The Heir Of The Last Dragon

"Damn it. I am so exhausted." A young man who was only twenty years old spoke, but the lines on his face told the story of a burden far older. "When will this be over?" he asked while gazing at the dark sky above his head.

The sky of Lumireth was never truly blue. It had been three hundred years since light abandoned this city, leaving behind a permanent gray veil that crept down from the peaks of Dreadspire Citadel. For Ethan Eldravar, the bone-chilling cold was his only loyal companion as he hauled a stack of firewood on his weary shoulders.

"Move it, wood rat!"

A kick landed squarely on Ethan's calf. He fell forward. The stack of wood scattered across the filthy black mud. Ethan winced, feeling the sting in his knees as they struck the stones of the street.

In front of him stood two city soldiers in silver armor that gleamed with arrogance. They were the guardians of a false peace in Lumireth, the front line of King Axandra's tyranny.

"Look at this," one of the soldiers laughed, the tip of his polished boot stepping on Ethan's hand, which was stained with forest dust. "Eldravar? A name once exalted as a knight, now reduced to a servant of the mud. You smell foul, Ethan."

Ethan did not look up. He clenched his fists against the ground. Rage burned in his chest, but the image of his dying father at home held his tongue. Fighting these soldiers meant a death sentence for his family.

"I am sorry, Sir," Ethan whispered hoarsely.

"Speak up, trash!" The soldier spat directly toward Ethan's firewood. "Take these wet logs to the barracks. We need a bonfire, and consider this your protection tax for this month."

"But Sir ... this is the last of the wood I can sell for my father's medicine," Ethan tried to plead.

The soldier only snorted, then kicked Ethan's face lightly, just enough to make him stagger back to the ground.

"Medicine? Why treat the dead? Leave before I decide to break your hand."

Ethan could only watch their retreating backs as they carried away the results of his hard work all day. His pride was shattered, trampled into the mud of Lumireth that never dried.

The Eldravar family home was nothing more than a wooden shack on the outskirts of the city of Valtherion, near the dark forest that everyone feared. When Ethan entered, the bitter smell of herbal concoctions greeted him.

"You are home late, Ethan," a deep voice greeted from the corner of the room.

It was Bryan Draven. Ethan's uncle, who was only nine years older than him, but possessed a much sturdier build and eyes that were always alert. Bryan was sharpening his worn-out dagger.

"The city soldiers seized the wood again?" Bryan guessed without looking.

Ethan only nodded dejectedly. He walked toward the wooden bed in the corner of the room. Mr. Eldravar, his father, lay weak. His cough was dry and suffocating, the remains of the plague that had taken his mother fifteen years ago.

"Do not hate them, Ethan," his father's voice sounded raspy. "Hate will only feed the darkness in Dreadspire."

"I do not hate them, Father. I hate myself for being unable to do anything," Ethan replied flatly.

Bryan stood up, patting Ethan's shoulder firmly.

"Eat the rest of this bread. We need our strength. Tonight, we must go to the forest. That egg ... its temperature is starting to change."

Ethan looked up. For ten years, they had hidden a great secret inside a hidden cave in the dark forest. An egg they had found when Ethan was still a child. An object that was supposed to be a hope, but for a decade had only been a silent, lifeless burden.

***

The dark forest at night was a place where death lurked behind the shadows of ancient trees. However, for Ethan and Bryan, this was a sanctuary.

Inside a small cave covered by thorny bushes, the egg was placed. Usually, its surface was as cold as ice stone. But tonight, as Ethan touched it, he felt something different.

Ethan startled. "Bryan, do you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Bryan approached, his hand still gripping the hilt of his sword.

"A heartbeat. This egg ... it is beating."

Suddenly, fine cracks appeared on the surface of the dark shell. A sharp, icy blue light burst out, illuminating the damp cave walls. The air around them suddenly became extremely cold, until their breath turned into white vapor.

The shell shattered completely. A small creature, with dark blue scales and wings that were still wet, emerged from the ruins of the egg. Its eyes were glowing gold, staring directly into Ethan's eyes.

“Ethan ....”

Ethan fell back. The voice was not heard in his ears, but rather echoed directly within his soul.

"What was that sound?" Bryan asked, confused. "He is only growling, Ethan."

"You did not hear it?" Ethan whispered in disbelief. "He called my name."

The little dragon, Nyxherion, or Rion, -the name they had given him since he was still in the egg- crawled slowly toward Ethan. As his small nose touched Ethan's palm, an extraordinary jolt of energy surged through the young man's entire body. His exhaustion vanished. The wound on his knee closed instantly.

"He is the last dragon," a strange voice broke the silence.

An old man in tattered gray robes stood at the mouth of the cave. He held an old wooden staff, his eyes looking at Rion with an expression that was hard to decipher.

"Who are you?" Bryan immediately drew his sword, standing in front of Ethan.

"Only a wanderer who sees the future," the man answered calmly. "Dreadspire has already sensed his presence. King Axandra will not let a single seed of light live. Young man, that dragon is your savior, or perhaps your destruction."

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked, while cradling Rion, who was starting to tremble.

"Take him away. Find the ancient valley behind the northern mountains. Only there can he awaken completely," the fortune teller gave a final warning before disappearing into the darkness of the forest as if swallowed by the shadows.

***

Morning had not yet arrived when they returned home, but Lumireth was already ablaze.

Twenty mounted soldiers, led by a commander with a dark aura, had already surrounded the small Eldravar family home. Mr. Eldravar was dragged out onto the ground.

"Where is the object?" the commander shouted. "We felt a magical energy from this house!"

"We do not know anything!" Mr. Eldravar cried out amidst his coughing.

Ethan and Bryan appeared from behind the bushes. Seeing his father being kicked, Ethan's blood boiled. He forgot his fear. He forgot his position as a day laborer.

"Let him go!" Ethan screamed.

The commander turned, smiling cynically.

"Ah, the wood carrier. Soldiers, search his bag!"

Two soldiers stepped forward. Rion, hidden behind Ethan's cloak, began to hiss. Ethan could feel Rion's anger, and suddenly, that anger became his strength.

As the soldier reached out to snatch Ethan's cloak, Ethan's hand moved faster than the human eye could see. He caught the soldier's wrist, and with one snap, the sound of a breaking bone was heard.

Everyone went silent.

The rusted sword hanging at Ethan's waist suddenly glowed with an icy blue light. A deadly chill spread from his palm to the metal blade.

"What are you doing, Ethan?" Bryan murmured in shock.

Ethan did not answer. He felt as if his heartbeat had synchronized with the heartbeat of the small dragon behind his clothes. His reflexes were sharp, his vision became clear, and the fear that had haunted him for years vanished, replaced by the instinct of a hunter.

"Kill him!" the commander ordered.

Five soldiers charged at once. Ethan swung his sword. The rusted metal now sliced through the enemy's silver armor as if it were only paper. The speed and precision were no longer those of an ordinary human.

In a matter of seconds, three soldiers fell with frozen wounds in their chests.

Ethan stood tall in the middle of the chaos, his breathing steady, his eyes flashing gold like the dragon in his arms. He stared at the commander with a cold gaze.

"Lumireth may have lost its light," Ethan whispered, his voice deep and full of authority. "But I will not let you extinguish the rest."

That night, Ethan Eldravar was no longer an ordinary man who was despised. He was the heir of a legend that was supposed to be extinct. And for King Axandra, this was the beginning of the most real nightmare.