The Enchanted Dragon

CHAPTER ONE

THE BOY WHO HAD NO MAGIC

The morning I discovered that I was the only person in Eldoria who could not perform magic, the sky was bleeding gold.

I remember it because I had spent seventeen years believing that the world would look different when my life finally changed. I imagined thunder rolling across the mountains, ancient bells ringing from the towers of Eldoria Academy, and perhaps a mysterious voice whispering my name from somewhere beyond the clouds.

Instead, the sun rose quietly over Blackthorn Village, the chickens outside our cottage refused to stop making noise, and Professor Aldric shouted at me because I had nearly burned breakfast.

Again.

"Adrian! By the ancient spirits, what have you done to my kitchen?"

I stood beside the fireplace, holding a wooden spoon in one hand and staring at the blackened pot in the other.

"Technically," I said, "the porridge was already burning when I touched it."

Aldric stopped in the doorway.

He was a tall, thin man with silver hair, a crooked nose, and the kind of expression that made even the most innocent person feel guilty. He wore his usual brown robe, which had several patches along the sleeves, and his spectacles rested so low on his nose that I often wondered how he saw anything at all.

"Technically," he repeated, "you were supposed to stir it."

"I did stir it."

"With a wooden spoon, Adrian. Not with your hands."

I glanced at my right hand.

A tiny curl of smoke rose from my fingertips.

I quickly shoved them behind my back.

Aldric closed his eyes.

"Today of all days," he murmured. "You had to set breakfast on fire today."

"I didn't set it on fire."

He opened one eye and looked at the smoking pot.

"Of course not. The porridge simply decided to end its miserable existence."

Despite my embarrassment, I laughed.

Aldric tried to maintain his stern expression, but the corner of his mouth twitched. For a moment, the familiar warmth of our little cottage settled around us. Outside, the village was waking up. I could hear carts rattling over the cobblestone road, shopkeepers raising their shutters, and children practising their morning spells in the open square.

Somewhere nearby, a little girl squealed with delight as she made a cluster of blue butterflies dance above her head.

I watched them through the window.

One butterfly drifted towards the glass. Its glowing wings beat gently against the morning light before it turned and followed the others.

I wondered what it felt like to create something beautiful without having to work for it.

Then I remembered what day it was.

My smile disappeared.

"The examination," I whispered.

Aldric turned towards me.

"Yes, Adrian. The examination."

For seventeen years, I had waited for this day.

Every child in Eldoria was believed to possess some measure of magic. Some discovered their abilities when they were very young. Others waited until their fifteenth or sixteenth birthday before their powers began to emerge.

A few unfortunate souls needed special training to awaken what the academy instructors called dormant magic.

I had tried everything.

I had memorised ancient spells, studied the histories of legendary sorcerers, and practised the movements required to summon fire, water, wind, and light.

I had even spent three months attempting to levitate a spoon.

The spoon had remained firmly on the table.

On one particularly embarrassing occasion, I had sneezed while reciting a spell and caused every window in our cottage to open at once. Aldric had spent the rest of the afternoon insisting that I possessed a remarkable talent for ventilation.

But today was different.

Today, I would stand before the greatest magical institution in Eldoria and prove that there was more to me than my failures.

Today, I would become a student of the Eldoria Academy of Magic.

Or so I hoped.

"Eat something," Aldric said, placing a fresh piece of bread on the table.

"I can't."

"You can. You simply choose to behave as though your stomach has resigned from its duties."

"I'm nervous."

"I know."

"What if I fail?"

Aldric became unusually quiet.

He moved towards the window and looked out at the village. For several seconds, he watched the children practising their spells in the square.

Then he turned back to me.

"Listen carefully, Adrian. Whatever happens today, your worth will not be decided by a room full of magicians."

I looked down at my hands.

"That's easy for you to say. You can turn a piece of coal into a diamond."

"An inferior diamond, I might add."

I almost smiled.

He crossed the kitchen and rested one hand on my shoulder.

"Magic is not the only measure of a person. Courage matters. Judgment matters. The choices you make when no one is watching matter. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Now finish your bread before I decide to test whether you can survive without breakfast."

