Chapter 3: The Shadowed Claim

Kael stood rooted to the forest floor, the deathly silence settling around him like a suffocating fog. The echoes of the dragons’ battle reverberated in his mind, their last, fierce roars like ancient war drums still vibrating within his chest. He forced his hand to loosen its grip on his crossbow. The shattered bodies of the dragons, and perhaps even a dragon egg—they were so close. If he found one, his life would change forever.

This is what you came for, Kael, he told himself, eyes scanning the shadowed trees. No turning back now. Not when I’m so close to gaining the power that I need.

The distant, hollow cries of lurking creatures began to fill the woods, echoing unnaturally as they drew closer. It was as though the trees themselves whispered of the ruin the battle had left behind. The air felt charged with something both terrifying and exhilarating. For a moment, his thoughts twisted toward turning back, toward running home and leaving the forest and its dangers behind. But then he imagined the look on his father’s face—pity mingled with disdain—and he felt his resolve steel inside him. Go back empty-handed? Not this time. He could already hear his father’s voice, thick with contempt: “Always after more than you can handle, aren’t you?”

Not this time.

If he found a dragon egg—claimed it and bonded with it—the queen herself would be bound by law and legend to let him keep it. No ruler would dare interfere with a dragon bond; it would be an insult to the gods. He could see it already: Greenhaven’s villagers, bowing with respect instead of pity, regarding him not as the boy with a dead family and bruises but as something untouchable, something powerful. He would be Kael Flynn, the dragon rider.

With one last glance over his shoulder, he slipped into the forest’s shadows, moving carefully through the dense undergrowth, ducking beneath branches and stepping lightly across wet patches of mud to muffle his steps. The hot, humid air pressed against him, making each breath thick and heavy, but he kept going. You’re meant for this, Kael. You’re meant for more.

The unnatural sounds grew louder, as though a host of creatures had been drawn to the dragons’ fall like vultures. Every crunch, every shuffle made him freeze and listen, his crossbow ready in his hands. It was slow going, but Kael knew it was the only way to survive.

Then he heard it.

A strange, wet snarl echoed through the trees, and Kael froze. His grip tightened on his crossbow as he turned, eyes searching through the oppressive darkness. A shape slithered from the shadows—a twisted, sinewy creature with skin like blistered stone and scales burned black. It twisted and cracked as it moved, as though its own bones and joints protested against its unnatural form. Eyes glowed red, fixed on him with a ravenous, piercing hunger. The thing’s mouth widened impossibly, revealing rows upon rows of jagged, serrated teeth, slick with the remains of its last victim.

Panic surged. Kael’s fingers fumbled over the etched runes on his crossbow, struggling to grasp it as his pulse hammered, his hands damp with sweat. Come on, Kael. Don’t freeze now. The creature inched closer, its spine arching, its muscles rippling beneath charred flesh as it prepared to spring. He swallowed, heart pounding, his fingers slipping as he tried to draw back the mechanism.

The thing lunged.

He released the bolt just as its mouth snapped toward him, its jagged teeth mere inches from his face. The bolt hit true, plunging into the creature’s maw. It let out a wet, strangled roar, the sickening crunch of bone and sinew reverberating as it crashed to the ground, twitching, its claws scraping the dirt in a final, futile spasm. Kael exhaled, feeling the weight of his near-death like a stone in his stomach. He looked down at the crossbow in his hands, feeling its essence entirely drained. Now, it was just dead weight.

“Close one, Kael,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely a breath. “Keep it together.” He took another step, forcing himself to keep going, moving with even greater caution, the terror still clawing at the back of his mind. He navigated the forest with heightened awareness, hyper-alert to every rustle and crack, his nerves stretched taut.

Time dragged on, the forest’s silence as thick as fog, broken only by the occasional rustle of distant creatures drawn by the dragons' fall. Kael crept forward, every muscle taut, his breath shallow as he wove between trees, sometimes doubling back when he caught sight of movement in the dark.

Finally, he reached the corpse of the fallen serpent. It lay sprawled across the forest, its twisted coils rising like small hills around him, its enormous size making it hard to even fathom. Broken trees littered the ground around it, splintered under the creature’s weight.

He approached the massive corpse, his gaze drawn to the scales. If he could pry one off, he could craft it into a shield, a talisman of sorts. Not a dragon scale, he thought, smiling slightly, but it’ll do.

With a grunt, he strained to pry one loose, and with a final twist, the scale gave, heavy and solid in his hands. He strapped it to his back, feeling a strange satisfaction at the weight of it against him. At least it wasn’t all for nothing. But he wanted more. He’d come for the dragons, and he wasn’t about to leave without trying.

Kael moved past the serpent’s corpse, ducking around fallen trees and staying low. As the sky deepened into twilight, he lost track of how many hours had passed since he’d first heard the dragons' cries. The forest’s shadows grew longer, the humidity clinging to him, but he ignored his growing hunger and thirst. Each snap of a branch or crunch of a leaf sent him scrambling up trees or crouching low, waiting for the danger to pass.

You’re still alive, Kael, he thought, clinging to the thought as much as he clung to the dense shadows of the forest. You’re almost there.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Finally, he found it—the clearing.

In the dim light, the dragon’s body was even more horrifying than he could have imagined. Its shadow-streaked scales, once gleaming and powerful, lay in tatters, some half-scraped clean by thousands of tiny, ravenous mouths. The remains of its flesh were mottled and raw, dark with dried blood, with claw marks raked deep into its side. The wings, twisted and broken, sprawled lifelessly around its crushed body, their membranes torn and rotting.

The orc rider lay nearby, his armor shattered, his limbs bent at unnatural angles, like a puppet whose strings had been violently cut. His face was frozen in a contorted snarl of defiance, even in death, his fingers still clutching the hilt of a broken sword.

