The Forest near the Ibex Kingdom

The forest had become both a prison and a sanctuary, its dense canopy casting an eternal shadow over Keith’s life. In the beginning, the woods had been a place of refuge—a means to escape the destruction that had claimed his home, his family, and his innocence. But over time, it had morphed into something more—a living, breathing entity that challenged him at every turn. Each tree, each blade of grass, each winding path seemed to whisper of both survival and death, as if the forest itself judged his every step, deciding in silent deliberation whether he deserved to live another day.

The woods were unforgiving, a maze of towering trees, thick underbrush, and hidden threats lurking in every shadow. He had learned to navigate the treacherous paths of the forest with the adeptness of a seasoned hunter. Two years of living here had sharpened his senses—his once soft, childish features now hardened, his body leaner, stronger, and his eyes holding the weight of loss and determination.

Keith had long since abandoned any notion of civilization. As he had quickly realized he couldn’t go close to any kingdom or settlement, with the dragon egg with him. He would not only loose the egg, he’d also probably be tortured for answers on how he acquired it—or worse killed. So he decided to live in the forest for now and see where things go from there.

The clothes he had once worn, stitched with care by his mother’s hands, had been reduced to little more than tattered rags. His trousers clung to him, shredded by countless encounters with thorns, jagged rocks, and the teeth of creatures far more fearsome than any he had ever imagined in the safety of his childhood home. His upper body, exposed to the elements, bore the marks of his time in the wild—scars from claw and fang, bruises from falls and fights, the sun’s relentless burn leaving his once pale skin tanned and rough. He no longer recognized himself. The boy he had been was gone, replaced by a young man who had been forged in the crucible of survival. Around his neck, two relics hung close to his heart: his mother’s necklace, shimmering faintly in the dim evening light, a glass blue star that still carried her warmth, it was a symbol of the person who had given him everything and the dragon’s fang—secured by a makeshift vine rope—rested against his chest, a symbol of the deadly creature that had taken everything from him, yet had also given him a strange new path.

His hair, now long and matted, fell in tangled waves around his face and shoulders, streaked with dirt, sweat, and the grime of living off the land. It was a far cry from the neat, combed locks he had once taken pride in as a boy. Now, it was just another part of him that had become wild, untamed, like the forest itself. His face, too, had changed. Where once there had been softness, the roundness of youth, now there was sharpness—his jawline more pronounced, his cheekbones standing out against skin pulled tight from hunger and exhaustion. His eyes, though, had undergone the greatest transformation. They no longer held the wide-eyed wonder of a boy who loved running down streets and alleyways. Instead, they were dark, hardened by the things he had seen, the things he had done. His mother’s death, the destruction of his kingdom, the fire that had scorched not just the land but his very soul—these things had left a permanent mark, an unshakable weight that now lived in his gaze.

Keith was no longer afraid of the forest as he had been during the first few months. He had become a part of the forest in these two years, and it had become a part of him. He knew every tree, every trail, every hidden danger lurking in the shadows. The sounds of the forest—the rustling of leaves, the calls of distant animals, the occasional snapping of twigs—no longer frightened him and sent him into a panic as they once had. He had learned to decipher the language of the woods, to understand what each sound meant. The screech of a bird could indicate the presence of prey, or the warning of a predator. The snap of a branch in the distance might signal the approach of a deer, or something far more deadly. Keith had become attuned to these signals, his senses sharpened by necessity, by the primal instinct to survive.

His footsteps were careful, deliberate, as he made his way through the underbrush. The once aimless wanderings of a boy lost in the wilderness had given way to the confident stride of someone who had mastered his environment. He knew which paths were safe, which ones led to danger. He knew where the predators lurked, where they hunted, and how to avoid them. The forest, in its vastness, held many secrets—both beautiful and terrifying. And Keith had uncovered some of them, through trial, through error, and most times through blood.

Ahead, the mouth of a cave appeared, nestled between two towering oak trees, their roots tangling and twisting into the earth like the gnarled fingers of an ancient giant.This cave had become his home—a place of refuge when the nights grew too cold, too dark, or too dangerous. It was more than just shelter; it was a stronghold. Keith had fought for this space, wresting it from creatures that had once claimed it as their own. The scars on his arms and stomach, told the story of those battles. His mind wandered back to the day he had fought a wild boar that had claimed the cave for itself.