I ate.

Not because I was hungry, but because Aldric had a way of making even the simplest instruction sound like a royal decree.

When I finished, I collected my examination papers, tightened the straps of my leather satchel, and reached for the door.

"Adrian."

I turned.

Aldric stood beside the fireplace, his expression suddenly serious.

"Whatever happens inside that academy, do not allow anyone to convince you that you are nothing."

His words unsettled me.

I had expected another lecture about concentration or the importance of proper spell pronunciation. Instead, he looked at me as though he knew something about the day that I did not.

"What do you mean?"

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes.

Fear.

It was gone so quickly that I wondered whether I had imagined it.

"Nothing," he said. "Go. You will be late."

I left before I could ask another question.

The morning air was cold against my face, and the narrow streets of Blackthorn Village were already crowded with people preparing for the annual academy examinations.

Above the rooftops, the mountains of Eldoria rose like enormous sleeping giants. Their peaks disappeared into a thin veil of mist, and the oldest villagers claimed that dragons had once lived among those mountains.

I had never seen a dragon.

Few people had.

According to the history books, the great dragons had disappeared more than a century ago, leaving behind ruins, forgotten spells, and stories that frightened children into behaving themselves.

I had read every story I could find.

Dragons fascinated me because they seemed to possess something I had never known: a power so extraordinary that entire kingdoms had once depended on them.

Sometimes, when I was alone, I imagined that I might be descended from one of those ancient creatures.

It was a ridiculous thought.

I could not even light a candle without making a mess.

Still, I found myself looking towards the distant mountains as I walked.

For reasons I could not explain, I felt as though something was watching me from beyond the mist.

I shook my head and continued towards the academy.

Today was not a day for foolish imagination.

Today was the day I would finally discover whether I belonged in the world of magic.

The Eldoria Academy of Magic was more magnificent than any building I had ever seen.

Its towers rose above the surrounding city, their silver roofs shining beneath the morning sun. Enormous stone arches connected the main buildings, and blue crystals embedded in the walls glowed with a gentle light.

A river of enchanted water flowed through the academy gardens without a single drop spilling over its stone banks. Above the central courtyard, hundreds of tiny lights floated in the air, arranged in the shape of a great silver dragon.

Students and their families crowded the entrance.

Some children wore expensive robes embroidered with their family crests. Others carried polished staffs decorated with gemstones. A few arrived in carriages pulled by enormous white horses whose hooves never touched the ground.

I looked down at my own clothes.

My black trousers were clean, but the knees had been repaired twice. My dark coat belonged to Aldric, and its sleeves were slightly too long. The leather satchel hanging from my shoulder had a broken buckle that I had tied together with a piece of string.

I suddenly wished I had chosen a different coat.

"First time?" a boy beside me asked.

I turned towards him.

He was about my age, with neatly combed blond hair and a silver ring on every finger. His blue robes were decorated with a golden crest depicting a hawk.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked.

He looked at my satchel.

"The string gives it away."

I glanced at the buckle.

"Oh."

He smiled, but there was nothing particularly friendly about it.

"I'm Cassian Voss."

I had heard the name before. The Voss family was one of the oldest magical families in Eldoria, known for producing powerful sorcerers and academy instructors.

"Adrian Vale."

"Vale?" He frowned slightly. "I don't know that family."

"That's because there isn't much to know."

"Ah."

He said the word as though I had confirmed something unpleasant.

"Well, good luck, Vale. You'll need it."

Before I could respond, he walked away.

I watched him disappear into the crowd.

Perhaps Aldric was right. Perhaps I should not care what other people thought of me.

Unfortunately, that advice was considerably easier to follow when other people were not standing around looking at me as though I had wandered into the wrong building.

A deep bell rang from the highest tower.

The sound rolled across the courtyard, and conversations gradually faded.

A woman in long white robes appeared on the steps leading into the main examination hall. Her silver hair was braided down her back, and a crystal staff rested in her right hand.

