Eric's eyes snapped open.
Darkness surrounded him, broken only by the faint azure glow of the crystal still pulsing on its pedestal. For a moment, he lay perfectly still, his mind struggling to catch up with his body. He remembered pain—terrible, consuming pain—and blood, and dying.
But he wasn't dead.
Eric sat up slowly, his hands moving to his chest where the creature's tail had impaled him. His robes were stiff with dried blood, the fabric torn and crusted, but beneath it... nothing. No wound. No scar. Just smooth, unbroken skin.
His breath came faster. The chamber was silent except for the pounding of his own heart. Where was the creature? The shadow thing with crimson eyes that had killed him?
He didn't wait to find out.
Eric scrambled to his feet and ran, diving back into the narrow passage. He crawled and stumbled through the darkness, scraping his hands on stone, not caring about the pain. All that mattered was getting out, getting away from that cursed chamber and whatever horrors it contained.
Fresh air hit his face like a blessing. Eric burst from the cave into the night, gulping down lungfuls of cool forest air. The moon hung overhead, nearly full, casting silver light through the trees. How long had he been in there? Hours? Days?
He ran through the forest, branches whipping at his face, his blood-soaked robes catching on thorns. The ruins passed in a blur, then familiar trees, and finally the outer edges of Greenbrook Village. His legs burned, but he didn't stop until he reached the crooked little house that was home.
Light spilled from the window—a single candle, burning low.
Eric pushed open the door and nearly collided with his mother.
"Eric!" Lin grabbed him by the shoulders, her face pale with worry and exhaustion. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for hours! It's past midnight, and you—" Her words died as she saw his robes. "Gods above, is that blood?"
"Ma, I—"
"What happened?" She pulled him toward the candlelight, her hands already checking him for injuries with frantic efficiency. "Were you attacked? How badly are you hurt?"
"A beast attacked me," Eric said, his voice hoarse. "In the forest, I was—"
"Hold still." His mother yanked at his torn robes, exposing his chest. Her hands moved across his skin, searching for wounds, for broken bones, for anything that would explain the amount of blood covering him.
She found nothing.
Lin stepped back, her expression shifting from panic to confusion. "I don't... where are you hurt?"
"I'm not," Eric said, and realized it was true. Apart from scrapes on his hands from crawling through the cave, he felt fine. Better than fine, actually. Stronger.
"Eric, are you certain you were attacked?" His mother's voice was careful now, worried in a different way. "This much blood..."
"Yes! I swear, Ma, I was—" How could he explain what had happened? The cave, the crystal, the monster, dying? She'd think he'd lost his mind. "There was a Stone Wolf. It chased me, and I..." He gestured helplessly at his blood-soaked clothes. "I don't know how, but I got away."
Lin studied his face for a long moment, then pulled him into a tight embrace. "As long as you're safe. That's all that matters." She held him for several heartbeats, then released him and brushed at her eyes quickly. "I saved you some soup. It's cold now, but..."
"Thank you."
She brought him the bowl—the same thin vegetable broth they'd been eating for months, more water than substance, seasoned with poverty and desperation. Eric drank it anyway, the familiar taste grounding him in reality. His sister Wei was already asleep in the back room, undisturbed by the commotion.
"Get some rest," his mother said, returning to her mending by the dying candle. "We'll wash those clothes in the morning."
Eric nodded and moved to his sleeping mat in the corner. He lay down, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. Why was he alive? He'd died—he was certain of it. That wound had been fatal. He'd felt his life drain away.
And there had been a voice...
**"Because I would not let you perish so easily, young heir."**
Eric bolted upright, his heart hammering. The voice resonated in his head, ancient and powerful, the same one from the cave.
"Who—" he started to speak aloud, then caught himself. His mother was right there. "Who are you?" he thought instead, feeling foolish.
**"I am the Azure Dragon of the East, He Who Once Ruled the Celestial Peaks, Guardian of the Eastern Seas, and Lord of—"**
"Wait," Eric interrupted mentally. "Dragon? An actual dragon?"
**"Is that so difficult to believe, when you died and yet live?"**
Eric had no answer for that. He glanced at his mother, but she was focused on her mending, oblivious to the conversation happening inside his head. He slipped outside as quietly as possible, into the small yard behind their house.
The night air was cool against his skin. Above, stars wheeled in their eternal dance.
"How are you speaking to me?" Eric asked the darkness.
**"We are bonded now,"** the dragon's voice rumbled through his consciousness. **"When you accepted my offer with your dying breath, you became my heir. My power flows through your veins. My knowledge rests in your mind. We are connected, you and I, until death parts us."**
"I don't understand any of this," Eric whispered. But even as he spoke, he could feel something inside him—a presence, vast and ancient, coiled at the center of his being like a sleeping giant. Power, raw and untamed, just waiting to be unleashed.
**"You will understand, in time. For now, you must rest. Tomorrow, we begin your training."**
"Training?"
