Weylin watched his mother cook their breakfast. His sister Nayla ran down the stairs, jumping down the last two stairs.

  “Careful,” his mother chided softly, a smile pulling at her lips as Nayla hugged her waist.

  “Morning, Mom!”

  “Morning, my little squirrel.” She pinched her cheek.

  Nayla giggled. She snatched a small piece of cake and ran to the table, evading her mother’s half-hearted attempt to catch her. She sauntered to Weylin, a mischievous grin twisting her mouth. Weylin pretended not to see her. She launched herself into the air, intending to jump over his back. He turned and caught her mid-air. She dangled from the back of her clothes, a pout on her lips.

  “It’s not fair! I nearly won this time!”

  Weylin laughed. “Maybe next time.”

  She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Tomorrow, I’ll win for certain. You can see,” she challenged him.

  “Of course.” He grinned. While he could let her win in her little game, but where was the fun in that? He was but fulfilling his role of big brother, which was annoying his younger siblings. And he wasn’t one to step out of his obliged role.

  “Breakfast is ready!” his mother called.

  She put the plate of cakes on the table, and Weylin stood up to get the other utensils and cups. Soon enough, they were sitting at the table, eating his mother’s delicious cooking.

  He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had greatly missed the taste of her food. With every bite he took and every sip, moisture collected at the corner of his eyes. He had to blink furiously to stop the tears from gathering into a pool or, worse, spilling into his cheeks and worrying his mother.

  He felt like he had woken up from a long and terrible nightmare. Every time he tried to remember what he had dreamed about, he could feel a mounting headache threatening to split his head. After a while, he gave up. There was no need to strain himself into remembering a dream, and a nightmare at that.

  He looked up at his mother and sister. Indeed, everything was alright. There was no need to worry.

  After breakfast, he took his axe and readied himself for another day of work. Their family was poor, and with his father gone, it was up to him to take care of his mother and sister. He was a woodcutter just like his father before the war front had called upon him. It wasn’t anything glamorous, but it put food on the table. And with winter approaching, he would be able to sell the wood in record time. Maybe then he could train a bit.

  Despite everything, he didn’t forget about his dream of becoming a knight. It was all he had dreamed of since he had first seen that knight kill the invading monster with one strike. He remembered how he had stalked the poor knight, following him around town, mimicking his every move. The man had laughed and ruffled his hair.

  “You’ll make a good addition to the knight’s order,” he had said, smiling brightly at Weylin’s younger self.

  It was like life had finally smiled upon him and opened its welcoming and warm embrace to the poor child who couldn’t even afford a pair of footwear. No one had ever heard of a commoner becoming a knight. The knight’s words had ignited hope in Weylin’s heart. Since then, he would always train after finishing his work, way into the forest, hidden from any mocking eyes.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  His mother’s hands brought him back from his musing. She cradled his face, a sad smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Weylin. We trouble you so. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a couple of days. Then you can go and train properly. I heard the order’s entrance examination will be held soon.”

  Weylin startled at her words. “Of course not, Mother. You don’t have to worry about this. Cutting wood is as much training as swinging a sword is. It helps with my stamina.” He shook his head, her hands coming loose, then resting by her side. “I told you, don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.”

  He forced a smile on his face. He hated it when his mother apologized, as if everything was her fault. His father’s death. Her illness. Their poverty. None of this was her fault. His father had entrusted their family to him. If it was anyone’s fault, it was his own. He should do better. He should be better.

  He shouldered the pile of ropes. “I’ll be going then.”

  His mother hesitated before nodding.

  Not a couple steps away from the house, Nayla burst through the door, running to him. Weylin paused, waiting for her to reach him.

  “I wanna go with you!” she announced. “I can cut wood, too. I’m stronger than you!” She put her hands over her hip, head held high.

  Weylin laughed. “Of course you are.” he kneeled in front of her, his grin widening at the glare she shot him. She always hated being reminded of her height. “It’s because you’re strong, I will entrust an important task to you that no one but you can accomplish.”

  Her eyes shined, annoyance momentarily forgotten. “What is it?”

  “Watch over the house, and don’t let Mom strain herself.”

  She hesitated, her eyes scrutinizing him, looking for any tricks. It was amusing how she acted like a grownup when she barely reached his waist.

  With a determined look, she gave him a nod. “Understood. I’ll protect the house and Mom,” she added.

  There was nothing to protect the house or his mom from. While it was true, they were at the top of the mountain overlooking the town. But all the monsters were taken care of by the order. Weylin had never seen a single monster approach their town or their house. They were safe and protected from all harm due to the knights’ hard work and sacrifices.

  Weylin ruffled her hair. She squawked in indignation, putting her blonde strands of hair into order, or as much order as she could tame the wild hair into, which was none. He laughed.

  The whole day passed with arduous work. Weylin rested the axe on the ground, panting heavily to catch his breath. He wasn’t wrong. Cutting down trees truly helped with his stamina. The first tree he had cut had taken him the whole day. His small frame shook with every strike of the axe that was nearly half his height. The blisters had taken days to heal. He still remembered his mother’s heartbroken expression as she stood by the door each morning, watching him leave. He was different now. Now, he was able to tear down a tree in a couple of minutes with no strain.

  He sat down heavily and took a big gulp of the water skin, chasing any stray drop with his tongue. He took a bite of the piece of bread, leaving half of it for the evening. It was still half a day till his work for the day was done. It wouldn’t be wise to deplete all his food in one go. He had to ration.

  He rested his back on a tree trunk, his axe next to him. He didn’t notice when he closed his eyes. But soon, he was thrust into a dream—a nightmare.

  All around him was chaos. People were running, screaming. Monsters chased them, tore into them like a predator tore into its prey. Their jagged teeth pierced flesh like a knife cut into butter. It was horrible, more horrible than all the stories he had heard. The monsters were more terrifying, more bloodthirsty… more monstrous.

  He looked around, searching for his mother and sister, chest drowning in despair. Where were they? They were next to him not a moment ago. Where could they have gone in this chaos?

  One of the monsters lunged at him, its claws tearing into his shoulder. Then he startled awake. He jerked up, hunching over, his hand flying to the non-existent wound on his shoulder. He drew a shaky breath, feeling it rattle inside his chest.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity. As if he had already lived through this. But no, this wasn’t right.

  A chirp brought his attention to his lap, or more like, to what was in his lap.

  A small black creature looked up at him, head tilted to the side, eyes filled with a deep-seated curiosity. It looked at him, and he stared back, disbelieving.

  A dragon. It was a dragon.