The first blow knocked the breath from Kai's lungs.
He hit the dirt hard, his cheek scraping against frozen mud as laughter burst around him. Boots circled close, too close. He curled instinctively, arms tight around his ribs, but another kick slipped through, sharp and precise. Someone knew where to aim.
"Get up," a voice barked. "The warlord doesn't pay us to play with trash."
Kai coughed, tasting iron. He forced his eyes open and saw the village square through a blur of lean houses hunched like beggars against the cold, the old well cracked and dry, and the banner of Ironhold hanging crooked from the watch post. The black sigil stamped on it caught the light: a sword piercing a dragon skull.
The Ironclad Emperor's mark.
"Please," Kai said hoarsely. He hated the word, but it slipped out anyway.
That earned him another kick.
"You hear that?" one of the enforcers laughed. "The rat can talk."
They were men grown fat on borrowed authority, leather armor patched and scarred, and blades dulled from more intimidation than battle. Loyal to the local warlord, who in turn was loyal to Ironhold. To Emperor Vortigern.
Loyalty flowed upward. Pain flowed down.
"Books again?" the leader said, nudging Kai's satchel with his toe. The clasp snapped, and scraps of parchment spilled across the mud: half-burned scrolls, broken margins, and hand-copied notes scavenged from ruins and refuse. Worthless to everyone else.
The man crouched, lifting one page between two fingers as if it might stain him. "What's this? Fairy tales?"
Kai didn't answer. He watched the page tear in half.
"Enough," another voice muttered.
Old Mereth stood at the edge of the square, wrapped in threadbare gray, leaning on a cane worn smooth by years. Other elders lingered behind him, faces carved by hunger and fear. They never stepped closer.
The leader straightened. "Problem?"
Mereth shook his head slowly. "You've made your point."
The enforcer snorted. "Our point is Ironhold's point. The Emperor doesn't like unrest. Or… curiosities."
His gaze flicked to Kai.
"Leave him," Mereth said quietly. "He's just a boy."
That was when the leader smiled.
"Exactly."
The kick that followed sent Kai sprawling again. Something cracked, maybe a rib, maybe pride. He didn't wait to find out.
He ran.
Shouts erupted behind him. Kai tore through the narrow lanes, past sagging doors and shuttered windows that stayed firmly closed. No one reached for him. No one tried to stop the enforcers.
He burst from the village edge and into the open fields, breath ripping from his chest in ragged pulls. Cold air burned his throat. Behind him, boots thundered.
"Don't let him reach the woods!"
The Whisperwoods loomed ahead, dark, tangled, and wrong. Even in daylight, shadows clung too thickly between the trees. Old warning stakes ringed the forest edge, their carvings worn down by time.
TURN BACK.
Everyone knew the stories.
Kai crossed the boundary anyway.
Branches clawed at him as soon as he entered, snagging clothes and tearing skin. The light dimmed unnaturally fast, swallowed by dense canopies and drifting mist. The air changed cooler, heavier, carrying a scent like wet stone and ash.
His legs burned. His vision swam.
Behind him, the enforcers hesitated.
"Wait," one shouted. "We don't go in there."
The leader cursed. "Cowards. He's just a boy."
But even he slowed.
The Whisperwoods whispered back.
Kai stumbled downhill, roots rising like traps beneath his feet. A hand grazed his cloak close enough that panic flared bright and wild. He twisted, lost his footing, and tumbled down a steep embankment.
The world flipped.
He crashed through brush and darkness before slamming into something cold and hard. Water splashed up around him. Pain blossomed everywhere at once and then nothing.
For a long moment, there was only breath. Shallow. Uneven.
Rain dripped somewhere above. The air smelled old.
Kai forced his eyes open.
He lay in a shallow grotto, half-submerged in a pool fed by trickling stone veins. The forest noise felt distant here, muffled, as if the world had drawn a curtain.
He tried to move. Fire lanced through his side. He bit down on a cry and lay still.
That was when he heard it.
A sound like breath, ragged, uneven, not his own.
Kai's heart slammed against his ribs. He pushed himself up on trembling arms and peered into the cavern's depths.
Something lay there.
At first, he thought it was a shadow cast wrong too solid, too shaped. Then it shifted.
A small wing twitched, dragging against stone. Scales caught what little light filtered in, not shining but drinking it in, black layered with deep ember-red veins, like dying coals beneath ash. An arrow jutted from its side, fletching soaked dark.
Kai froze.
A dragon.
Not too small. Barely the size of a large hound, its body curled tight, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Its head lifted weakly, and eyes opened.
Gold, dimmed by pain.
They locked onto Kai.
Every story he'd ever read screamed at him to run. Dragons were monsters. Calamities. Dead.
That's what the elders said, huddled close to dying fires on long nights.
"Vortigern slew the last of them," they whispered. "Broke the Dragon King with his own hands. Forged the Voidbane blade from its bones. There are no dragons left."
The Ironclad Emperor. Savior. Slayer.
The creature before him shuddered, a low hiss rattling in its throat. Shadows stirred around it, deepening, as if the darkness itself responded to its pain.
Kai swallowed.
"I won't," he said, not sure who he was speaking to. "I won't hurt you."
The dragon's gaze didn't soften. But it didn't strike either.
Kai inched closer, ignoring the agony in his side. He saw the arrowhead clearly now, an imperial make. Clean. Purposeful.
They'd hunted this.
A realization settled cold in his chest.
The dragon's breath hitched. Its head sagged, striking stone with a dull sound.
Kai didn't think. He dropped beside it, hands already moving, fingers slick with mud and blood as he reached for the arrow.
"Stay still," he whispered, voice shaking. "Please."
The shadows around the dragon thickened, coiling like living things.
Far above, muffled by stone and distance, a voice shouted his name.
The enforcers hadn't given up.
Kai gripped the arrow and pulled.
The dragon screamed.
Darkness surged.
And somewhere deep in the Whisperwoods, something ancient stirred, answering a bond that should not exist.
They said dragons were dead.
They were wrong.