The storm was alive.

It roared and raged, its voice a deafening cacophony of wind and water. Waves as tall as mountains crashed against one another, their icy spray stinging the air. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the small, fragile boat that was being tossed like a leaf in the tempest. Inside the boat, a child no older than two huddled under a soaked blanket, his tiny body trembling with fear.

The boy didn't know where he was or how he had gotten here. He didn't even know his own name. All he knew was the cold, the noise, and the overwhelming sense of being alone. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his amber eyes, wide with terror, darted around as the boat rocked violently. He whimpered, clutching the edges of the boat with tiny, shaking hands.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the storm began to calm. The waves grew smaller, the wind less fierce. The boat drifted aimlessly for a while before bumping gently against something solid. The boy peeked out from under the blanket, his tear-streaked face pale and frightened.

He was on a beach. The sand was pale and soft, stretching out in both directions as far as he could see. Behind him loomed a dense, dark forest, its trees towering and unfamiliar. The air was thick with strange smells—earth, salt, and something else, something wild and ancient.

The boy whimpered again, his small hands clutching the edge of the boat. He didn't want to leave. The boat was the only thing he knew, the only thing that felt safe. But the beach was quiet, and the forest was quiet, and the storm was gone. Slowly, hesitantly, he crawled out of the boat and onto the sand.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he froze. A sound echoed from the forest—a soft, slithering noise that sent shivers down his spine. His amber eyes widened, and he stumbled backward, falling onto the sand. He wanted to cry, to scream, but the sound caught in his throat.

From the shadows of the forest, a patch of darkness detached itself, slithering across the forest floor like a living shadow. It was flat and featureless, its surface rippling like black silk. The boy's breath hitched as the creature rose, unfolding itself until it loomed over him, its form shifting and undulating in the dim light.

It was the lethifold.

The boy didn't know its name, but he could feel its hunger, its malevolence. The lethifold moved closer, its silent approach more terrifying than any growl or roar. The boy stumbled backward, his tiny hands clutching at the air as if he could push the creature away. Tears streamed down his face as he let out a small, terrified whimper.

The lethifold paused, its form rippling as if considering its prey. Then, with a sudden, fluid motion, it lunged.

The boy screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror. He closed his eyes, bracing for the end, but it never came. Instead, he felt a strange warmth spreading through him, a tingling sensation that started in his chest and radiated outward. When he opened his eyes, the lethifold had stopped, its form hovering just inches away.

The boy's fear was still there, sharp and overwhelming, but beneath it, he felt something else—a connection. He could feel the lethifold's thoughts, its emotions. It wasn't just hunger; it was curiosity, confusion. The boy didn't understand how, but he knew the lethifold could feel him too.

"P-Please…" the boy whispered, his voice trembling. "D-Don't hurt me…"

The lethifold's form rippled, and for a moment, it seemed to hesitate. Then, slowly, it began to retreat, slithering back into the shadows of the forest. The boy watched it go, his heart still pounding in his chest. He didn't understand what had just happened, but he knew one thing: he was alive.

Exhausted and trembling, the boy curled up on the sand, his tiny body shaking with sobs. He didn't know where he was or what would happen next. All he knew was that he was scared, and he wanted to go home.

But the island wasn't done with him yet.

A low, rumbling growl echoed through the air, and the boy's breath hitched. He looked up, his amber eyes wide with fear, as the ground beneath him began to tremble. From the forest emerged a creature so magnificent and terrifying that the boy couldn't look away.

It was a dragon.

Its scales shimmered like molten gold, catching the faint light of the moon and reflecting it in a dazzling display. Its wings, folded against its massive body, were tipped with spines that glinted like swords. The dragon's eyes, a deep, burning amber, locked onto the boy, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

The boy whimpered, scrambling backward as the dragon approached. But before he could get far, the lethifold reappeared, slithering out of the shadows to block his path. The boy was trapped, caught between the two creatures.

The dragon stopped a few feet away, its massive head tilting as it studied the boy. Then, to the boy's surprise, it made a sound—a deep, rumbling purr that vibrated through the air. The sound was warm, almost comforting, and for a moment, the boy's fear lessened.

The lethifold, too, seemed to respond to the dragon's presence. Its form rippled, and it moved closer to the boy, but this time, there was no hunger in its movements. Instead, it seemed… curious.

The boy hesitated, then reached out with a shaking hand. The lethifold's surface rippled as his tiny fingers brushed against it, and once again, he felt that strange connection. He could feel the lethifold's thoughts, its emotions. It wasn't trying to hurt him. It was trying to understand him.

The dragon's voice echoed in his mind, deep and resonant. "You are not like the others, little one. You can hear us. You can understand."

The boy didn't know how to respond. He was still scared, still overwhelmed, but he could feel the truth in the dragon's words. He could hear them. He could understand them.

The dragon lowered its head, its golden eyes meeting the boy's. "You are safe now," it said. "I am Aurum, Guardian of the Golden Flame. And this," it gestured to the lethifold with a flick of its tail, "is Umbra. We will protect you."

The boy didn't know what to say. He was too young to understand the weight of the dragon's words, but he could feel their sincerity. For the first time since the storm had taken him, he felt a glimmer of hope.

As Aurum crouched low, allowing the boy to climb onto its back, the lethifold slithered closer, its form rippling with what could only be described as curiosity. The boy hesitated, then reached out to touch it once more.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The lethifold's form rippled in response, and for a moment, the boy thought he felt something like warmth emanating from it. Then, with a powerful leap, Aurum took to the skies, carrying the boy above the forest and giving him his first glimpse of the island.

From above, the island was a breathtaking sight—a land of vibrant colors and impossible beauty. Rivers of silver wound through emerald forests, and mountains of crystal rose in the distance, their peaks glowing faintly in the moonlight. Strange creatures roamed below: stags with antlers of living wood, serpents with scales that shimmered like rainbows, and wolves with fur that glowed like the stars.

But the boy was too young to appreciate the beauty. He clung to Aurum, his small body trembling as the wind whipped around them. He didn't know where they were going or what would happen next. All he knew was that he was scared, and he wanted to go home.

Yet, as Aurum's warmth seeped into him and the lethifold's presence lingered in his mind, the boy felt something else—a sense of belonging. He didn't understand it, but he knew one thing: he was no longer alone.