Aren's heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in sharp bursts as the massive black bear charged toward him. He'd faced dangerous beasts before, but back then, he'd been trained, armored, and armed properly. Now, in this frail, unfamiliar body, he was just a skinny kid with little strength to spare. Reckless confrontation was suicide. Survival meant smart choices.
He forced himself to stay calm, eyes locked on the bear's glowing red orbs, glowing like embers of pure rage. Slowly, deliberately, he took a step back—then another—making sure not to turn his back on the beast. Keep it in sight. Don't panic.
When he judged the distance safe enough, he broke into a run, ducking and weaving between the trees, heading for the denser part of the forest. If the space between trunks was tight, maybe the bear's size would slow it down.
One hand hovered near the axe strapped to his back—a last-ditch weapon he hoped to avoid using.
Branches snapped and cracked violently as the bear crushed its way forward. The ground shook beneath its pounding paws, and the air filled with the scent of wild musk and freshly disturbed earth. This is no ordinary animal, Aren thought grimly. That glow—an emblem. A power enhancing its strength. This is the worst kind.
He glanced around desperately for a hiding spot but found none. The great trees that once towered here lay splintered and fallen, casualties of the earthquake and the lumberjack's axe alike. Marks on some trees told him others had walked this path before him—if only the owner had survived.
Ahead, the forest abruptly ended at a jagged cliff wall. A dead end.
No escape. Aren's pulse quickened.
[Your Majesty, the bear will reach your position in approximately ten seconds.]
Without hesitation, Aren launched himself at the rocky face. His fingers scrambled over rough edges, searching for any crack or crevice to cling to. His muscles burned, but memories of his youth surged through his veins—years of climbing training came flooding back. Though his body was weaker now, it was also lighter, and that counted for something.
Below him, the bear appeared, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air, eyes locked on his silhouette five meters above the ground. The beast reared up on its hind legs, towering over him, and then began leaping violently against the rock, slamming its massive paws within inches of Aren's feet.
Each thud sent vibrations through the cliff, threatening to loosen his grip.
Suddenly, the bear's fur shimmered with a faint, eerie glow, as if its very essence was burning with power. It backed away slowly—then, without warning, charged the wall with earth-shaking force. The impact rattled the cliffside and caused Aren's fingers to slip. His body jerked, but he clung desperately with one hand.
The bear retreated, eyes burning with fury, and charged again.
Aren's free hand closed tightly around the axe handle. Now or never.
"Here it comes," he whispered through gritted teeth.
As the bear slammed into the wall for the third time, Aren released the rock with one hand, gripping the axe with both hands. He twisted his body and swung downward, the blade slicing through thick black fur and meeting solid bone with a sickening crunch.
Blood spattered across his face and arms, warm and sticky. The bear roared—a deafening sound of pain and rage—and lurched upright, blood streaming from a deep wound in its skull.
Aren held on with everything he had, balancing precariously on the beast's back as it thrashed and twisted to shake him loose. The world spun around him, his legs pressed tight against the animal's sides, his grip slipping slightly on the blood-slick axe handle.
Don't let go. Not now. Not ever.
With a furious snarl, the bear bolted back into the forest, smashing its head into tree trunks, each impact shaking Aren's entire body. Every jarring collision threatened to wrench the axe free, and Aren's hands ached with the effort of holding on.
Ahead, he spotted a massive tree, its trunk nearly severed but still standing—a remnant of the lumberjack's unfinished work. An idea sparked in Aren's mind like a flash of lightning.
Gathering all his strength, he twisted the axe handle sharply, steering the bear like a rudder on a ship. His legs clung tighter, muscles trembling as he fought to control the enraged beast's direction. Slowly, the bear veered toward the precariously balanced tree.
The seconds stretched, heavy and electric.
Time slowed.
A familiar surge of adrenaline and clarity flooded Aren's senses. That same sharp focus he'd known in battle before—the fine line between life and death, victory and defeat—now held him steady.
He was alive. And he was fighting.
⁂
The room was shrouded in darkness so absolute it felt as if the air itself had thickened, pressing cold and heavy against Aren's skin. He stood alone—alone but for a single spotlight above him, its harsh white glow cutting through the black void like a knife, illuminating him as if he were on a stage crafted by fate itself. Around him, nothing stirred. No forest, no earth, no sign of the beast he had fled. Just the stillness, and the waiting.
His breath was steady but shallow. He felt exposed, as if the walls themselves were watching, waiting for his next move.
A voice shattered the silence — deep, resonant, and layered with a power that sent a vibration through Aren's very bones. It wasn't a question; it was a decree that rippled in the shadows.
"Do you know why you are here, Aren of House Valoria?"
The voice echoed like thunder in a vast cavern, strong enough to make his chest vibrate and his heart race, but calm enough to demand respect.
Aren's mind raced but his voice came steady, almost tentative. "I guess I know."