As he entered the cave, the familiar scent of damp earth and stone greeted him. It was a smell that no longer repulsed him, as it once had. Instead, it comforted him. This place, crude and inhospitable as it was, had become his sanctuary. He lit a small torch, his movements practiced. He moved toward the back, where a small pile of dried leaves and animal furs served as his bed and a few essential tools he had fashioned from stone and wood. But it was the object hidden beneath a tangle of branches and moss that drew his attention. Carefully, almost reverently, Keith knelt and pulled away the covering, revealing the dragon egg.

It had been two years since he had been given the egg in the aftermath of the attack, since he had taken it into his care. It was the only thing that connected him to the past, to the life he had lost. As he held his mother’s necklace, a constant reminder of her sacrifice, but it was the egg that held his future. Or so he had convinced himself after repeating it endlessly.

The egg was large, almost the size of his torso, its surface smooth and cool to the touch, yet pulsing with a warmth that seemed to come from deep within. Its color was strange—an iridescent mix of dark greens and blacks. Keith had spent countless nights staring at it, wondering when—if—it would hatch. He had dreamed of the moment, had imagined what it would be like to see the creature inside break free, to witness the birth of something so powerful, so magical.

But the waiting had taken its toll. Two years had passed, and still the egg remained unbroken, its secrets locked away. There had been moments when Keith had doubted—when the loneliness and the weight of his grief had made him question whether the egg would ever hatch, whether the creature inside was even still alive, and why he was even still keeping it with him and not destroying it. But every time it was in danger his body would move before he could think and he had nearly lost it more times than he could count—once to a troop of mischievous monkeys who had stolen it away, climbing high into the trees to play with it like some shiny bauble. Keith had chased them for hours, heart in his throat, fear clawing at his insides. It was only by tricking the younger ones into dropping the egg that he had managed to retrieve it, his hands shaking with relief.

There had been other threats, too—frightening moments—when he left it too close to the edge of the clearing, before going to hunt and a large snake had almost swallowed it whole. He had acted fast then, stabbing the snake with a sharpened stick as it was distracted by the egg.

But the most terrifying encounter had been the giant spider. A year ago, after a long day of hunting, he had returned to the cave only to find a massive, hairy-legged spider more than twice his size, dragging the egg toward a dark corner. The sight made his blood freeze. The creature was enormous, its many eyes gleaming in the dim light of his torch, its mandibles clicking as it hauled the egg away.

Keith had lunged without thinking, the hunter’s knife he had recently found then, gripped tightly in his hand. He barely dodged its mandibles and stabbed it in the eye, eliciting a high-pitched screech. The spider thrashed wildly, knocking him back. Desperate, Keith grabbed the short sword he had scavenged from a Wanderer’s corpse. With one final strike, when he saw an opportunity he drove the blade deep into the spider’s mouth, killing it instantly. He had eaten the spider’s meat for days after, but the memory of how close he had come to losing the egg haunted him. He had learned quickly that in the forest, everything was a threat, and nothing could be trusted. Each time, he fought back, risking his life to protect the egg.

Keith picked it up now, the familiar warmth spreading through his hands. Even after two years, the warmth it exuded was comforting. At times, it had seemed like his only connection to the world beyond this forest, the only comfort in a world that had turned cold and cruel. At night, he slept with it clutched tightly to his chest, not only for the warmth it provided on cold nights especially during winter, but also because it was the only thing that kept his nightmares at bay. Every night, since that fateful day when he lost everything, his dreams were filled with fire and death—the memory of his mother’s death came to haunt him, he dreamed of her face as she lay there in the wreckage of what was once his home with the flames drawing ever closer. And the memory of his uncle’s body charred beyond recognition. He’d lost count of the amount of times he has woken up in the middle of the night screaming and shouting—sometimes even calling out for his mother. It was bad—and that was an understatement. Holding the egg was his only reprieve—the only source of warmth and comfort, and though the nightmares still came, they didn’t grip him with the same intensity when the egg was near.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Tonight, however, he didn’t retreat into his cave. Instead, he sat outside, under the soft glow of a full moon. The sky was clear, stars twinkling like diamonds, and the moon hung high and bright, bathed the forest in silver, the shadows long and deep.

Keith cradled the egg in his arms, gazing up at the night sky, his thoughts drifting back to his past, for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to remember the nights he and Carl had spent lying in the grass. Theyused to lie under the stars and marvel at them together, and dream about the world beyond their borders, dreamsof far-off kingdoms and adventures, their imaginations running wild. They were so innocent back then, so full of hope believing anything was possible, when dragons had been just stories. Now, that hope felt like a distant memory, something fragile and easily broken. He wasn’t sure if Carl had survived. But if he had, Keith hoped he was safe—somewhere far from all this.

