Rowen lay sprawled on the rocky bank, her chest heaving as she dragged in breath after ragged breath. The freezing water clung to her like a second skin, and every muscle in her body ached from the struggle against the current. She rolled onto her side, coughing violently as she tried to push herself upright.

Illinca sat a few feet away, her white fur plastered to her body and streaked with grime. She shivered uncontrollably, her breath coming in short gasps as she ran her hands over her legs and arms, checking for injuries.

“Well,” Rowen croaked, her voice rough, “that was... fun.”

Illinca shot her a look, a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “If by fun you mean nearly drowning, losing all our supplies, and being stuck who-knows-how-deep underground, then yes, it was delightful.”

Rowen huffed a weak laugh, though it quickly dissolved into a groan as she forced herself into a sitting position. Her belt pouch was still strapped to her side, miraculously intact. She fumbled with it, pulling it open to check the contents: Gallen’s unfinished blade, her well stone, and the small silver coin from Illinca’s luck ritual. It wasn’t much—hardly enough to make their situation less dire—but it was something.

“Illinca,” she rasped, “your pack?”

“Gone,” Illinca said flatly, staring at the water as if willing the current to give it back. “Everything’s gone.”

Rowen bit back a curse and looked around. The dim cavern stretched in all directions, the faint sound of the river echoing endlessly. The oppressive darkness seemed to swallow everything beyond a few feet.

“We can’t stay here,” Rowen said after a long silence. “If the river keeps going, maybe it’ll lead to an exit.”

Illinca didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the rushing water. After a moment, she nodded, though her shoulders sagged with weariness. “It’s the only choice we have.”

They stood slowly, every movement weighted by exhaustion. Rowen’s boots squelched as she stepped cautiously along the bank, her hands brushing against the slick rock wall for balance. Illinca followed close behind, her ears twitching at every echo and drip.

The darkness was absolute, their footsteps hesitant and slow. Every now and then, Rowen’s hand would catch on a jagged edge, or her foot would slip on a loose stone, sending her heart racing.

“Do you think the river leads anywhere?” Rowen asked, breaking the silence.

“It has to,” Illinca said, her tone as hollow as the cavern around them. “But if it doesn’t, we’ll never know.”

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours as they stumbled forward, the sound of water their only guide. The weight of their situation pressed down on Rowen like the stone ceiling above them. Every step felt more hopeless than the last.

Then, a flicker.

Rowen froze mid-step, her hand shooting out to grab Illinca’s arm. “Wait.”

Illinca tensed, her eyes scanning the darkness. “What?”

Rowen squinted into the void ahead, her breath catching in her throat. “There. Do you see it? A light.”

Illinca tilted her head, her green eyes narrowing. After a moment, she nodded. “It’s faint, but… I see it.”

Cautiously, they moved toward the glow, their steps quickening as it grew brighter. Embedded in the cave wall was a cluster of quartz-like crystals, their surfaces shimmering with a faint bluish light. The glow was weak but steady, casting long shadows on the rocky floor.

Rowen stepped closer, her eyes wide. “What are these?”

“Quartz,” Illinca said, running her fingers just above the surface of the crystals. “Or something like it. But I’ve never seen quartz that glows.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Rowen asked.

Illinca shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Does it matter? We need light.”

Rowen nodded and gripped one of the smaller crystals, her fingers wrapping around its jagged edges. With a sharp tug, she wrenched it free. The light pulsed faintly in her hand, dim but enough to see by.

“Not much,” she muttered, holding it up, “but it’s better than nothing.”

Illinca nodded, her smile fading as the reality of their situation crept back in. “Better than walking blind.”

They shared a brief, weary look before turning back to the darkness ahead. The faint light from the crystal illuminated their immediate path, enough to guide their steps but not enough to banish the shadows that loomed just beyond. Rowen tightened her grip on the glowing shard, her jaw set. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

The faint glow of the crystal cast dancing shadows on the walls, giving the cavern an eerie, otherworldly feel. The river gurgled quietly beside them, its sound both a guide and a warning. The ground was uneven, slippery with moisture, and every step felt like a test of balance.

