The smoke thinned by morning.
The sea was gray and restless.
The boy stood in the center of the ruined colony with the small dragon perched on his shoulder.
The creature's wings twitched, adjusting to the wind. Its violet veins pulsed faintly beneath black scales.
People were watching from a distance.
Whispering.
Not approaching.
He walked toward his father's body.
No one stopped him.
No one helped.
He knelt beside the old fisherman and closed his father's eyes.
The dragon shifted, sensing his grief. A soft heat radiated from it.
For a moment, he forgot the others existed.
Until a stone struck the ground near his feet.
He looked up.
A woman stood near the well, face pale, hands shaking.
"You brought this," she said.
He blinked. "I—"
Another voice cut in.
"They came for him."
More murmurs rose.
"They were searching."
"They knew."
"They called him cursed."
The words spread like rot.
The boy stood slowly.
"I didn't ask for this," he said quietly.
"You didn't ask?" a man spat. "My brother is dead."
"So is my father."
Silence.
The dragon lifted its head and hissed softly.
That made it worse.
People stepped back.
Fear thickened the air.
"You must leave," someone said.
Not angry.
Terrified.
"You cannot stay."
The boy looked around.
At the broken huts.
At the people he had grown up beside.
None met his eyes.
Not with warmth.
Only suspicion.
He understood then.
Miracles do not erase fear.
They sharpen it.
The dragon's claws tightened gently on his shoulder.
Its golden eyes scanned the crowd, unblinking.
The boy took one last look at the sea.
At the boat he had pushed every morning.
At the life that had ended in fire.
He bent, lifted his father's body, and carried him toward the black cliffs overlooking the water.
No one followed.
He built the funeral pyre alone.
The dragon watched silently.
When he lit it, the flame rose steady and clean.
No violet.
Just fire.
He stood until only ash remained.
Then he turned away from the colony.
No farewell.
No curse.
Only quiet footsteps against stone.
Behind him, whispers followed like ghosts.
Ahead of him—
the road.
And the dragon shifted its wings, as if ready.
Far beneath ancient roots across the sea—
something smiled.
The game had begun.