The night burned red. Fire rained from the sky as wings blotted out the moon, the roar of dragons shaking the ground beneath the hunters’ feet. Kaelen fought alongside his kin, bow taut in his hands, loosing arrow after arrow into the dark storm of scales. Each shaft found its mark, some glancing off armored hides, others sinking deep enough to enrage the beasts.
He moved as he had trained his whole life—calm, precise, unyielding. Yet even his steady hand trembled as the air filled with heat and screams. A crimson dragon swooped low, scattering the ranks; Kaelen ducked under its talons, rolling across the scorched dirt. He rose, loosed another arrow, and it shrieked as the tip buried into its wing joint.
But then the world itself seemed to darken.
A shadow vast as a mountain swept over him. He looked up just in time to see an enormous black dragon descending, its wings spanning farther than the village square. Its eyes burned like molten gold as it struck downward, jaws opening wide. Kaelen raised his bow, but it was useless—talons the size of scythes closed around his torso, ripping him from the ground as easily as lifting a leaf.
The village shrank below, the fire and chaos blurring into a smear of light and smoke. Wind tore at him as the dragon climbed higher, higher, until the air thinned and the world was swallowed by cold and silence. Kaelen struggled, knives flashing in his hands, but every strike glanced harmlessly off the creature’s midnight scales. It did not eat him. It did not crush him. It carried him.
At last, the dragon veered toward the mountains. Peaks like jagged teeth pierced the sky, snow glittering faintly on their crowns. The beast alighted on a narrow ledge before a yawning cavern mouth. With terrifying delicacy, it set Kaelen down, its eyes locking onto him with a silent command: walk.
His legs shook but moved anyway, driven not by obedience but by the certainty that refusal meant death. The dragon loomed behind, its breath steaming the air as he stepped into the cave.
The passage opened into a vast chamber lit by veins of glowing crystal in the stone. There, waiting in the cold light, stood a woman.
She was clad in dark armor that shimmered like scales, every plate forged with artistry beyond human skill. A golden belt cinched her waist, set with gemstones that caught the glow. A cape draped her slender form, and upon her brow rested a crown of dark metal, its long, stylized spikes curving like dragon horns.
Her face was flawless yet cold, an oval frame around piercing eyes that fixed on him with venom. Straight, black hair spilled down her back like a river of night. She held herself with such poise that even stillness radiated command.
Kaelen froze, bow useless at his side.
“You,” she said at last, her voice calm but edged with fire. “Another hunter.”
Her gaze narrowed, hatred glinting. “For generations, your kind has slaughtered mine. Hatchlings in their nests, mothers protecting their young, ancient guardians who harmed no one. You call it tradition. You call it honor. But it is bloodlust.”
Kaelen swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to speak, to say he never sought needless cruelty, that he had questioned their ways his whole life. But under her stare, he felt as though his chest had been laid bare, every hidden thought exposed.
“I am the queen of dragons,” she continued, her voice resonant, echoing through the cavern. “The Mother of Dragons, as your ancestors once whispered in fear. For centuries I have watched from the peaks, letting you live, letting you prosper. But you hunted, and you killed, and you burned. And now…” Her eyes shimmered, anger edged with pain. “Now you have forced me to change their way. To make war upon you, before you wipe us from the skies entirely.”
Kaelen’s hand trembled at his side. Her hatred was a blade, her sorrow a weight that pressed upon him. He thought of his mother’s stories, of dragons as noble, proud creatures, not just monsters. He thought of the scales he collected in secret, hidden away like shameful treasures.