"I am Headmistress Seraphina Wren," she announced. Her voice carried effortlessly across the courtyard. "Welcome to the Eldoria Academy of Magic."

The crowd became silent.

"Today, you will be tested in three areas: magical capacity, spell control, and elemental affinity. Remember that the examination measures your present abilities, not the limits of what you may one day achieve."

I felt a small measure of relief.

Present abilities.

That sounded reasonable.

Perhaps I did not need to perform an extraordinary spell. Perhaps I only needed to demonstrate a spark of magic.

A candle lighting itself.

A pebble rising into the air.

Even a tiny flicker of light would be enough.

I could do that.

I had to believe I could.

Headmistress Wren raised her staff, and the enormous doors behind her swung open.

"Candidates, enter."

The crowd surged forward.

I followed them into the examination hall.

The hall was enormous.

Its ceiling was painted with moving constellations, and the marble floor reflected the light of hundreds of floating candles. At the far end stood three raised platforms. Each contained a different magical instrument.

On the first platform rested a transparent blue crystal the size of a human head.

On the second stood a silver basin filled with water that glowed from within.

The third platform held a black stone surrounded by a circle of golden runes.

An examiner stood beside each instrument.

I recognised the blue crystal from my textbooks. It was called the Aether Crystal, and it measured the amount of magical energy a person could produce.

The brighter it glowed, the greater the person's magical capacity.

Simple enough.

I hoped.

The candidates were arranged into groups, and the examination began.

The first boy stepped towards the Aether Crystal and placed his hand against its surface.

A blue light spread through the crystal.

"Moderate magical capacity," the examiner announced.

The boy looked disappointed, but he stepped aside.

The next candidate produced a bright green glow that filled the crystal from top to bottom.

"High magical capacity. Strong affinity with earth."

Applause came from somewhere in the crowd.

One after another, the candidates demonstrated their abilities.

A girl summoned a miniature tornado that lifted several loose papers from the examiner's desk. A boy created a sphere of water and suspended it above his head. Another candidate made a handful of silver leaves grow from an ordinary wooden stick.

I watched everything with a mixture of wonder and envy.

These people made magic look effortless.

I could barely make a candle flicker.

When my group was called, my heartbeat became so loud that I could hardly hear the examiner speaking.

"Next candidate."

A tall girl stepped forward.

She placed her palm against the crystal, and a brilliant golden light burst from its centre.

The entire hall fell silent.

The examiner stared at the crystal.

"Exceptional magical capacity."

The girl smiled proudly and returned to her place.

Then the examiner looked down at his list.

"Adrian Vale."

My mouth went dry.

I stepped forward.

The crystal stood before me, beautiful and cold, its blue surface reflecting my nervous face.

I could feel hundreds of eyes following my movements.

Somewhere near the back of the hall, I imagined Cassian Voss watching, ready to laugh if I failed.

I lifted my right hand.

For one strange moment, the room seemed to grow quieter.

I could hear the faint ticking of the great clock above the entrance. I could hear someone breathing behind me. I could even hear the soft whisper of magic moving through the walls.

Then I placed my palm against the crystal.

Nothing happened.

I waited.

The examiner adjusted his spectacles.

"Concentrate, Mr Vale."

I closed my eyes.

I remembered every spell Aldric had taught me. I imagined the light gathering inside my chest, moving through my arm, and flowing into the crystal.

Come on, I thought.

Just once.

Please.

A strange warmth stirred beneath my palm.

I opened my eyes.

For a heartbeat, a tiny golden spark appeared deep inside the crystal.

My breath caught.

The spark grew brighter.

It became a thin golden line, twisting through the blue surface like a thread of sunlight beneath ice.

Then the crystal shuddered.

The examiner stepped back.

A murmur spread through the hall.

The golden line twisted again, forming a shape I could not understand. It looked like a circle crossed by three curved lines, with a small flame burning at its centre.

The same shape appeared on my palm.

I stared at it.

I had never seen that mark before.

Suddenly, the crystal went dark.

Not dim.

Dark.

Every trace of blue light vanished from its surface.