Rowen held the crystal in one hand, the dim light barely illuminating a few feet ahead. “Careful,” she warned as she stepped over a jagged rock, her voice echoing faintly. “The ground’s getting worse.”

“No kidding,” Illinca muttered from behind her, her voice tight with strain. She planted her hand on the wall to steady herself, her claws scraping against the wet stone. “How are you holding up?”

“Better than I should be,” Rowen admitted. “But if I slip into that river again, you’d better pull me out. I’m not ready for a repeat performance.”

Illinca’s faint chuckle was cut short as her foot slipped on a loose stone. She yelped, catching herself against the wall just in time to avoid tumbling forward. “Almost spoke too soon.”

Rowen reached out to steady her, her hand briefly brushing Illinca’s arm. “You all right?”

Illinca nodded, though her green eyes were narrowed with frustration. “Fine. Just… watch your step.”

The terrain grew worse as they pressed forward. The path narrowed, forcing them to walk single file along a slick ledge that sloped dangerously toward the river. Rowen’s boots slid against the wet rock more than once, her heart racing each time. The air grew colder, the dampness seeping into their clothes and biting at their skin.

“Hold up,” Rowen said suddenly, raising her hand to signal Illinca. She crouched low, holding the crystal out toward the ground ahead. The light revealed a wide fissure cutting across the path, its jagged edges disappearing into darkness. Water trickled down into it from the ledge, the faint sound of droplets falling into nothingness below.

“Think we can jump it?” Rowen asked, glancing back at Illinca.

Illinca stepped closer, her lips pressed into a thin line as she examined the gap. “Maybe. But if we miss…”

Rowen nodded grimly, her tail swishing in irritation. “I’ll go first.” She adjusted her footing, taking a step back to prepare. The crystal’s glow flickered faintly in her hand, casting eerie shadows on the fissure below. With a deep breath, she launched herself forward, her boots scraping against the far edge as she landed hard on the other side.

“Made it,” she called, her voice slightly shaky. She turned, holding the crystal up to light Illinca’s path. “Your turn.”

Illinca hesitated, her ears twitching. “Don’t lose that crystal,” she muttered before taking a running start. She leapt, her arms outstretched, and landed with a stumble beside Rowen. Rowen grabbed her arm to steady her, the two of them pausing for a moment to catch their breath.

The path widened again, but the ground was littered with loose rocks that shifted treacherously beneath their feet. Illinca cursed under her breath as one rolled beneath her heel, nearly sending her sprawling.

“This place is a nightmare,” she said through gritted teeth, her tail flicking irritably behind her.

“Not exactly the vacation I’d planned,” Rowen replied dryly, though her humor was undercut by the tension in her voice.

They pressed on, their steps slow and deliberate. The silence was broken only by the occasional drip of water and the faint echoes of their movements. Rowen’s nerves prickled as the shadows seemed to stretch and move at the edges of the crystal’s glow.

Then came the sound—faint, barely more than a whisper, but unmistakable. A low scraping, as if something heavy was being dragged across stone.

Rowen froze, her head snapping toward the noise. “Did you hear that?”

Illinca’s ears flicked, her body going rigid. “What?”

“Something… moving.” Rowen turned slowly, holding the crystal higher to cast its faint light into the darkness. Nothing. Just the empty cavern stretching into shadow. “It came from back there.”

Illinca exhaled slowly, her sharp gaze scanning the gloom. “It’s probably just the river echoing. Or loose rocks.”

“Yeah,” Rowen said, though the hairs along her neck prickled. “Probably.”

They continued in silence, the tension thick between them. Every sound—every drip, every faint rustle—felt like a threat. By the time they reached a slightly wider chamber, the weight of exhaustion was pressing hard on their shoulders.

“We should rest,” Illinca said, her voice low but firm. “Just for a little while.”

Rowen hesitated, glancing around at the dark, cavernous space. “I don’t like stopping here.”

“Do you see a better option?” Illinca asked, her tone sharp with weariness. “We need to sleep, Rowen. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Rowen sighed, conceding the point. She lowered the crystal, placing it on a nearby rock to let its faint glow illuminate their immediate surroundings. Illinca slumped against the wall, her ears drooping as she closed her eyes. Rowen sat nearby, her gaze fixed on the shadows beyond the light’s reach.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep wouldn’t come. The scraping sound lingered in her mind, a phantom echo she couldn’t shake.

