Ember Born

Mill heaven at dawn

 Kael stood at the loft window, his hands shaking as he stared out into the pitch-black night.

The village square was dead silent. The hooded stranger was gone. It was as if the figure had evaporated into thin air, leaving only the chilling words echoing inside Kael's mind.

I found you, little king.

Kael slid down the wall until his knees hit the floor. He pulled his legs in tight against his chest, clutching his hair with both hands. His breath came in fast, shallow gasps.

Who was that stranger? What did "little king" mean?

He was just Kael. An orphan. A boy who spent his days hauling heavy water buckets, sweeping dirty floors, and dodging the angry fists of his master. He had no parents, no title, and no gold. So why had that hooded creature looked at him like he was someone important?

Kael did not sleep for the rest of the night. Every shadow on the wall looked like a crouching figure. Every gust of wind rattling the wooden shutters sounded like a whisper calling his name. He stayed glued to the floorboards, waiting for the sunrise, praying that the morning light would prove the stranger was just another bad dream.

When the pale blue light of dawn finally crept through the window, Kael forced himself to stand up. His body was stiff, and his eyes felt gritty from tiredness. But he could not afford to sit around and ponder his nightmares.

If he was late, Master Grim would make him pay.

Kael walked down the narrow ladder to the ground floor of the cottage, threw on his threadbare cloak, and stepped out into the chilly air of Millhaven.

Millhaven was a small, dusty town at the edge of the dark forest. It was a miserable place, filled with muddy dirt tracks, decaying wooden houses, and cold morning fogs. The town was ruled by trade and hard labor, and Kael sat at the very bottom of the food chain.

As Kael hurried toward the local stables, the morning sun broke over the horizon, painting the sky in pale shades of gold and gray. Millhaven was just beginning to wake up.

He arrived at the stables just as Master Grim was unlocking the heavy wooden front gates.

Master Grim was a tall, obese man with a broad, red face, grease-stained clothes, and a permanent scowl. He ran the town’s water-hauling business and managed the local livestock. He was a tyrant who treated his workers like livestock.

"You're late, boy!" Grim roared the moment his small, black eyes landed on Kael. His thick voice cut through the quiet morning like a whip. "Five minutes past dawn! What do you think I pay you for? To sleep in while the horses die of thirst?"

"I'm sorry, Master Grim," Kael said quickly, keeping his eyes glued to the dirt floor. He kept his hands at his sides, bowing his head in submission. Experience had taught him that looking Grim in the eye only made the beatings worse. "I got started as fast as I could."

"Excuses! Always excuses!" Grim spat, tossing a heavy wooden bucket directly at Kael’s chest.

Kael caught the bucket with a dull thud, the wooden edge digging painfully into his ribs.

"Get to the river," Grim barked, pointing a thick, dirty finger toward the northern trail. "The big wooden trough in the main barn is empty. Fill it to the brim before the sun hits the top of the town hall. If there isn't water in that trough in an hour, you won't get a single crust of bread today. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Master Grim," Kael whispered.

"Then move your worthless legs!" Grim shouted, swinging his heavy leather belt through the air.

Kael ducked out of reach and hurried out of the yard, grabbing a second wooden bucket on his way out.

The morning quickly turned into a blur of agonizing work.

The path from the stables to the river was steep, rocky, and full of loose gravel. Kael filled both heavy buckets with icy river water, hooked his fingers tightly around the rough rope handles, and began the long trek back up the hill.

The wood cut into his palms. His shoulders burned with a deep, dull ache. With every step, the cold water sloshed over the edges of the buckets, soaking his pants and making his boots heavy with mud.

Haul. Step. Dump. Repeat.

Every time Kael paused to wipe the sweat from his eyes or rest his burning muscles, Grim’s angry voice would boom across the yard, threatening to dock his pay or kick him out onto the streets. Kael gritted his teeth, swallowed his pride, and kept moving. He dodged Grim's explosive temper, keeping his head low, working like an ox just to survive another day.

By the time the third barrel was filled, Kael’s hands were raw and bleeding. But as he walked back toward the river for his final trip, he noticed that the atmosphere in Millhaven had shifted.

The town was no longer just waking up; it was buzzing.

Small groups of townspeople were standing near the stone fountain in the center of the village. Farmers, blacksmiths, and merchants were huddled close together, talking in loud, panicked whispers.

Kael slowed his pace, setting the heavy buckets down near a wooden fence so he could listen.