**"You accepted the pact, Eric Chen. I promised to make you great, to give you strength beyond measure. But power without control is worthless. Sleep now. Dawn comes swiftly, and we have much work to do."**
The presence in his mind faded to a background hum, still there but quiet. Eric stood in the moonlight for several more minutes, trying to process everything, before finally returning inside and lying down on his mat.
Sleep should have been impossible. Instead, it claimed him in seconds, deep and dreamless.
---
Morning arrived with pale light and the smell of his mother cooking rice porridge—a rare breakfast that meant she'd managed to earn a bit extra yesterday.
Eric woke feeling more rested than he had in months. His mother was already up, stirring the pot over their small fire pit.
"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, concern still evident in her voice.
"Yes, Ma. I feel fine. Better than fine."
"Good." She ladled porridge into a bowl for him. "Be more careful when you go to the forest today. Stay on the safer paths, hear me? I can't..." Her voice caught. "I can't lose you too."
The unspoken name of his father hung in the air between them.
"I'll be careful," Eric promised. "I won't go near the ruins again."
After breakfast, he set out with his basket, heading toward the forest. The morning was crisp, dew still clinging to the grass, and Greenbrook was just beginning to stir. A few early risers nodded to him as he passed, their expressions neutral—they didn't know yet about yesterday's fight with Rorick, hadn't heard about Master Tobias telling him to quit.
Good. He wasn't ready to face their judgment today.
This time, Eric stayed well away from the ruins, choosing a familiar path through the safer sections of forest where medicinal herbs grew in abundance. He found a small clearing and set down his basket.
"So what now?" he asked aloud, checking to make sure no one was nearby.
**"Sit,"** the dragon commanded.
"Here?"
**"Do you see somewhere else more suitable?"**
Eric sat cross-legged on the forest floor, feeling somewhat ridiculous. "Now what?"
**"Meditate. Clear your mind. Feel the energy that flows through all living things—the qi that cultivators harness. You must learn to sense it before you can control it."**
"I know how to meditate," Eric said, irritated. "I've been training for five years. It never worked before."
**"Because you were trying to force a river through a crack in stone. Now that crack has been shattered. Meditate, heir. And do so for at least three hours."**
"Three hours?" Eric jumped to his feet. "I can't just sit here for three hours! I need to gather herbs, earn money, my family needs—"
**"Your family needs you to become strong,"** the dragon's voice cut through his protests like a blade. **"If you are not willing to dedicate yourself to training, then you will remain as you are—weak, pathetic, looked down upon by all. I will give you my guidance, Eric Chen, but only if you give me your effort. The choice is yours."**
Eric stood there, fists clenched, wanting to argue. But the dragon was right. What was three hours compared to five years of getting nowhere? What was pride compared to the memory of his mother's disappointed face?
He sat back down.
"Fine. Three hours."
The first hour was torture. Eric tried to clear his mind, tried to focus on his breathing like Master Tobias had taught him, but thoughts kept intruding. Worries about money, memories of Rorick's fists, the sensation of dying in that cave. His legs cramped. His back ached. Insects buzzed around his head.
The second hour was better. The discomfort faded into background noise as his breathing deepened. He could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. The forest sounds became clearer—birds singing, leaves rustling, the distant babble of a stream. He fell into a rhythm, his mind quieting.
The third hour, everything changed.
Eric's consciousness expanded outward like a ripple across still water. He could feel the life force of the forest—the trees drawing nutrients from the soil, the insects going about their frantic business, even the earthworms tunneling beneath him. And deeper, underlying it all, he felt something vast and powerful coiled within himself.
The dragon's presence.
Azure energy flowed through channels in his body he'd never known existed, burning away impurities, strengthening his foundation. He could see—no, sense—the pathways of qi, the meridians that proper cultivators used to circulate their power. His own meridians had been narrow, almost closed, choked with stagnant energy.
Now they were opening.
Power rushed through him like a flood breaking through a dam. His body grew hot, then cold, then hot again. Sweat poured down his face. Inside, something was changing, fundamentally restructuring itself.
When Eric finally opened his eyes, the sun was high overhead.
He'd been meditating for over five hours.
"No, no, no..." He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his basket. The herbs—he needed to collect herbs, or he'd have nothing to show for the day. His mother would worry. People would ask questions.
Eric rushed through the forest, gathering anything useful he could find—bluemoon flowers, silver root, healing moss. His hands moved faster than they ever had before, and he noticed with shock that he could spot the herbs more easily now, as if his senses had been sharpened.
But more than that, he felt different. Stronger. His legs didn't tire as quickly. His movements were more fluid, more precise. Even the basket felt lighter in his hands.
**"Do not celebrate yet, young heir,"** the dragon's voice rumbled in his mind, sensing his excitement. **"You have barely scratched the surface. You have just now broken through to the peak of Third Stage Body Refinement—something you should have achieved years ago. You are still pathetically weak compared to where you should be."**
The words should have stung, but Eric found himself grinning anyway as he raced back toward the village.
For the first time in five years, he'd made progress.
For the first time in his life, he felt the promise of something more than weakness.
It was a beginning.