The journey through the endless dark was beginning to feel like a fever dream. Rowen wasn’t sure how long it had been since they first stumbled into the cave—hours, days, maybe even longer. The passage of time meant nothing here, swallowed by the black void and the monotonous sound of dripping water and the gurgling river.

Her legs felt leaden, every step an effort of will. The glowing crystal in her hand was a faint guide, its dim light barely illuminating the slick, uneven ground ahead. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt warm, or dry, or even remotely comfortable. The damp air clung to her skin, chilling her even when she wasn’t actively shivering.

Rowen’s thoughts wandered as her body moved almost mechanically, her boots scuffing against the rock. She thought of Borollai—the bustling village square, the warmth of the sun on her scales, the smell of roasted nuts during the festival. She clung to the memories like a lifeline, but even those were starting to feel unreal, like stories someone else had told her.

Her stomach growled loudly, the sound echoing faintly in the cavern. She winced, pressing a hand to her abdomen as though that could silence it. The ache was sharper now, a gnawing void that wouldn’t let her forget how empty she was.

“Just keep moving,” she muttered to herself under her breath. Her voice sounded foreign in the quiet, rough and raw from disuse.

Behind her, Illinca trudged in silence, her usual steady gait reduced to a slow, uneven shuffle. Rowen could hear her shallow breaths, could feel the weight of her exhaustion like a physical presence. She didn’t turn to look; she couldn’t bear to see the weariness etched into her friend’s face. It was enough to feel her own.

Her tail dragged along the ground, bumping against stones and leaving a faint trail in the dirt. Rowen focused on the rhythm of her steps, using it as an anchor to keep her thoughts from spiraling. Left, right. Left, right. Don’t fall. Don’t stop.

The crystal flickered briefly, and Rowen froze, holding it up with trembling fingers. The thought of losing their only light sent a jolt of fear through her, sharp and bitter. She tightened her grip, as though holding it more firmly would somehow keep the light alive.

“Rowen,” Illinca’s voice came, soft and hoarse, from behind her. “We need to stop.”

Rowen hesitated, her muscles screaming at her to agree. But her mind rebelled. Stopping meant admitting how bad it had gotten. Stopping meant sitting still in the cold and dark, with only the gnawing hunger to keep her company.

“We can’t,” she said finally, her voice low and flat. “If we stop now, we might not start again.”

Illinca didn’t argue, but Rowen could feel the weight of her stare, could imagine the exhaustion in her green eyes. She forced herself forward, her boots dragging against the stone, her breath coming in shallow pants.

Her thoughts circled back to Gallen. Would he have been proud of her, seeing her push forward like this? Or would he have scolded her for letting herself get into this mess in the first place? She imagined his stern voice in her head: Keep your head up, girl. No one’s going to save you but yourself.

The thought made her chest tighten. She couldn’t afford to think of Gallen, or Borollai, or anything else. It only made the ache worse.

They reached a slightly larger chamber after what felt like an eternity, the river carving a path through the middle. The air here was colder, sharper, and Rowen paused to lean against the wall. Her legs trembled as though they might give out beneath her, and she slid down slowly until she was sitting on the damp stone.

Illinca joined her a moment later, collapsing without a word. She curled her knees to her chest, her fur matted and dull, her breathing slow but steady.

Rowen rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes for just a moment. She hated how much she wanted to cry. The tears wouldn’t come anyway—her body didn’t have the energy to spare. The hunger gnawed at her again, insistent and unrelenting. She clutched the crystal tighter, focusing on its faint glow.

Her mind wandered again. She thought of the festival, of the food she’d sold from the stall. She thought of the bracelet Daani had bought, of the way the sunlight had caught on its metal and made it shine. She thought of the way laughter had carried through the square, a sound so normal and warm it was hard to believe it had ever been real.

“You okay?” Illinca’s voice broke through the fog.

Rowen opened her eyes, blinking against the darkness. “Fine,” she lied. Her voice sounded hollow, even to herself.