"I tell you, it wasn't a wolf!" an old shepherd shouted, his voice trembling with fear. He was holding a iron pitchfork so tightly his knuckles were white. "No pack of wolves could do that in a single night!"

"Calm down, Miller," a butcher replied, crossing his thick arms. "It had to be wild dogs or a stray bear down from the mountains."

"A bear?" Miller laughed hysterically, shaking his head. "A bear doesn't rip through a heavy iron fence wire! A bear doesn't leave scorched earth behind! I lost twelve sheep overnight! Twelve! Slaughtered... mauled to pieces!"

Kael’s ears perk up at the word scorched. His heart gave a strange, violent leap inside his chest.

"The whole flock was torn apart," another farmer chimed in, looking nervously over his shoulder toward the dark woods. "I saw the field this morning. The grass was black, like someone held a giant torch to it. And the bodies... it didn't even eat them all. It just killed them for fun. There's a beast out there!"

"A beast?" a woman gasped, clutching her small child close to her apron. "What kind of beast?"

"Something unnatural," Miller whispered hoarsely, his eyes wide with horror. "Something big. It came down from the high peaks while we were all sleeping. If it can tear through a wooden barn and kill a dozen sheep in minutes, what happens when it gets hungry again tonight? What happens when it comes for our homes?"

A wave of fear washed over the gathering crowd. Parents grabbed their children, merchants began locking up their display carts early, and people looked toward the surrounding forest with eyes full of terror.

The town was completely gripped by panic. A monster was on the loose.

Kael stood by his water buckets, his mind spinning. A beast that leaves scorched earth? A beast that rips through iron and wood in seconds?

He looked down at his own trembling hands. In his mind, he saw the burning throne room from his dreams the roaring walls of orange flame, the heavy weight on his head. Was it just a coincidence? Or was the strange nightmare he had every night somehow connected to the monster terrorizing Millhaven?

"BOY!"

A loud, furious roar broke Kael out of his thoughts.

Master Grim was marching down the dirt road, his face dark purple with rage. He had a thick wooden switch in his raised hand.

"I told you to haul water, not stand around like a mindless fool!" Grim screamed, lunging forward.

Kael didn't wait to get hit. He quickly grabbed his empty buckets and sprinted toward the northern edge of the town, far away from Grim's reaching hands.

He ran past the last row of wooden cottages, past the town’s outer border, and out toward the open pastures where the livestock grazed.

He didn't know why he was running toward the sheep fields. Something was pulling him there. A strange, magnetic tug deep within his gut was telling him to look, to see the destruction for himself.

The northern pasture was quiet too quiet. Usually, the fields were full of bleating sheep and barking herd dogs. Today, the field was dead empty. The morning fog hung low over the yellow grass, thick and smelling faintly of smoke.

Kael walked carefully through the tall grass, his eyes scanning the ground.

After a few minutes, he found the site of the attack.

It looked like a battleground. The heavy wooden fence that enclosed the sheep pasture was smashed to splinters. Thick oak posts had been snapped like dry twigs, and the metal wire that ran between the posts was twisted and bent out of shape.

And just as the shepherd had said, the ground was scorched. A wide ring of grass was completely blackened, burnt down to ash. Deep, jagged claw marks were carved into the dirt, as if a giant predator had dug its feet in before pouncing.

Kael swallowed hard, his throat dry. This was no wolf. No bear could do this.

He stepped closer to the destroyed fence, ducking under a broken beam. He wanted to get a closer look at the claw marks.

As he leaned over, something caught the morning light.

High up on the twisted iron fence wire, snagged on a jagged metal barb, was a strange object.

Kael stepped closer and tilted his head.

It was a scale.

A single, massive animal scale, as large as the palm of Kael’s hand.

It didn't look like anything from a normal fish or snake. It was thick, heavy, and shaped like a jagged oval shield. The color was a dark, shimmering crimson so deep it almost looked like dried blood in the dim morning light.

Kael reached out a hand, his breath catching in his chest.

Slowly, carefully, he extended his index finger and touched the surface of the crimson scale.

The moment his skin made contact with the object, Kael gasped.

The scale was warm.

It was not warm from the morning sun. It was throbbing with an unnatural, internal heat a steady, rhythmic pulse that felt almost like a beating heart.

Kael stared at the strange, warm scale caught in the wire, his own heart hammering wildly against his ribs.