The Night of Fire and Ice
The flames swallowed everything.
Faye sprinted through the snow-covered ruins, her breath ragged, blood dripping from a deep gash along her ribs. The bitter cold stung her wounds, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not when death followed so close behind.
The fortress that had once been her home—her prison—was collapsing behind her. Walls crumbled. Stone towers split apart under the weight of fire and treachery. Shadows moved within the inferno, the figures of her hunters.
They had come for her.
"Kill her before she awakens."
The words still rang in her ears. Whispered in council chambers. Shouted by men she once trusted.
She had never understood why they feared her. She was nothing to them—an orphan, a discarded noble, a woman with no power. But tonight, everything changed.
Faye dodged between the trees, her boots crunching in the snow. The scent of smoke clung to her like a curse. She was fast, but they were faster. The elite hunters of the noble houses, trained for this kind of pursuit.
"Damn them all."
A shadow lunged from the darkness.
A silver blade slashed toward her throat—she ducked, twisting at the last second. The steel barely missed, but her ribs weren't as lucky. Pain seared through her side, hot and sharp.
She retaliated on instinct. One step forward, knee to the gut, elbow to the throat. The assassin crumpled, but another took his place.
They weren't fighting to capture her. They were fighting to kill her.
A dagger flashed toward her heart.
And then—
The forest froze.
The Frost Dragon's Awakening
A deafening roar split the night.
It was not the roar of any mortal beast. It was older, deeper—resonating through the land like the shattering of glaciers.
The air itself froze.
Faye staggered, turning her gaze skyward.
From the swirling storm above, a colossal form emerged.
A dragon.
Not just any dragon. The Frost Dragon. The last of its kind.
It descended like a force of nature, its wings vast enough to cast a shadow over the burning fortress. Shimmering ice formed where it flew, freezing the flames in an instant.
The soldiers hunting Faye screamed in terror.
Too late.
The dragon opened its jaws—
And a storm of absolute winter consumed the battlefield.
Men and steel turned to ice, frozen in time before shattering into fragments. The fires that had swallowed the castle died in a breath of frost.
The dragon landed before her, the ground trembling beneath its weight.
Faye felt something in her chest ignite.
Not fire—something colder, something older.
A memory. A bond. A power long buried.
And when the dragon's gaze met hers—ancient, knowing, and waiting—she understood.
She was not alone.
The Frost Dragon's Call
Faye stood frozen—not from the biting wind, not from the wounds bleeding into the snow, but from the sheer force of the presence before her.
The Frost Dragon loomed like a living storm, its breath turning the air into crystalline mist. Every movement of its massive body sent tremors through the earth, its ice-blue eyes locked onto hers.
It wasn't just looking at her.
It was waiting.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. Every survival instinct screamed at her to run—but something deep inside whispered stay.
A memory stirred. Something ancient. Something buried.
The runes on her wrist burned.
She flinched, gasping as a searing cold raced through her veins, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Not pain. Not magic. Something deeper.
Something waking up.
The assassins who had hunted her lay shattered in ice, but more were coming. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. She heard them crashing through the trees, shouting orders.
She had no time to understand what was happening.
A gust of wind—not from the storm, but from the dragon's wings.
The beast crouched, lowering its massive form. Its eyes remained locked with hers.
It wanted her to climb on.
"This is insane."
Faye took a step forward, hesitating.
The Frost Dragon did not wait.
It moved faster than something that size should be able to, its massive head snapping toward her. Before she could react, a surge of icy power wrapped around her, lifting her from the ground.
The moment she touched the dragon's back, the world shifted.
Her body knew what to do before her mind could catch up. Her hands gripped the ridges of its frozen scales. Her legs locked around its sides.
And then—
The dragon leapt.
The ground vanished beneath them as they shot into the sky like an arrow of ice.
The Hunt Begins
The wind roared in her ears as the dragon soared through the night.
Faye had never flown before, but her body adjusted instinctively. Her fingers tightened against the dragon's hide as they climbed higher, until the burning fortress became nothing but an ember far below.
She barely had time to breathe before the first arrow shot past her.
She turned sharply—not her body, but the dragon's. And it responded.
More assassins had mounted their own dragons. The Hunt had not ended. It had just begun.
A formation of armored riders pursued her through the storm, their beasts smaller than the Frost Dragon but built for speed.
They were coming fast.
Faye had no weapon. No plan. No control over what was happening.
But as she clenched her fists, the runes on her arms flared with cold fire.
And she knew—
This was not where she died.