Kael’s breath caught in his throat as he took it in, a mix of horror and awe flooding him. He stared at the scene, barely believing his eyes as the cold fingers of dread tickled his spine.

Kael’s gaze fell upon it: the egg. It lay nestled in the shallow dip of the dragon’s body, close to where her belly would have been. The egg was darker than shadow, its surface like polished obsidian, with faint shimmers rippling over it as though something pulsed within. The sight sent a chill through him. The egg was everything he had come here for—the key to his freedom, his power, his future.

Carefully, Kael crept into the clearing, his gaze never leaving the egg. The massive corpse loomed beside him as he approached, half-expecting the dead dragon to rise and defend her clutch. Holding his breath, he reached out, his hand brushing the egg’s cool surface.

A thrill coursed through him, visions flashing in his mind: soaring over Greenhaven, his father’s face twisted with shock and fear, the Queen bowing to acknowledge his power.

With hands shaking, he untied his belt and wrapped it tightly around the egg, securing it against his body. He glanced back at the broken dragon, part of him wanting to pry her scales loose, to collect every ounce of power that lay before him. But a crunch of leaves somewhere nearby jolted him to his senses. Tightening the knot around the egg, he looked back the way he had come.

“Time to go,” he muttered to himself, voice barely above a whisper. Hold it together. You’ve got what you need.

He bolted as quickly as he dared from the clearing, the egg pressed against his stomach, the scale strapped to his back. His thoughts raced, adrenaline pushing him forward faster than he had ever run. The visions of himself as a dragon rider flickered in his mind: gliding over Greenhaven, watching the villagers gape in awe, his father’s shock-stricken face. No longer the pitied boy, he thought. Someone Ma could be proud of.

Kael moved through the dense underbrush, his pace slower now under the weight of the precious egg strapped to his chest. The forest was nearly silent, as if mourning the fallen beasts. But the eerie calm only set him on edge, his fingers still trembling from the surge of adrenaline. He paused, his eyes scanning the ground as he moved, careful not to snap any twigs. Then, something shimmered through the trees—a splash of blue scales under the faint moonlight.

The second dragon lay sprawled across a rocky outcrop, its crystalline scales dull in death. Pyrope had been majestic in the sky, a whirlwind of fire and fury, but here on the ground, her broken body seemed diminished, vulnerable. Kael’s gaze dropped, following the curve of her body, and then he saw it. Nestled beside her, partially hidden by her twisted wing, was another egg.

Kael’s breath caught, his eyes widening. Two eggs. One dragon egg was an unthinkable prize, a gift beyond measure. But two? For a moment, he was paralyzed by the sheer possibility. Let the Queens take one of the eggs he thought, almost dizzy with exhilaration.

Swallowing his awe, he moved forward, hands trembling as he reached for the second egg. It was slightly smaller and a deep, shimmering black, like an ocean at midnight.

He looped one arm around the second egg, nestling it securely against his chest. The other arm held the scale from the serpent pressed close, their combined weight solid and reassuring, a physical reminder of the power he held. Or would hold—once he escaped. He adjusted the eggs securely against him and pressed onward, his footsteps light.

It was only when a strange smell hit his nostrils—thick, acrid smoke—that he faltered. He stopped and lifted his nose, inhaling deeply as he tried to determine its direction. At first, he thought he’d wandered dangerously close to the battle lines between humans and orcs, but this scent was different, tainted with an undercurrent of charred wood and burnt thatch. A wave of dread settled over him. Greenhaven.

Kael broke into a jog, darting through the trees until he reached a ridge overlooking the valley below. His stomach twisted with exhilaration as he stared down at the town that had raised him. Greenhaven was overrun with monsters, dark forms moving like shadows across the town’s winding streets, flickering in and out of sight among the burning rooftops and crumbling walls. The old stone houses, meticulously crafted by the masons of Greenhaven, stood mostly intact, but their thatched roofs blazed like torches, casting the town in an orange-red glow. Smoke billowed upward, thick and choking, while the shrieks and cries pierced the night, sending chills through him.

You’re free now, he told himself, his chest swelling with an intoxicating thrill. Greenhaven’s chains are gone. No more father, no more pitying looks. The thought was liberating, exhilarating. He almost laughed, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside him.

But as his gaze swept over the burning buildings, a pang of sadness cut through his exhilaration. The library—its sturdy timbers and shelves full of worn, ancient texts—was now a roaring pyre. The dusty, ink-stained desk where he’d pored over rune books and old maps was gone, lost in the flames. It’s just a building, he tried to tell himself, but the sight stirred a deep sorrow within him, a sliver of grief lodged in the back of his mind. The library had been his haven, a refuge even when the rest of Greenhaven had felt like a prison.

His smile faded, and he clenched his fists. The flames devouring Greenhaven were consuming part of him too. And then came the thought of the people—Aria, who always encouraged him; the old baker who always offered him a slice of sweet bread whenever he passed by; the middle-aged couple who managed the library, their kind faces guiding him through countless hours of study. They were gone now, lost to the chaos and flames.

The weight of their absence crushed down on him, deepening the sadness that coursed through him. Despite all that happened, he couldn’t ignore the practicalities pressing in around him. He had no food, no water, no supplies, and an empty crossbow. If I keep running, I’ll be dead by morning. He scanned the smoldering streets below, gauging his chances of slipping into town once the monsters had moved on.

I’ll have to fight. He grimaced, thinking of the possibilities. There might be weapons left near the gates, somewhere the guards fell. Anything would be better than an empty crossbow if he wanted to survive until morning.

With a heavy heart, Kael turned his back on the burning town and slid quietly back into the shadows of the forest, crouching among the thick foliage as he waited. He would watch, he would wait, and when the moment was right, he’d strike.