Chapter Twenty-Three: Dragon Lord

  Ash opened his eyes, the luminous white flames dying around him like the fading embers in a fire pit. He blinked several times, waiting for his vision to clear. His body felt strangely weightless, as if he'd been floating in water for hours and had only just returned to solid ground.

  He stood in a large cavern of dark stone, its ceiling lost in shadows far above. The walls curved inward, forming a dome of polished rock that gleamed dully in the strange light that filled the chamber. "Is this a cave?" Ash thought, looking around with growing wonder. This didn't look like a man-made room, too perfect in its imperfection, too ancient in its feeling. There was no breeze in the room, the air completely still, but it smelled old, not unlike a graveyard, but with an edge, a depth he couldn't identify. Something primal, something that spoke to a part of him he hadn't known existed until this moment.

  Gem-lined alcoves set into the walls sent cascading multicolored light around the cavern, prismatic rainbows dancing across the stone floor. They pulsed with an inner light, as if they were alive, breathing in rhythm with some unseen heartbeat. Each alcove was different, unique in its construction, its gems glowing with a light that seemed to come from within rather than reflect from without.

  Shadows loomed where the light touched, not behaving as normal shadows should, stretching and withdrawing as if they were sentient, curious about the intruder in their domain. Ash felt a prickle of unease as he watched them move, almost independently of the light that cast them.

  Before him were steps that led downward into a substantial oval dip, as if someone had perfectly carved into the stone with tools of impossible precision. The steps were worn in their centers, testament to countless feet that had tread this path before him, though the cavern felt as if it had been sealed for centuries.

  The bottom of the depression was littered with giant bones that jutted out like great tree limbs that had fallen in the forest. They gleamed ivory in the colored light, aged but not decayed, preserved by some power Ash couldn't begin to comprehend. A vast, angular skull with horns curling from it rested in the middle, its empty eye sockets seeming to stare directly at him, seeing beyond flesh to the soul within.

  "Once, she was one of the great dragons, Adomyra. Loosely translated, the name means 'brightness.'"

  Amalia suddenly appeared, walking forward from a shadowed alcove Ash hadn't noticed. Her steps were measured, reverent even, as she approached the massive skull. She laid a hand against the bone with a gentleness he'd never seen from her before, and Ash's jaw dropped as he saw her face. Amalia looked... sad. Not just the cold, distant melancholy she sometimes exhibited, but genuinely, deeply sad, as if touching the skull connected her to a profound loss.

  She was showing real, genuine emotion! The sight was so unexpected, so contrary to everything he thought he knew about her, that for a moment he forgot where he was, what had just happened.

  "What is this place?" he demanded, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "Was that a dream I just had? What is going on, Amalia!" The questions tumbled from him, each one louder than the last, his confusion and frustration finally boiling over after weeks of half-answers and cryptic statements.

  She didn't answer at first, her hand still resting on the ancient skull, her eyes closed as if in silent communion with the long-dead creature. When she finally turned to face him moments later, her expression was guarded once more, though not quite as impenetrable as usual.

  "I can't tell you everything, Ash," she began, and when he opened his mouth to protest, she quickly added, "No, please listen," holding up a hand to forestall his objections.

  "Did... she say please?" Ash snapped his mouth closed as the thought echoed in his head. In all the time he'd known her, he couldn't recall Amalia ever saying please, ever showing even that small courtesy that most people extended without thinking.

  "My condition still stands to a degree," she continued, watching him closely. "You will need to reach bronze rank. Some oaths bind me, and I must honor them." Her voice held a note of regret, though whether it was regret for the oaths themselves or for having to enforce them, Ash couldn't tell.

  He frowned at her, crossing his arms defensively across his chest, the familiar frustration rising within him. "Why don't you just say that? Do you know how much frustration it would have saved us if you had, you know, acted like a reasonable person?" The accusation hung in the air between them, sharp and pointed.

  "I'm not in the habit of explaining myself, Master Lorcan," she replied, the formality a shield against his anger. "I am only doing so now because it is safe to do so. Before I explain anything, I must insist that you agree to repeat nothing about what is said here. Anything I reveal here, anything at all, you must not, under any circumstances, tell anyone." Her violet eyes bored into his, intense and unyielding.

  "Why the need?" Ash asked, genuinely curious despite his irritation. What could be so dangerous about the truth that it had to be guarded so carefully?