A sharp crack split the air.

The examiner seized my wrist and pulled my hand away.

The golden mark disappeared.

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then the crystal flashed white.

A burst of cold air swept across the platform, extinguishing the candles nearest to us.

Someone screamed.

The examiner hurriedly placed his hand against the crystal and muttered a stabilising spell. Blue light returned, but it was faint and uneven.

He stared at the instrument, then at me.

"That is impossible."

My throat tightened.

"What is?"

He did not answer.

Instead, he turned towards Headmistress Wren, who had risen from her chair.

Their eyes met.

Something passed between them.

Recognition, perhaps.

Or fear.

Headmistress Wren descended from the platform and approached me.

"Adrian Vale," she said quietly, "where did you learn that symbol?"

"What symbol?"

"The mark that appeared beneath your hand."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

It was the truth.

She studied my face for a long moment before looking at the examiner.

"Repeat the measurement."

The examiner hesitated.

"Headmistress, the crystal-"

"Repeat it."

I placed my hand against the crystal again.

This time, nothing happened.

No golden light.

No blue light.

Not even a spark.

The examiner waited several seconds before removing a small silver instrument from his pocket. He held it close to the crystal, muttered an incantation, and examined the result.

His expression hardened.

"Magical capacity: undetectable."

The words struck me harder than I expected.

Undetectable.

I had known that I was not particularly gifted. I had known that my spells often failed.

But some small part of me had believed that the magic was there, hidden somewhere beneath my failures, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Now a stranger in a white robe had reduced seventeen years of hope to two words.

Undetectable.

"Perhaps the instrument is damaged," I said.

My voice sounded weak.

The examiner looked offended.

"This instrument has served the academy for more than two hundred years."

"Then perhaps it needs a rest."

A few candidates laughed.

The examiner's face darkened.

"Silence."

Headmistress Wren raised one hand, and the hall fell quiet again.

"Adrian," she said, "please proceed to the second platform."

I obeyed because I could think of nothing else to do.

The silver basin was cold when I touched its edge. The examiner instructed me to place both hands above the water and summon a single drop into the air.

I whispered the required spell.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

The water remained still.

The third test required me to awaken the elemental runes on the black stone.

I spoke the incantation.

The runes did not glow.

The examiner waited, then lowered his clipboard.

"Insufficient magical response."

I stared at him.

"Can I try again?"

He hesitated.

"Mr Vale-"

"Please. Just once more."

Headmistress Wren watched me from the side of the platform.

After a moment, she nodded.

I stepped forward and placed both hands above the black stone.

I closed my eyes.

I thought about the golden spark inside the crystal.

I thought about the warmth that had spread through my palm.

I thought about Aldric standing in our kitchen that morning, telling me that I must never allow anyone to convince me that I was nothing.

I gathered every ounce of hope I had left.

"Awaken," I whispered.

For an instant, the hall trembled.

A faint golden glow appeared beneath my feet.

The examiner's clipboard slipped from his hand.

The golden light spread through the runes, illuminating the entire platform.

I felt something move inside me.

It was enormous.

Ancient.

And impossibly lonely.

Then a voice whispered inside my head.

At last.

I gasped.

The golden light vanished.

The stone returned to its ordinary black colour.

And I was left standing in the centre of the platform, shaking.

"What happened?" I asked.

No one answered.

The examiner retrieved his clipboard with trembling fingers.

Headmistress Wren approached me again, but this time she did not look like a teacher examining an unsuccessful candidate.

She looked like someone who had just discovered that a terrible old nightmare was real.

"Adrian," she said, "you may leave."

I stared at her.

"Does that mean I passed?"

Her expression softened, but there was no kindness in her answer.

"No."

The word echoed through me.

"You have not demonstrated the magical ability required for admission to the academy."

I looked towards the other candidates.

Some avoided my eyes.

Others watched me openly.

Cassian Voss stood near the entrance, wearing a smile that made me want to disappear.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Then I suppose that's it."

"I'm afraid so."

I wanted to argue.

I wanted to demand another test, another crystal, another chance.

