner, Aelric," his father had told him, voice filled with both frustration and defeat. "I don't know why I thought you'd be different. You've failed us."
The failure hung around him like a dense fog, and every time he looked into the eyes of the people in his village, he saw that same pity. They saw him as weak, as broken—a burden on the world.
But Aelric's heart did not yield to despair. His mind was sharp, his will unbroken. He would show them. He would find his way, even if it meant walking a path darker than any of them could comprehend.
The evening after the rite, while the kingdom slept, Aelric made his way into the forest. The trees, tall and ancient, loomed like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches twisting and creaking under the weight of their centuries-old secrets. He didn't know what he was searching for—perhaps an answer, perhaps a sign, perhaps even a chance to prove himself. All he knew was that he could not accept failure. Not yet.
The air was thick with magic, the kind that only whispered when the time was right. Aelric had heard stories—legends, really—of summoners who had transcended the normal bounds of magic, of those who had unlocked forbidden powers to summon not just creatures, but entire realms. He'd read of ancient contracts and binding pacts, of summoners who could command even the most powerful of demons and dragons. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was something deeper hidden in the fabric of summoning, something he could tap into, something that could break the curse of his failure.
He reached a clearing, the ground soft beneath his feet. The air was heavier here, thick with power. Aelric closed his eyes and knelt, his mind focused, his breath slow and steady. He stretched out his senses, calling for something—anything—to answer.
His words were whispered at first, barely audible, but then they began to grow louder, more commanding.
"Ancient powers of the forgotten realms… heed my call. I am Aelric Ignis, and I demand that you come forth. I am the one you seek."
The words hung in the air, crackling with energy. Aelric's heart raced, his hands trembling as the ground beneath him began to shift. His pulse quickened as he felt the air grow heavier, as if something vast and ancient was stirring. The magic he was summoning was unlike anything he had been taught. It was raw, unrefined—untamed.
The forest darkened, the shadows lengthening as a swirling vortex of light and shadow opened before him. Aelric's heart pounded in his chest as a figure began to emerge from the abyss. At first, it was nothing more than a shape—a shifting form, flickering in and out of existence. But then, as the magic solidified, the figure became clearer—a being of unimaginable size, its presence oppressive, powerful, and ancient.
Aelric's breath caught in his throat. It was a dragon.
The creature's scales shimmered like obsidian, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. It was unlike any dragon Aelric had ever read about in his books. This one radiated power, wisdom, and an ancient, primal fury.
Aelric's mouth went dry as the creature's voice, deep and thunderous, echoed in his mind.
"You have called me, mortal. But tell me, why should I answer your summons?"
Aelric felt a cold shiver run down his spine, but he did not falter. He had summoned this being, and now he would make it his.
"I seek power," Aelric said, his voice steady despite the fear racing through his veins. "I seek to control the realms, to command those who would oppose me. You will serve me."
A long, piercing silence followed, the tension in the air so thick it felt suffocating. And then, the dragon spoke again, its voice carrying a deep, amused tone.
"You think you can control me? You, a child who cannot even summon a simple familiar?"
Aelric's heart hammered in his chest. But his mind was sharp, his desire for power stronger than the fear. He had no choice but to stand his ground.
"I will not be weak," he declared, his voice unwavering. "You will serve me. Not out of kindness, but because you have no choice. I will bind you."
The dragon's eyes flashed, its gaze piercing through Aelric's very soul. "You dare to bind me?"
"Yes," Aelric said, his voice laced with the cold determination of a man who would stop at nothing. "I will bind you to me, body and soul. And you will obey, or I will break you."
The air around them crackled, the magical pressure mounting to a breaking point. The dragon seemed to consider his words, the silence stretching for what felt like an eternity. Then, with a single, resounding word, the dragon responded.
"So be it, mortal."
The bond was formed.
Aelric could feel the immense power surging through him as the dragon's essence was tethered to his very soul. But it wasn't just the dragon's strength that flowed into him—it was something else, something darker, something far more dangerous.
Aelric smiled to himself as the dragon bowed its head before him.
He had done it. He had summoned the first of many. And this was just the beginning.