  Amalia shook her head, her grip tightening on her staff. "You must swear it, or I will not tell you anything, and what I can share is limited even with your oath." The staff gleamed in the colored light, the strange markings upon it seeming to shift and change as if responding to her mood.

  Ash sucked in a slow breath, letting it out in a steady stream. Here he was, about to get some answers, and those answers still had conditions. Like with everything else, he had little choice but to agree. He felt like a cornered rat with no options, forced to dance to someone else's tune, never given the freedom to make his own choices.

  For a moment he thought about saying no. Walking away from it all, so that he could have a semblance of control over his own fate. It was a brief, rebellious impulse, quickly squashed by practical reality. Walking away now would leave him with nothing but questions and the same frustration that had plagued him for weeks.

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  "Fine," he said, the word bitter on his tongue. "You win again, Amalia. I so swear." The oath felt heavy, binding, as if it were more than mere words.

  She nodded, her grip relaxing on her staff as if she'd been genuinely concerned he might refuse. "You asked where we are. This is Adomyra's and her mate's nest. It was here that the dragon lords kept dragon eggs. The night Drakosia was burned to the ground, Adomyra and her dragon lord gave their lives to seal this place in a num'ensura or a separate world you might call it. They locked it behind a seal that would test any future dragon lords that attempted to get in."

  Ash blinked, uncrossing his arms as he stared at her, the implications of her words slowly sinking in. "Are you saying...?" He couldn't even finish the question, the possibility too overwhelming to articulate.

  Amalia nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I am. You, Ash Lorcan, are a dragon lord."

  The words hit him like a physical blow. Ash sat down hard on the stone floor, wrapping his hands around his knees, trying to process what he'd just been told. It couldn't be true. It made no sense. Dragon lords were figures from history, from legends, not farm boys from nowhere.

  "What does that even mean? How? I'm human, look!" He thrust out his arm toward Amalia, as if the sight of his ordinary human flesh would disprove her claim. His skin was pale, marked with the callouses and small scars of farm work, nothing special, nothing extraordinary.

  "No, I'm afraid you are not," she said softly, not unkindly. "Not in the way you are thinking."

  Ash bowed his head, the weight of her words crushing down on him. He wasn't human. Or at least, not entirely human. Everything he thought he knew about himself, about his identity, was thrown into question. The foundations of his world were crumbling beneath him, leaving him adrift in an ocean of uncertainty.

  He had never known his parents and had always been told they had died in a horrible accident. Was that even true? Had his aunt and uncle known? Had they been keeping this from him his entire life?

  "My parents," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did you know them?"

  Amalia hesitated, indecision flickering across her face for just a moment before it was gone. "I cannot say. That is not knowledge I can reveal just yet." Her voice was gentle but firm, brooking no argument.

  "What can you tell me?" Ash said, not even attempting to keep the bitter cold from his voice. He was tired of half-truths, of being fed information in tiny morsels, never enough to satisfy his hunger for understanding.

  Amalia twisted her staff, and the end of it was digging into the stone, leaving a small mark. A sign of her own internal struggle, perhaps. "Dragon lords cannot access their elar without a dragon. I've told you that much. Dragon and lord are inseparable partners, with a nearly indescribable bond."

  She looked at the great bone dragon head, her eyes shadowed with memories. "They were protectors, defenders against the shadow. They fought monsters, and soared the skies on dragon back. They built Drakosia, a great city that welcomed and defended everyone."

  Amalia looked up, her eyes distant, seeing something beyond the confines of the cavern, perhaps beyond the present moment entirely. "It was the greatest ideal your mortal cities could strive for. People respected everyone, even if they weren't always kind, and all religions were permitted to be practiced, so long as they did not seek to harm anyone. Fairness was strived for, and there was a connection here, to the land, to each other."

  The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and Ash found himself wondering not for the first time who exactly Amalia was, what her connection to all of this might be. She spoke of Drakosia as if she had seen it with her own eyes, though that should have been impossible given when it fell.

  Amalia bowed her head before sighing, the sound echoing softly in the chamber. "Drakosia burned brightly, but its flame was snuffed out by darkness. Dragon lords were slaughtered that night, betrayed and torn apart by shadow. But somehow, one survived," Amalia set her gaze on him, intense and unwavering. "You. You, Ash Lorcan, can be a blade of light against the shadow. The sun shining bright in the dark of night."