But the words would not come.

I collected my satchel and walked towards the doors.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

Behind me, the examination continued as though nothing had happened. More children would demonstrate their magic. More names would be recorded. More futures would begin.

Mine, apparently, had ended before it had even started.

I reached the entrance and paused.

For a moment, I looked back at the Aether Crystal.

A tiny golden spark flickered beneath its blue surface.

Then it vanished.

I turned away.

I did not see Headmistress Wren hurry towards the crystal after I had left. I did not see her place both hands against its surface or whisper a forbidden name that had not been spoken within the academy for nearly a hundred years.

I did not see the fear on her face when the crystal answered her with a single word.

Guardian.

And I certainly did not know that, far beyond the academy walls, something ancient had awakened.

Something that had been waiting for me.

By the time I returned to Blackthorn Village, the golden morning had become a grey afternoon.

I walked slowly, keeping my eyes on the road.

The village looked exactly as it had that morning. Merchants argued over prices. Children chased one another through the square. A baker stood outside his shop, using magic to lift trays of fresh bread from the oven.

Everything was ordinary.

That was what hurt the most.

I had expected failure to change something. I thought the sky might darken, or the earth might open beneath my feet, or at least the universe might have the decency to acknowledge that my dreams had just been crushed.

Instead, the world continued.

A little boy ran past me, laughing as he made a wooden toy spin in the air.

His mother called after him.

"Careful, Daniel! You haven't learned to control that spell yet."

The boy waved his hand.

The toy flew higher.

I looked away.

When I reached our cottage, I found Aldric sitting beside the fireplace with a book open across his knees.

He looked up as I entered.

One glance at my face was enough.

"You failed."

I dropped my satchel beside the door.

"That is a remarkably gentle way of asking how my day went."

Aldric closed the book.

"Adrian."

"I failed the capacity test. I failed the elemental test. I failed the spell-control test. I failed everything."

I laughed, but the sound was bitter.

"At least I managed to be consistent."

Aldric said nothing.

I began pacing across the room.

"Do you know what the worst part was? Everyone looked at me as though I was some kind of mistake. Even the headmistress."

"What did she say?"

"That I couldn't be admitted."

"Nothing else?"

I stopped.

His question unsettled me.

"Why are you asking that?"

Aldric rose from his chair.

"Did anything unusual happen during the examination?"

I stared at him.

For a moment, I considered telling him everything. The golden light. The strange mark. The voice inside my head.

But I remembered the fear in Headmistress Wren's eyes, and I suddenly felt ashamed of how little I understood about my own experience.

"Nothing," I lied.

Aldric watched me.

He had known me for as long as I could remember. He knew when I was hungry, when I was frightened, and when I had broken something in the cottage and was desperately hoping he would not notice.

He knew when I was lying.

Yet he did not challenge me.

Instead, he returned to his chair and picked up his book.

"I see."

I hated how quietly he said it.

"That's all?"

He looked up.

"What would you like me to say?"

"I don't know. Something useful."

"Very well. You should change your coat before supper. You smell like a burnt candle."

I stared at him.

Then, despite everything, I laughed.

It was a small laugh, and it did not last long, but it eased something inside my chest.

Aldric smiled faintly.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

I went upstairs to my room and closed the door.

My room was small, with a narrow bed, a wooden desk, and a window overlooking the distant mountains. Books were piled along the walls, and the shelves above my desk held the few possessions I considered important: an old compass, a broken silver whistle, and a collection of dragon stories I had read so many times that the pages were beginning to fall apart.

I sat on the edge of my bed.

For seventeen years, I had believed that magic would give my life meaning.

Without it, I did not know who I was supposed to become.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling.

Perhaps I could become a merchant.

Or a blacksmith.

Or one of those travelling storytellers who wandered between villages, telling exaggerated tales about heroes they had never met.

I could spend my life pretending that I had never wanted anything more.

It was a miserable thought.

I turned towards the window.

The mountains stood beneath the darkening sky, their peaks hidden behind thick clouds.

Something about them drew my attention.

