The snow fell gently that night, blanketing the earth in silence. Beneath the towering gates of the Higan Temple, a bundle lay motionless, save for the soft, rhythmic cries of a newborn child. The baby's wails echoed faintly through the wintry air, reaching the ears of an elderly monk making his evening rounds.
Master Hiroshi paused, his breath forming a misty cloud in the frigid air. He tilted his head, listening. Another cry pierced the quiet, tugging at his heart. Wrapping his robes tighter against the cold, he followed the sound to the temple's grand entrance, where the faint outline of a bundle became visible under the dim lantern light.
"A child?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hiroshi bent down, his old joints protesting, and carefully pulled back the thick fabric wrapping the baby. Wide, tear-filled eyes met his, their color an unusual shade of shimmering gold. The child's cheeks were flushed from the cold, but as Hiroshi cradled him close to his chest, warmth seemed to seep into the old monk's bones.
Attached to the bundle was a single piece of parchment, hastily scrawled with ink:
"His name is Kaien. Protect him. He is the last hope."
Hiroshi frowned, his fingers brushing over the words. They carried the weight of desperation and mystery, and the monk's instincts told him this child was no ordinary orphan. As he adjusted the blankets, something cold and metallic brushed his hand.
A necklace dangled from the baby's neck, its chain fine and delicate, yet surprisingly sturdy. The pendant was unlike anything Hiroshi had ever seen: a small dragon coiled around a gemstone that seemed to pulse faintly with an inner light. When he touched it, he felt a strange warmth spread through his fingers, as if the necklace itself were alive.
"A charm?" Hiroshi whispered, examining the intricate craftsmanship. The dragon's eyes, inlaid with tiny rubies, seemed to gleam in the dim light.
"Kaien," he said softly, gazing down at the child. The name felt ancient, carrying a weight far beyond its simplicity.
The baby cooed softly, his cries subsiding as Hiroshi rocked him. The monk stood, holding Kaien close, and carried him into the warmth of the temple. Inside, a small group of acolytes had gathered, their faces alight with curiosity.
"Master Hiroshi, what is it?" asked Ichiro, a young novice.
"A gift," Hiroshi replied cryptically, his eyes never leaving Kaien. "Or perhaps a test from the heavens."
The temple became Kaien's home from that night forward. The monks raised him as one of their own, teaching him the sacred practices of meditation, discipline, and harmony. But as the years passed, it became clear that Kaien was different.
At the age of five, he could run faster and jump higher than boys twice his age. His golden eyes seemed to see things others couldn't, and his instincts were sharper than any monk in the temple. During meditation, his presence radiated a calm so profound that even Master Hiroshi found himself humbled in his company.
The necklace remained with him always, its pendant resting against his chest as if it were a part of him. No matter how many times Hiroshi or the others tried to examine it closely, the gemstone's faint glow seemed to deepen only in Kaien's hands.
And then there were the dreams.
Kaien often woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, his small hands clutching at the pendant. He spoke of dragons—majestic, terrifying creatures soaring through endless skies. He described their scales, their roars, and a voice that called to him from beyond the mountains.
"The dragons are speaking to me," he told Hiroshi one morning, his voice tinged with both wonder and fear. "They say I have to find them."
Hiroshi's expression grew somber, though he tried to hide it from the boy. He had seen many strange things in his life, but this—this was beyond anything he could explain. The words on that parchment echoed in his mind: "Protect him. He is the last hope."
The monk knew that Kaien's destiny lay far beyond the temple walls, though the thought of letting him go filled Hiroshi with dread. For now, he chose to keep Kaien's dreams and the mysterious necklace a secret from the others, watching over the boy with a quiet vigilance.
But the winds of fate were already stirring. Far to the east, in the shadow of the Dragon's Spine mountains, a storm was brewing—one that would soon intertwine Kaien's life with forces he could not yet comprehend.
And so, on that snowy night, the temple unknowingly became the cradle of a legend. Kaien's journey was just beginning, but the whispers of the dragons—and the faint glow of the pendant—had already begun to shape his path.