Illinca didn’t push. She leaned back against the wall, her ears twitching at a distant sound—a faint drip, drip, drip of water somewhere far off. Rowen didn’t say anything, but she’d heard it too. The sound was constant now, an unrelenting rhythm that reminded her of how endless the caves seemed.

“We’ll find a way out,” Illinca said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Rowen wanted to believe her. She wanted to say something hopeful, something that would make this easier. But the words wouldn’t come. She clenched the crystal in her hand, its faint light flickering like a dying ember, and said nothing.

The river grew louder as they moved, the sound swelling from a faint murmur to a deep, echoing roar that filled the cavern. It was the first sign of anything different in what felt like days, and it drove them forward despite their aching limbs and empty stomachs. Rowen clutched the glowing crystal tightly, its dim light shaking with every unsteady step.

Her legs trembled as she stepped carefully along the bank, the ground sloping downward and becoming more uneven. The air grew colder still, carrying with it the faint scent of damp stone and something else—something faintly metallic, like rust. She frowned but said nothing, focusing on the path ahead.

Illinca trailed just behind her, her movements sluggish but deliberate. Her fur was dull and matted, her green eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion. She didn’t speak, conserving what little energy she had, but Rowen could hear the uneven scrape of her boots against the stone.

The cavern opened suddenly, the narrow passage giving way to a massive chamber that seemed to stretch endlessly. Rowen stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat as the glow of her crystal revealed the space before them.

The river they’d been following spilled into a vast chasm, its waters cascading over the edge in a roaring waterfall. Mist hung thick in the air, catching faint light from an unseen source high above. And spanning the width of the chasm, like a bridge frozen in time, were the bones.

Rowen stared, her heart pounding in her chest. The skeleton was massive, far larger than anything she’d ever imagined. Its ribcage arched high above the river, each bone thick and weathered, their pale surfaces smooth and almost polished by age. The skull loomed at the far end of the chasm, its empty eye sockets like dark voids staring into the cavern.

Illinca stepped up beside her, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. “Is that…” She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.

“A dragon,” Rowen said, the word heavy and foreign on her tongue. She felt as though the air had been knocked from her lungs. “A real dragon.”

Dragons were myths, creatures of legend. Rowen had grown up hearing tales of their power, their majesty, and their terrifying presence. But they were just that—stories. No one had seen a dragon in over a thousand years. Yet here it was, its remains undeniable, a relic of a forgotten age.

Illinca stepped closer to the edge of the chasm, her movements slow and deliberate. “How is this even possible?” she murmured, her green eyes wide as they traced the line of the skeleton. “They’re supposed to be extinct. Gone.”

Rowen didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her gaze was locked on the skull, its hollow eyes fixed on her as though it could see straight through her. There was something about it—something she couldn’t look away from. She felt a strange pull in her chest, a weight that pressed against her ribs and made it hard to breathe.

“Rowen?” Illinca’s voice was distant, muffled by the pounding of blood in her ears. “Are you all right?”

Rowen took a step forward, her feet moving as if of their own accord. The crystal’s glow seemed dimmer here, its light swallowed by the sheer scale of the cavern. She approached the edge of the chasm, her eyes fixed on the skull. Her heart raced, and a faint warmth began to spread through her chest, growing with every step she took.

“Rowen,” Illinca called again, sharper this time. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Rowen’s voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”

She stopped just short of the skull, her breath catching as the warmth in her chest intensified. She clenched the crystal tighter, her knuckles whitening, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away. The air felt heavier here, charged with something she couldn’t name.

The silence stretched, broken only by the distant roar of the waterfall. Rowen stared into the empty sockets of the skull, her mind a whirl of questions and half-formed thoughts. What had happened to this dragon? Why had it died here, alone in the dark? And why did she feel as though it was watching her?

Rowen’s breath hitched as the silence shattered—not with sound, but with presence. A deep, resonant voice filled her mind, vast and overwhelming, like the echoes of a distant storm rolling through her very thoughts.

“The world knew me as Auryndar.”