  Ash shook his head against his knees, overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility her words placed upon him. He was just Ash, just a farm boy who had lost everything. How could he possibly live up to such expectations?

  "How?" he asked, voice muffled. "I need a dragon. I don't see one around here." He gestured at the cavern, at the ancient bones, the remnants of a civilization long gone.

  Amalia laughed, a sound of genuine amusement that startled him. She gestured expansively at the alcoves that lined the walls. "Look closely, Master Lorcan."

  He did, really looked this time, beyond the surface beauty of the colored light, beyond the first impression of precious gems. And in that moment of truly seeing, understanding dawned.

  The gem stones were not gems at all.

  They were dragon eggs.

  Each alcove held one, each egg unique in color and pattern, each pulsing with that inner light he had noticed before. They were alive, waiting, dormant but not dead, preserved through the years by the power that had sealed this place.

  Amalia smiled widely, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at his reaction. "Now all you must do is allow one to choose you. Come, Ash Lorcan. It is time for you to embrace who you are."

  The words sent a thrill through him, equal parts terror and exhilaration. To be chosen by a dragon, to form that bond Amalia had spoken of, to become truly what he was meant to be... the possibility was overwhelming.

  Ash stood before a red dragon egg, drawn to it first among all the others. It was beautiful, almost hypnotic in its perfection. Each individual scale looked like it was meticulously carved into a large, oval ruby. Every shade of red swirled within it, from the palest pink to the deepest crimson, pulsing from it like a heartbeat, as if the dragon within was reaching out, trying to communicate.

  "Place your palm upon it," Amalia said, watching him carefully.

  He reached out, hesitant at first, then more confident. His hand made contact with the smooth surface of the egg, warmer than he expected. Warmth spread through his fingers, pleasant at first, then intensifying, growing hotter and hotter until it became a tide of searing heat that caused Ash to jerk his hand back with a gasp, shaking it vigorously in the air. He looked down at his hand, searching for the burns that surely must be there after such intense heat.

  He found none. His skin was unmarked, though the memory of that burning sensation lingered.

  "A rejection," Amalia said calmly, unsurprised. "Not unexpected. Try another."

  In its own alcove, a green egg sat, glowing with an inner light that reminded Ash of sunlight filtering through forest leaves. Much like the ruby egg, this one was emerald, its scales a thousand different shades of green, from the palest jade to the deepest forest. Instead of a feeling of heat, when he touched it, he felt like he was sinking his hand into soft earth, cool and yielding.

  Suddenly, the sensation changed. The earth hardened, compacted, and a jagged spike of rock pierced his hand.

  He cried out, pulling his hand back, eyes wide with shock and pain. But once again, when he examined his hand, there was no physical wound. No hole was gaping in his palm. He was fine, though the phantom pain continued to pulse through his hand for several moments.

  One by one he tried each egg, each one evoking a feeling from nature when he touched it. One felt like he was plunging his hand into icy water, another like he was caught in a whirlwind, another like he was touching lightning itself.

  Each rejected him one after the other, sending him painful sensations that vanished as soon as he broke contact, leaving no physical mark but shaking him nonetheless.

  The second to last egg was dark amethyst in color, not unlike the color of Amalia's eyes, but much more pronounced, deeper, more vibrant. It pulsed with a rhythm that seemed to match his heartbeat, as if it had been waiting specifically for him.

  The feeling this one provoked when he touched it was unlike any of the other eggs. It was wondrous, mystical, like immersing yourself in a good book as you lay by the fire on a cold winter's night. There was a sense of rightness to it, of coming home after a long journey.

  Instead of sudden pain, he felt a searching probe of thought, gentle but thorough, as if the creature within the egg was examining him, evaluating him, judging his worth.

  Then came a nuzzling sensation, like a cat pushing its warm furry head against his hand, seeking affection. A feeling of acceptance, of connection, of belonging washed over him, filling a void he hadn't even known existed within him.

  Suddenly, his mind was lit ablaze as if someone had set a match to kindling. Light and heat and knowledge poured into him, too much, too fast, overwhelming his senses, his consciousness, his very being.

  Ash knew no more, falling into darkness as the connection was forged, a bond that would change everything, forever.