The forest stretched endlessly, its towering trees so thick and imposing that only the faintest shafts of sunlight dared intrude, painting the world in a shadowy twilight. The air was steeped in an eerie hush.

Crack-BOOM!

Through this murky ambience, a fist wreathed in flames blazed into motion, its owner weaving deftly through hulking, wolf-like beasts. A claw swiped from the right—gracefully dodged. On his face was a grin I’d never quite seen before, a rakish confidence that felt almost foreign. Another narrow miss, another counter—a flaming fist smashed home with an explosive blast, sending a wolf’s head scattering into ash and ruin.

The ground beneath his boots bore the charred scars of his movements. Every step he took left a sizzling mark. In moments, three of the monstrous creatures—each easily Stage 4 by their size—were reduced to smouldering corpses. And all of it happened right before my eyes.

A raucous cheer erupted behind him as four strangers emerged from the shadows. One of them, a round-cheeked, jovial fellow, clapped him heartily on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear.

“Reiner, mate! Honestly, no one’s going to believe you’ve never hunted monsters before. You make it look downright natural! Bloody show-off,” he added with a wink, offering a fist bump.

It had hardly been long since I’d last seen him, but it felt like lifetimes. The tears threatened, unbidden, but I swallowed them back. Beside me, Gwen watched the scene unfold with a smirk of quiet amusement.

“Not sure I’d call it natural, Giles,” Father quipped, gesturing to the gash across his hand. “Had a few close calls.”

At this, another man stepped forward, casting a spell that mended the wound. His skirt fluttered as he worked.

“Close calls or not, hard to believe you’ve no experience with this lark. Guess there’s a reason the Master herself recommended you for the team,” the mage remarked.

“Still, landing a stage fours on your first outing? You’ve set the bar, mate!” chimed in Giles, the jovial one. “These missions’ll be an absolute doddle from now on.”

“Scaredy-cat,” the skirt-wearer snorted. “You’ve always hated the front lines, even back when you were supposed to be a warrior.”

“Oi! It’s hard work! I’m just glad we’ve got someone competent now to keep you and Beatrice safe while you’re prancing about with your spells, Cedric.”

From somewhere below, a petite girl with wide eyes beamed. “Brilliant! Though it’d be even better if you wore a skirt, too! So much more freedom for movement!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on the spot.

Father ruffled her hairs, grinning. “Maybe next time, Beatrice.”

The tallest of the group, a stoic woman wielding a hammer like it was an extension of herself, cut in with a faint growl. “Don’t listen to her. If anyone else starts taking fashion advice from Cedric, I’m quitting.”

Cedric smirked. “Jealous, are we, Lavinia? Still can’t handle how good I look?”

Lavinia’s glare was so withering it could’ve melted stone, and for a moment, I thought she might throttle him outright.

I stayed at the edge of it all, watching. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen Father like this—happy. Laughing, bantering, living. He’d always carried such anger, not at me, but for me—for the unfairness of the world. And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, that weight seemed to have lifted. Just a little.

I’d asked him countless times about his past. About her—my mother. Every time, I was met with silence or evasion, never a straight answer. At first, I thought he was lying to me, that he didn’t want me to know. But over time, it felt more like he didn’t know himself. As though the truth eluded him as much as it did me.

“Don’t let that happy smile fool you,” Gwen murmured from beside me. “He’s still a very broken man inside.”

“Broken?” I echoed, my gaze flickering between her and him.

“A man whose memories have been wiped away along with his past,” she said. “An extreme measure to ensure certain secrets never see the light of day. What else could I call him, if not broken?”

I stared at him, my expression blank, though my thoughts churned with unease. “I suppose the reason is… me.”

“Of course it’s you, little one,” Gwen replied matter-of-factly, her slitted eyes gleaming as she turned to me. “I cannot stress enough how precious your existence is—as a true dragon. You’re not just important. You’re vital.”

She began to move, weaving through the dense cover of giant trees. The hollow beside us opened into a steep path leading to the hill’s peak. I hesitated for a moment before following. When we reached the summit, the sun was rising, its rays stretching out from the distant east. The view was breathtaking, a landscape so tranquil, so untouched… yet, in my heart, I felt it was a place ripe for fire. For ruin.

She gestured towards the horizon as she spoke. “I gave him a choice earlier,” she began. “He took it. I assured him I’d find you—his daughter—and keep you safe if you were alive. Now, it’s your turn. Your time to make a choice.”