The name carried weight, heavy and ancient, and Rowen staggered back, clutching her head. Her legs felt weak, and her heart raced as though it might burst from her chest. The air around her seemed thicker, charged with something she couldn’t understand. She looked wildly around the cavern, expecting to see someone—or something—but the voice wasn’t coming from outside. It was inside her, a presence pressing against the edges of her consciousness.

“Who… who’s there?” she gasped, her voice cracking as she stumbled back toward Illinca. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the skull.

Illinca rushed to her side, gripping her arm. “Rowen! What’s wrong? Talk to me!”

But Rowen couldn’t answer. Auryndar’s voice echoed again, louder this time, as though the ancient dragon’s very essence were speaking directly to her soul.

“Daughter of Vyrndal,” the voice said, reverberating through her mind like a drumbeat. “You carry her blood. I have waited centuries for the coming of a spark, and now, at last, you have come.”

“Daughter of—what?” Rowen choked out, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. Her chest burned, not painfully, but with an intensity that left her breathless. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Illinca’s grip tightened. “Rowen, what are you hearing? What’s happening?”

Rowen tried to answer, but her throat felt locked, her voice swallowed by the overwhelming presence of Auryndar’s words. The dragon’s tone softened, though it lost none of its power.

“Do not fear, child of flame. You are the ember that will grow into a fire. This is only the beginning.”

The warmth in Rowen’s chest grew stronger, spreading outward like ripples in a still pond. It wasn’t painful, but it was consuming, filling her with a strange energy she didn’t know how to control. Her hand trembled, and the crystal she held slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground as her knees gave out.

“Stop—please!” she cried, clutching at her chest as though she could contain the heat within her. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Auryndar’s voice became quieter, gentler, but no less commanding. “You will, in time. This is but a spark. Nurture it, and it will grow. Let it falter, and it will die.”

The pressure in her mind began to recede, the voice fading like an echo carried on the wind. The warmth in her chest lingered, but it dimmed, leaving her shaking and breathless. Rowen blinked, the world coming back into focus as the weight of Auryndar’s presence lifted.

“Rowen,” Illinca said urgently, kneeling beside her. “What happened? You were… it looked like you were in pain.”

Rowen swallowed hard, her hands still trembling as she gripped her knees for support. “There was… a voice,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “In my head. It said its name was Auryndar.”

“Auryndar?” Illinca repeated, her ears flicking in confusion. “What does that mean? Who’s Auryndar?”

Rowen shook her head, tears welling in her eyes despite her efforts to hold them back. “I don’t know. He called me… daughter of Vyrndal. I don’t even know who that is.”

Illinca placed a steadying hand on Rowen’s shoulder, her green eyes searching her face. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “But right now, we need to get away from here. Whatever just happened, it’s clearly tied to that skeleton.”

Rowen nodded weakly, her body still trembling from the encounter. The warmth in her chest lingered faintly, like embers smoldering after a fire. She didn’t know what it meant, but one thing was certain: something had changed inside her.

Rowen had just begun to regain her composure, her breaths coming slower as the lingering warmth in her chest faded to an ember. Illinca stood nearby, her green eyes flicking toward Rowen with concern but staying silent, giving her space to process whatever had just happened.

The silence of the cavern felt heavier now, as though it pressed down on them from every direction. Rowen bent to pick up the faintly glowing crystal she’d dropped, her fingers trembling slightly as she closed them around the jagged edges.

Then came the voice. Sharp, cold, and commanding, it sliced through the air.

“Don’t move.”

Rowen froze, her head snapping up. The words echoed in the vast chamber, bouncing off the stone walls until it was impossible to tell where they had come from. Illinca stiffened, her ears pinning back as her eyes darted toward the shadows beyond the crystal’s dim light.

Another voice followed, low and threatening. “Hands where we can see them.”

Rowen’s pulse thundered in her ears as her eyes darted toward Illinca. Her friend’s face was unreadable, but her tail swished faintly, a sign of barely contained tension.

Neither of them moved. Neither dared to speak.

The faint scuff of boots against stone broke the silence, coming from every direction at once. Rowen’s grip tightened on the crystal as she realized the truth—they weren’t alone. The darkness beyond their fragile light held shapes, movement. They were surrounded.