I could not explain it, but I felt an ache in my chest whenever I looked towards them, as though some distant part of me recognised a place I had never visited.

I reached for one of my dragon books.

The cover showed a magnificent black dragon with silver horns and enormous wings. Its golden eyes shone above a burning kingdom.

According to the story, the dragon had guarded an ancient source of magic known as the First Flame.

The book claimed that the First Flame had created the first magical creatures and given power to the earliest kingdoms. It was said to be older than the academy, older than the royal family, and older than the oldest spells.

Some scholars believed it was merely a legend.

Others believed that whoever controlled the First Flame could reshape the entire world.

I had always loved that story.

Tonight, however, I could not bring myself to read it.

I closed the book and placed it beside me.

Then I noticed something strange.

My right hand was glowing.

I sat upright.

A faint golden light pulsed beneath the skin of my palm.

"No," I whispered.

The light brightened.

A symbol appeared.

A circle.

Three curved lines.

And a small flame at the centre.

The same symbol I had seen inside the Aether Crystal.

I stumbled backwards, knocking a stack of books from my desk.

The golden mark burned for several seconds before fading into my skin.

I stared at my palm.

There was no wound. No scar. No sign that anything unusual had happened.

Yet I could still feel the warmth beneath my skin.

A knock sounded at my door.

I nearly jumped out of my clothes.

"Adrian?" Aldric called. "Are you all right?"

I looked at my hand.

The mark was gone.

"Yes!" I called back. "I'm fine."

"Then why did I hear what sounded like an entire library collapsing?"

"Because my books are badly organised."

There was a pause.

"Try not to destroy the rest of the house before supper."

His footsteps retreated down the stairs.

I waited until I was certain he had gone before examining my palm again.

Nothing.

I flexed my fingers.

Everything seemed normal.

Perhaps I was exhausted. Perhaps the examination had frightened me more than I realised. Perhaps my imagination was simply desperate to turn an ordinary failure into something extraordinary.

I wanted to believe that.

But I could not forget the voice I had heard inside the examination hall.

At last.

Who had spoken?

And why had it sounded as though it had been waiting for me?

That evening, I could barely eat.

Aldric tried to distract me with stories about the time he had accidentally turned a royal messenger into a goat, but I found myself staring towards the window every few minutes.

The sky had darkened, and a cold wind was moving through the trees.

Aldric noticed my distraction.

"You are unusually quiet."

"I'm thinking."

"That is usually when the trouble begins."

I ignored him.

"Do you believe in dragons?"

The question escaped my mouth before I could stop it.

Aldric's spoon froze halfway to his mouth.

It was such a small movement that I might have missed it if I had not been watching him.

"What brought that on?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering."

He lowered his spoon.

"Dragons are not something to wonder about casually."

"Why not?"

"Because people who spend too much time searching for them sometimes discover things they would have been happier leaving alone."

I frowned.

"That sounds like something from one of my books."

"Then perhaps your books are wiser than you realise."

I leaned forward.

"But do you believe they existed?"

Aldric studied me for a long moment.

"I believe that the world is older than our knowledge of it. I believe that history has forgotten things it should have remembered. And I believe that some legends survive because they contain more truth than people are comfortable accepting."

I waited for him to say more.

He did not.

"That is not an answer," I complained.

"It is the only one you are getting tonight."

He returned to his meal.

I wanted to press him, but something in his expression warned me against it.

So I ate the rest of my supper in silence.

Later, when the cottage had grown quiet, I went to bed.

I left the curtains open because I wanted to watch the stars.

The wind had died down, and the forest beyond the village lay beneath a pale silver moon. The trees swayed gently, their branches appearing like dark fingers against the night sky.

I was almost asleep when I heard it.

A low sound rolled across the mountains.

At first, I thought it was thunder.

Then the sound came again.

It was deeper than thunder, rougher, and so powerful that the glass in my window trembled.

I sat up.

The sound rose into a roar.

I had never heard anything like it.

Every hair on my arms stood on end.

Somewhere outside, a dog began barking. Another answered, and soon the entire village seemed to have awakened.