From the darkness behind him, a titanic silhouette slowly emerged — a colossal, winged figure unfolding like a living nightmare. Its body was a masterpiece of muscle and scale, each plate shimmering faintly in the meager light like molten metal forged in the depths of some primordial forge. The wings, enormous and powerful, hung folded at its sides, their membranes rippling with latent energy. Its neck was long and thick, coiling with the strength of centuries, and atop it sat a head crowned with jagged, irregular horns that twisted skyward like the spires of a forgotten cathedral.
A dragon. No doubt about it. The air crackled with an almost tangible energy, and Aren's chest tightened in recognition — and in awe.
This feels just like when I was first bestowed the Bright Dragon emblem... The memory came unbidden, flickering through his mind like a distant firelight. But this moment was different—darker, more raw. This wasn't a ceremonial meeting with an old ally; it was a test, a reckoning.
The dragon's presence pressed down on him like a physical force, heavy and intense. Aren's legs bent instinctively, and he knelt — not in fear, but in respect, acknowledging the vast gulf between them.
"Tell me, King Aren," the dragon's voice rumbled, eyes igniting with searing white flames, "why do you seek power?"
Aren's voice was quiet but firm, his resolve crystallizing with every word. "I seek power to find answers. I need power to survive."
The dragon lowered its head, the massive scaled neck curving gracefully until the glowing eyes were almost at ground level, a gesture both intimate and imposing.
"And what will you do once you survive? Once you find your answers?"
The question struck Aren like a blow, forcing him to confront the raw truth he'd buried deep beneath hope and duty. His body was weaker, his mind fogged with doubt. He was stranded, cut off from all he'd known, his legacy hanging by a fragile thread.
But still, he answered, the weight of his crown and his dreams pushing him forward. "I will continue what I left behind. I want to bring peace... to unite the world under one flag."
The dragon's gaze pierced him, as if weighing every fiber of his soul. "A noble goal... but I may require more than words." Its laughter, deep and thunderous, echoed off the unseen walls, shaking the very air.
Aren's chest tightened further. Did I say something foolish? he wondered. It was easier to face a savage bear than the scorn of a proud dragon.
"Aren of Valoria," the voice lowered into a harsh growl, "I do not accept you as king. Nor as a worthy vessel for my power."
Silence stretched thick between them. Aren said nothing. He knew better than to anger such a creature.
"Is my power not enough for you?" the dragon's head lowered until their faces were inches apart, nostrils flaring with smoldering heat. "Why do you not beg for it?"
Aren met those blazing eyes unflinchingly, lifting his chin with steady pride. "No, Your Eminence. Your power is vast and undeniable. But... I am no king anymore."
The dragon's eyes narrowed, challenging.
"But I sense something deeper, something you hesitate to say. Speak, Aren of Valoria."
Aren's heart beat fiercely as he laid bare the truth — first to himself, then to this living legend before him.
"I must survive first. When I wake, I have to find a way to defeat that bear — with or without your aid. Then, I will reclaim what I lost: my strength, my purpose, my answers. And I will fulfill my promise to my people."
The dragon's gaze softened just a fraction, as if weighing the sincerity of his words.
"And what was that promise, truly?"
"To create a world without barriers. To unite it, to bring balance wherever it is needed." His voice grew stronger, fiercer. "I swore it as a king... but I will make it true — whether as a king, or simply as Aren."
His heart steadied with each word; he was no longer the frightened boy uncertain of his path. He was a man grasping the reigns of fate itself.
The dragon's eyes flared, illuminating Aren's face with a pure, brilliant light — outlining the sharp teeth, the impenetrable scales, the ancient wisdom that stretched back through the ages.
Aren was small beneath that gaze, but he did not flinch. Yet, suddenly, he understood why the dragon had laughed. It was not mockery — it was challenge.
"Aren of Valoria... you are not a king — not yet. You are unfit to wield my full power. But you will learn."
The dragon's voice was a command, not a question.
"Remember — as I grant you this emblem, I can just as easily take it back. Along with your life. Do you accept this pact?"
Aren's answer came without hesitation, fueled by everything he had endured. "Yes. I do, Your Eminence."
The dragon exhaled a rush of warm, glowing steam from its nostrils. It rose to its full terrifying height, wings unfurling like thunderclouds blotting out the light, casting a shadow that swallowed Aren whole.
"And so, wake up, Aren of Valoria," the dragon's voice thundered in his soul. "Call my name — and my power shall manifest through you!"
⁂
Aren's eyes snapped open. The cold forest air hit his face. He was still balanced precariously on the bear's back, hands gripping the axe tightly. The massive beast was mere steps from the ancient tree—its last hope of escape.
With a surge of strength he didn't know he possessed, Aren pushed off the bear's back, twisting into a perfect backflip as the bear collided with the tree. The impact shook the earth but the tree held firm.
The bear's eyes flared deeper crimson, fur blazing with the terrible glow of emblem power. It snarled, ready to charge again — this time with the full fury of its awakened might.
Aren drew his dagger in one smooth motion, planting his feet firmly on the ground. No retreat. No fear. His breath was steady. His mind sharp.
The dragon's voice echoed in his heart — fierce, commanding, and full of ancient fire.
"Call my name!"
With every fiber of his being, Aren shouted:
"Awake, Dark Dragon!"