His hand tightened around the egg he whispered softly to the it, his voice barely audible over the soft rustling of the leaves.

“When are you going to hatch?”

His fingers traced the smooth surface of the egg, his brow furrowing in frustration. “It’s been two years… I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Please don’t die… please don’t leave me all alone.” he asked, his voice hoarse with the weight of years of waiting, of hoping.

The boy who had once been carefree was gone, replaced by someone older, someone harder. The egg had been the last fragile thread tying him to the hope that there was something worth fighting for in the world. Without it, Keith knew the darkness he had been trying to keep at bay would claim him completely.

And then, it happened.

As if in response to his plea, the egg began to tremble. It was a subtle movement at first—barely noticeable—but then it grew stronger, more violent, until Keith was forced to stand, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared down at the egg in disbelief, his mind racing. This had happened before, the occasional shake or tremor, but never like this. This was different. This was real.

Crack.

A loud crack echoed through the clearing, and Keith’s breath hitched as he watched a fissure form along the surface of the egg. Time seemed to slow as he took a step back, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. The crack widened, and with a sudden, sharp break, the top of the egg split open.

Keith froze, his eyes wide, as a small, scaly head pushed through the opening. Its horns were short, its snout narrow, and its dark, glistening scales shimmered under the moonlight. Piece by piece, the egg fell away, revealing more of the creature—its long, slender neck, its powerful wing—wide and powerful even in their infancy, and the muscular legs that would one day allow it to take to the skies.

The hatchling stretched, letting out a raw, primal roar into the night, as if announcing its arrival to the world. The forest around them fell into a heavy silence, as though the very trees and creatures were bowing to something extraordinary. Even the wind seemed to still, the trees holding their breath in reverence to the presence of this newborn dragon.

Keith could only stare, his heart racing, his mind unable to fully grasp what was happening. Joy warred with fear; hope battled despair. This was it—he had waited and longed for this moment, and now that it had come, he found himself overwhelmed. The birth of a dragon happening before his very eyes, he couldn’t believe it.

The hatchling shook its head, dislodging bits of shell that clung to its scales. And as if just noticing his presence it turned to Keith, its eyes glowing like molten gold, lockedonto him with a sharp, predatory intelligence that took his breath away, its golden eyes studying him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. It was as if the dragon was trying to comprehend the world around it, just as he had tried to comprehend his new reality these past two years. He felt a sudden, intense wave of fear. The look in its eyes was the same he had seen in the dragon that attacked his kingdom—ferocious, predatory, deadly.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then the dragon’s gaze shifted to the fang hanging from Keith’s neck. It paused, its once hostile demeanor softening, and then it approached him slowly, cautiously. It was about one to two feet long—about the size of a cat or a small dog.

Keith remained frozen, his breath shallow, as the dragon circled around his legs, sniffing him as if confirming something. Then without warning, the dragon climbed up his body, with an almost cat-like grace, it settled on his shoulder, coiling around his neck before nuzzling its head against his cheek, cooing, it was calm now, as if recognizing him. Keith let out a shaky breath, his heart beginning to calm as the dragon’s weight pressed against him and he felt the warmth of her scales. He didn’t know how, but he knew—this dragon was female. He could feel it.

Keith gently lifted her in his arms, her dark scales glimmering in the moonlight, he stared into her golden eyes with awe. Then as if overcome by something he whispered.

“Nyxara.”

He didn’t know why that word came to him, it was a word his mother had spoken to him when reading a story on the history of Tholsia, to him one night, and after asking her what it meant she told him it meant.

‘Darkness, beautiful under the moonlight.’

It was an old word from an old tongue. The language of the Sylvians from the ‘Great Sylvan Forest.’ The first civilization to create a kingdom.

Keith smiled fondly as he remembered those warm nights, he remembered wishing the nights never ended and he could stay with his mum forever in that moment.

As he stared into her eyes and instinctively pressed his forehead against hers, the same way he had with her mother. The bond between them felt immediate, unspoken, but undeniable.

A flood of emotions washed over him—grief, hope, fear, and the beginning of something new.

For the first time in two years, Keith felt something shift inside him, something he thought he had lost forever—a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about living, with the promise of a future. The pain that had gripped his heart ever since the day of theattack, began to ease, if only just a little. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had her now. With her by his side, he might be able to live again just like his mother wanted. Maybe he could start moving forward step by step.

Together, they sat under the moon, staring up at the stars. This was the beginning of an unlikely relationship between a boy and a dragon—one born out of tragedy, but destined for something far greater.