I hurried to the window.

A shadow moved across the distant mountains.

It was enormous.

For one impossible moment, I thought I saw wings spreading against the moonlight.

Then the clouds shifted, and the shadow disappeared.

My heart pounded.

"That cannot be real," I whispered.

But the trembling glass told me otherwise.

I rushed downstairs.

Aldric stood in the middle of the sitting room, fully dressed, holding a long wooden staff I had never seen him use before.

His face was pale.

"What was that?" I asked.

He turned towards me.

For the first time in my life, I saw genuine fear in the eyes of the man who had raised me.

"Go back to your room," he said.

"What?"

"Now, Adrian."

"I'm not a child!"

"Tonight, you will do as I say."

His voice cracked like a whip.

I stopped.

Aldric had never spoken to me like that before.

He moved towards the window and pulled the curtains shut. Then he crossed the room and began muttering words in a language I did not recognise.

A faint silver light spread across the door.

I stared at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Protecting this house."

"From what?"

He did not answer.

I stepped closer.

"Professor Aldric, what is happening?"

He looked at me.

For several seconds, he seemed to be struggling with a decision.

Then he reached out and gripped my shoulders.

"Listen to me very carefully. If you hear that sound again, you must not leave this cottage. Do you understand?"

"But-"

"Promise me."

I swallowed.

"I promise."

He released me.

Yet even as I climbed the stairs, I knew I had not told him the truth.

Because beneath my fear, beneath my confusion, beneath the humiliation of my failure at the academy, another feeling had begun to grow.

Curiosity.

Whatever had roared in the mountains had awakened something inside me.

Something that had remained silent for seventeen years.

And I had a terrible feeling that it knew my name.

I did not sleep.

I lay beneath my blankets, listening to the wind and watching the shadows move across my ceiling.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the golden symbol.

Every time I began to drift off, I heard the voice.

At last.

Near midnight, I finally sat up and reached for my coat.

I told myself that I only wanted some fresh air.

I told myself that the roar had probably come from a distant rockslide or a storm moving through the mountains.

I told myself many things.

None of them explained why my palm had begun to glow again.

The golden mark appeared beneath my skin, brighter than before.

I stared at it in disbelief.

Then I heard a whisper.

Not from the examination hall.

Not from the room.

From outside.

"Adrian."

I froze.

The voice was low and distant, carried through the darkness from somewhere beyond the village.

"Adrian Vale."

My mouth went dry.

I rushed to the window and pulled the curtain aside.

The forest stood beneath the moon, its trees motionless.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

No answer came.

Then the voice spoke again.

"Come to the Whispering Forest."

A cold shiver travelled down my spine.

Every sensible thought told me to close the curtains, return to bed, and tell Aldric what I had heard.

But the golden mark on my palm pulsed in response to the voice.

I felt it in my bones.

Whatever was calling me had something to do with the symbol.

And somehow, I knew that if I ignored it tonight, I might never discover the truth about what had happened to me.

I opened my bedroom door.

The cottage was silent.

Aldric's room lay at the end of the corridor. A thin line of light shone beneath his door, and I could hear the faint sound of pages turning.

He was awake.

I should have told him.

Instead, I crept downstairs, slipped through the back door, and stepped into the cold night.

The village was asleep.

I moved between the houses, keeping to the shadows until I reached the narrow path leading towards the Whispering Forest.

The forest had been forbidden to children for as long as I could remember. Villagers claimed that strange lights appeared between the trees and that travellers sometimes heard familiar voices calling them away from the road.

I had always dismissed those stories as nonsense.

Standing at its entrance, I found that I was no longer so certain.

The trees rose high above me, their twisted branches blocking most of the moonlight. A thin mist curled around their roots, and the air smelled of wet earth and something metallic.

I hesitated.

My hand began to glow.

"Adrian," the voice whispered.

It came from deep within the forest.

I took one step forward.

Then another.

The trees closed around me as I followed the narrow path. Branches scratched my coat, and the ground grew increasingly uneven beneath my boots.

Several times, I thought I saw something moving between the trees.