Her words pulled me back from the vista, and I looked at her sharply. Gwen’s expression was unreadable, her lips curling into a faint smile.

“Something much larger is brewing on this continent, little dragonling,” she continued. “Something far grander than an intruder rallying an army under the guise of divinity. I could take you and your father away from it all. Far from the chaos, to a place untouched by this conflict. You’d be guarded by the Order’s finest, nurtured into everything you could become. Monsters, bound and served to you on a silver platter. You’d be royalty, a pampered little princess, your every need met.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” I said flatly. “What’s the catch?”

Her smile widened. “Ah, I thought you’d catch on. The catch, my dear, is your freedom. Outside this forsaken continent, Monarchs wage wars for power, Families and Sects engage in endless blood feuds, and paradise is but a dream. It’s brutal out there, even more so than here. But under The Order—the organisation I belong to—you’d be safe. Every comfort, every advantage... at the cost of your autonomy.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Her words sent an electric jolt down my spine, my scales prickling with unease. My chest tightened, instincts clawing at me, demanding rebellion. The idea of such a gilded cage—no matter how comfortable—was anathema. To be confined was no life at all.

I felt it. A primal defiance surging through me. A fire in my very bones. Perhaps it was born of a past steeped in caution and self-denial, where every step had to be calculated. A time when I couldn’t truly embrace what I was. Living that false life... it had left its mark.

What she offered made perfect sense for anyone who valued survival. But these past few days had taught me there was more to life than simply keeping it safe. I had felt the thrill of discovery, the rush of freedom, the raw vitality of following my nature. This... this offer felt like a slap in the face of everything I’d come to realise.

I couldn’t do it.

“What about the second option?” I asked at last.

Gwen’s smile shifted, turning rueful. “Freedom, little one, comes with its own array of paths. You’d choose your own way. Stay here, perhaps—delve into the shadows of your past, uncover secrets buried in obscurity. Or,” her grin sharpened, electric and predatory, “you could join me. Embrace the chaos. Be the storm that tears this rotten, festering order apart. Cut through the lies, the false god, the pretence of divinity.

“Slay the so-called goddess who dares to play at being a deity. Burn her empire, her nobility, her armies, to the ground. Take your rage and forge it into a legacy that this continent won’t soon forget.” She stepped closer, her blazing eyes locking with mine. “But make no mistake—there’d be no safety nets. No silver platters. Just you, your will, and the fire you choose to unleash.”

Something about her words sent a shiver of sharp, almost pleasurable anticipation through me. My scales tingled, my pupils dilating ever so slightly. I didn’t like being cornered by choices, and yet... this second option called to me like nothing else.

To uncover the truths of my past. To explore who—what—I truly was. To embrace my nature, free and unbound.

The choice was obvious.

"[GWEN! Surely you’re not seriously entertaining this madness!]" A sudden burst of static yanked me out of my thoughts. I glanced up at Gwen, who was clutching a marble from which the voice emanated. "[Erryn would roast your scaly arse for even thinking about it!]"

“Oh, Kaelen, you worry too much about that old crone,” Gwen replied with a smirk. “Leave her to me. I’ve a knack for persuasion, and you might just find her choice surprising. I know her better than you do, after all.”

“[Yes, of course, as a Wyvern you clearly have unparalleled insight into the workings of dragons],” the voice sniped. “[But she’s not the only one you ought to worry about, is she?]”

Gwen’s gaze wandered off into the distance. “Believe me, I’m painfully aware.”

A sigh crackled through the marble. [And yet, here you are, charging ahead anyway.]

“As I said, I gave her both options—just as you insisted—and she’s free to choose.”

[But the freedom part…]

“What, would you have preferred I spin some pretty little lie? Oh, grow up, Kaelen. She’d curse me to the Void the moment she realized her gilded cage wasn’t quite so shiny. No, I simply told her the truth.”

The voice on the other end fell silent, and for a brief moment, I wondered if the connection had dropped. Then came a resigned sigh. “[Hah... I suppose you’re right. As much as it pains me to admit it. Still, I want no part in this. When it all goes sideways—and it will—I’ll wash my talons of it. No dragons here. Not one. Not a single scale on this forsaken continent.]”

“You’re utterly hopeless at taking responsibility, aren’t you?” Gwen teased, chuckling. “But don’t fret, I’m fully prepared to bear the brunt of my choices.”

