"Artemis…"
The voice echoed like thunder rolling across a dying world.
Flames swirled around him—tall, alive, hungry. Ash rained from the heavens as massive wings
unfurled across the battlefield. The dragon stood before him, majestic and terrifying, its obsidian-
black scales veined with golden fire. Smoke curled from its nostrils. Its molten eyes locked onto
his with something ancient… something sorrowful.
"You are not ready," the dragon growled, each word shaking the air, "but you must awaken."
A gust of fire erupted behind it. The sky cracked like glass. In the distance, twisted shadows
moved like a living tide—coming, crawling, and reaching.
Artemis tried to move. Tried to speak.
The dragon stepped closer.
"Time is running out."
A bright flash—
A scream—
Then nothing.
Artemis gasped and sat up in bed, drenched in sweat.
The early light of dawn spilled across his room. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, and his
heart was pounding like it wanted to break free from his chest. He grabbed at his chest—
The pendant.
Still warm.
He stared down at it, fingers trembling slightly. It had never felt like this before. And the voice...
the dragon had spoken his name.
"What is happening to me…?"
He didn't have time to think further. A knock came at the door.
"Artemis!" his mother's voice called cheerfully. "Breakfast is ready!"
He took a deep breath, forcing the lingering fear from his mind, and got out of bed.
Artemis descended the creaking wooden stairs, the scent of fresh bread and sizzling eggs already
filling the warm air. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the cottage, dancing across the
shelves lined with herbs, jars, and little wooden carvings his father had made over the years.
In the kitchen, his mother turned from the hearth, wiping her hands on her apron. Her soft brown
eyes lit up when she saw him.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. You look like you had a long night."
He offered a tired smile. "Just a strange dream."
His mother raised an eyebrow but didn't press. Instead, she turned back to the food and called
out, "Kael ! lyra! Wake up! Your brother's already at the table."
Footsteps thundered from upstairs. A moment later, Artemis's younger brother Kael tumbled
down the stairs, hair wild and eyes half-shut. Lyra, their younger sister, followed with a yawn and a
sleepy smile, still clutching her ragged stuffed fox.
Their father—tall, broad, and with a beard that smelled permanently of firewood and earth—
entered last, stretching and scratching his shoulder. He kissed their mother on the cheek before
sitting down.
The table was full of life, chatter, and clinking spoons. Kael was already talking about a new
fishing spot he'd found. Their mother scolded him for almost falling in yesterday. Their father
chuckled and said something about building a new fence by the goat shed.
Artemis listened, nodded, even laughed a little… but part of him was somewhere else. The voice
from the dream still echoed in his skull.
"You must awaken."
He glanced at the pendant again. It sat silently against his chest—cool now, lifeless. But he knew
what he felt. That dream wasn't like the others.
Not anymore.
Later that Morning – In the Village
After breakfast, Artemis walked toward the village square. The path wound between stone
houses with moss-covered roofs, chickens clucking near gardens, and sleepy villagers beginning
their day. Children ran barefoot past him chasing a wooden hoop. An old woman waved from her
porch as she fed a line of cats.
"Morning, Artemis!" called Fenn, the village blacksmith, wiping soot from his hands.
Artemis waved back. "Morning!"
He passed the bakery, where Arion was already waiting outside with two steaming pastries in
hand and a grin plastered across his face.
"You're late," l said, handing him one of the pastries. "I figured you'd be half-dead from
whatever monster chased you in your dreams last night."
Artemis raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know I had anightmare?"
Arion froze for half a second. "You've been getting them a lot lately. You always get this
haunted look."
"...Yeah." Artemis took a bite, trying to shrug it off. "This one felt different."
Arion leaned against the bakery wall, his playful tone softening. "You alright, though?"
"I think so," Artemis lied.
They stood in silence for a while, watching the smoke rise from chimneys, the forest swaying
gently at the village's edge.
Then Artemis froze.
At the edge of the trees—just for a moment—
A figure stood watching.
A tall silhouette in a hooded cloak, unmoving, half-shadowed by branches.
Artemis blinked.
Gone.
Later That Afternoon
While Arion was busy helping his uncle repair a fence near the fields, Artemis slipped away. He
followed a narrow trail that curved toward the tree line, boots crunching over fallen leaves and
broken twigs.
The forest loomed before him—ancient and quiet.
Everyone in the village avoided it unless they had to hunt or gather herbs. Old stories were
whispered about it. Shadows that moved without wind. Sounds that came from nowhere. But
Artemis had never paid attention to those tales… until now.
His footsteps slowed as he crossed into the trees. Sunlight filtered through the branches in golden
beams, casting long, twisted shadows across the mossy ground. Birds fell silent as he walked
deeper.
The pendant around his neck began to grow warm again.
"You must awaken…"
The voice from the dream—barely audible—echoed like a memory inside his mind.
Artemis stopped.
There, carved deep into the bark of an ancient oak, were three massive claw marks, each as
thick as his arm. The edges were blackened, scorched as if by fire. The tree still steamed faintly.
He stepped closer.
Beside the claw marks, etched into the stone beneath the roots, was a faint, spiraling symbol…
glowing softly with a silver-blue light.
His pendant responded—glowing faintly in sync.
A gust of wind rushed past him. Cold. Wrong.
He spun around.
No one.
Just forest.
Just silence.
But the weight of something unseen pressed down on him.
He backed away slowly, heart racing, and turned to leave—but not before catching a final
glimpse of the symbol… which now looked alive, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The sun was dipping low by the time Artemis emerged from the trees.
The warmth of the village greeted him like a distant memory—children laughing near the well,
old men playing stones on a flat board, smoke curling from chimneys. Everything looked exactly
the same… and yet nothing felt the same.
His pendant no longer glowed, but a faint warmth still pulsed against his chest—like a silent
heartbeat reminding him that what he saw was real.
Arion spotted him near the bakery. "Where'd you disappear to?" he called, tossing a stick aside.
"Just needed some air," Artemis replied casually, wiping dirt from his hands.
Arion raised an eyebrow. "You always find air in the middle of nowhere?"
Artemis forced a small smile.
Arion shrugged and didn't push further. they both parted ways and walked home , the sounds of the village echoing around them. He
smiled at the baker's daughter as they passed, waved to the blacksmith who raised a sooty
hand—but his mind was far away, still tangled in claw marks and glowing stone.
That night, after dinner and stories and warmth, Artemis lay in bed staring up at the wooden
beams above. The house was quiet. Only the chirping of crickets outside the window and the
creaking of old timber kept him company.
He ran his fingers along the chain of his pendant.
It was cold now.
Lifeless.
But something had changed.
He knew it.
The forest had called to him.
The dragon had spoken his name.
And the mark on the stone still burned in his memory.
He turned onto his side, curling into the blanket, eyes wide open.
Something was awakening.
And it had started with him.