Each time I turned, there was nothing there.

I continued walking.

I do not know how long I followed the voice. The forest seemed larger than it had ever looked from the village, and the path twisted in directions I could not remember taking.

At last, the trees opened into a vast clearing.

I stopped at the edge.

Something enormous lay in the centre of the clearing, partially hidden by the mist.

At first, I thought it was a fallen mountain.

Then it moved.

A tremendous wing unfolded from its side, scattering leaves and sending a powerful gust of wind across the clearing.

I stumbled backwards.

Two enormous golden eyes opened in the darkness.

They fixed on me.

I could not breathe.

The creature slowly raised its head, revealing silver horns, a long scaled neck, and a mouth filled with teeth larger than my fingers. Its black scales shimmered with silver along the edges, reflecting the moonlight like polished armour.

A dragon.

An actual dragon.

Every story I had ever read suddenly seemed painfully inadequate.

The creature was far more magnificent than the illustrations in my books. It was also far more terrifying.

I wanted to run.

My legs refused to move.

The dragon lowered its head until one enormous golden eye was level with me.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then a deep voice filled my mind.

"So," it said, "the son of Elara Vale has finally come."

My blood turned cold.

I had never told anyone in the forest my mother's name.

I had barely spoken of her at all.

"How do you know my mother?" I managed to ask.

The dragon's golden eyes narrowed.

"Because I knew her before you were born. I knew your father, too. And I have waited a very long time for the day when you would find your way to me."

I shook my head.

"No. This isn't possible."

"Many things are impossible until the moment they happen."

The dragon lifted its head.

The movement revealed deep scars running along its neck and shoulders. Dark metal chains circled its enormous body, disappearing into the ground at several points. Strange violet symbols glowed along the links.

The sight made my stomach tighten.

Someone had chained a dragon.

Someone had been powerful enough to imprison a creature that looked capable of tearing down a castle.

"Who did this to you?" I whispered.

The dragon's expression changed.

For the first time, I saw something beneath its terrible majesty.

Pain.

"Malric Veyne," it answered. "The man who wishes to possess the heart of all magic."

The name meant nothing to me.

Yet the moment the dragon spoke it, the golden mark on my palm flared with such intensity that I cried out.

The dragon looked sharply at my hand.

The clearing filled with a low, vibrating sound.

Not a roar.

Something closer to a gasp.

"Impossible," the dragon murmured.

I clutched my palm against my chest.

"What is happening to me?"

The dragon lowered its head once more.

"My name is Vaelthor," it said. "I am one of the last ancient guardians of Eldoria. And the mark you carry is the mark of the bloodline that was believed to have vanished from this world."

I stared at him.

"Bloodline?"

"Your parents were not ordinary people, Adrian. They were guardians of an ancient power that Malric has hunted for generations."

I shook my head.

"My parents died when I was a baby."

"That is what you were told."

The words struck me with the force of a physical blow.

"What do you mean?"

Vaelthor's chains rattled as he shifted his enormous body.

"I mean that there are truths hidden from you, truths that have shaped every moment of your life. Your failure at the academy was not the end of your story. It was the beginning of something far older than the kingdom itself."

I wanted to believe him.

I also wanted to wake up in my bed and discover that the entire night had been a dream.

"Why me?" I whispered. "I can't even perform the simplest spell."

Vaelthor looked at my glowing palm.

"Because your father hid your power, not because you had none."

I stopped breathing.

Somewhere beyond the clearing, a branch snapped.

Vaelthor's head turned towards the sound.

The golden light in his eyes sharpened.

"We have very little time," he said.

I looked towards the trees.

"Who is there?"

Vaelthor's chains began to tremble.

"Someone who has been searching for you."

The golden mark on my palm blazed.

A voice rose from the darkness beyond the clearing.

"At last," it said. "I have found the boy."

Vaelthor spread his enormous wings.

The forest shook.

And for the first time in my life, I understood that the world I thought I knew had been hiding a terrible secret.

A secret written in ancient magic.

A secret connected to my parents.

And a secret that had just found me.