“[Oh, I know you are,]” Kaelen shot back, “[Any chance I can still talk you out of it?]”

“None whatsoever.”

“[Didn’t think so,]” he muttered. “[But tread carefully. Just don’t go roping her into your schemes straight away. Lithrindel isn’t what it used to be. Even someone like you needs to watch your step. It’s more dangerous now than ever.]”

“I know that all too well, Kaelen,” Gwen said, her tone suddenly serious. “I’m reckless, not suicidal.”

“[Here’s hoping you don’t muck it up, then.]”

She grinned. “I never do.”

The glow of the marble dimmed as Kaelen’s voice faded into silence. Gwen tucked it away with a nonchalant flick of her wrist, her smile lingering as she turned to me. “Don’t mind him. A bit grumpy, overly righteous, and far too fond of lecturing, but he’s got a good heart under all that bluster.”

I could see that.

I turned my gaze to the horizon. “I think I might be a fool for even considering the second choice here.”

Gwen’s lips curved into an indulgent smirk. “That’s just who you are—a foolish little dragonling.”

Her words stung, though not unkindly. “I just… I want to do it all on my own. Earn my own power. Uncover my own past. I’ve already stumbled onto a few clues.”

“Oh?” Her ears perked up with interest, betraying genuine curiosity.

I hesitated, half-expecting her to already know. For someone as formidable as Gwen, ignorance seemed improbable, yet… “Yeah. Someone I saved mentioned I look like their princess—spitting image, in fact, when I’m in my half-human form. He was from a clan of Drakkaris. In Vraal'Kor.”

“…Fascinating,” she murmured, her expression shifting into something sharper, hungrier for understanding. “A beastkin species with the remnants of dragon blood. They’re even rumoured to shift into dragon form upon reaching a certain power threshold.”

“Drakkaris have dragon blood?” I asked, bewildered. Now that I thought about it, the name was painfully obvious. Drakkari. Should have guessed.

“Of course. All beastkin species descend from primal beasts, their bloodlines diluted through the ages. The difference between a pureblood Drakkari and your form—a half-human Drakkari hybrid—is barely discernible now.”

Her words settled into my mind like seeds, their implications sprouting into possibilities. One thing stood out, though, a path that felt inevitable. “I think… I think I might already have my next lead. Whether it’s coincidence or fate, I can’t ignore it.”

Gwen’s grin broadened as her hand came to rest atop my head, her fingers raking through my scales with a fondness that felt oddly disarming. “Well, well. What… interesting timing we have here,” she remarked.

I itched to probe further—what exactly did she mean by "interesting"? But the thought was wrenched from me, my focus snapping to the forest behind. A pang shot through my chest as my gaze lingered on the trees. Shadows of a life. Something I wasn’t ready to revisit.

“The choice is yours,” Gwen said. “If you want to see him. Even if it’s just to say goodbye.”

Oh, how I wanted to. Every fibre of my being cried out to turn back, to face my father one last time. But…

I wasn’t ready.

He was already broken—because of me. His memories, his past, wiped clean to keep my secret buried. Neither of us knew what had truly happened. And now, as a fully-fledged dragon, the question gnawed at me: was I still a danger to him?

The road ahead offered no room for safety nets or second chances. It was a path riddled with uncertainty, strewn with peril, and I had no idea what awaited me—or who might come for me next.

Did I dare risk dragging him into that?

I wasn’t powerful—not yet. Gwen and that monstrosity had made it perfectly clear just how woefully inadequate I still was. There was so much more to learn, so much strength to gain, enough that one day I wouldn’t be forced to make such choices.

“Just seeing him happy… that’s enough for me.” A faint smile played on my lips as I turned toward the horizon, now bathed in the full light of the sun. “I think I’ve got my heading.”

No sooner had the words left me than movement caught my eye—a squadron of flying, gargoyle-like creatures closing in fast. My wings flared wide, claws flexing as I launched myself skyward, a scaly missile hurtling toward the first foe.

The world could hurl whatever it fancied my way.

My claws struck first, tearing through its wailing form.

My path was crystal clear—to carve out a place of my own.

It lunged as I twisted sharply aside.

Let’s be honest, though—

A jet of flame scorched through its skull.

—it’s a far easier task…

[You have slain a Level 2 Basaltoid Sentinel (IV).]

[Experience Points acquired.]

…when you can grow stronger by killing and devouring your enemies.

I fixed the others with a feral, gleaming gaze. Hungry didn’t even begin to cover it.