It had been twelve years since the fire had consumed Vaelridge. The seasons changed, the kingdoms rose again, and the world moved on, with only distant whispers of a village long forgotten, in the hills of Firya. Except for Edran, the fire had never died out. Even if they still scorched hot beneath his skin. His face had been worn thin by time, his shoulders broadened but the heaviness of that night hung so heavily on each step, they were weighed down by lead. He wore it now as the only legacy he possessed from that sister of his, long since gone, tattered but beloved. Every morning he tied it tight before buckling on his father's sword. It wasn't fancy, just a good, sturdy blade, but it meant something. Memory. Duty.
Before him rose Greimdall, as it had when he was a child. The banners remained above the walls and the guards still stood proud in their polished armor. His heart leaped even as he looked. There was an adolescent flicker once more. No matter what he'd already seen, he'd lost, this place still haunted him. He still had faith in the mettle of its soldiers.
The square was filled with the sound of excited voices and clattering armor. Young men and women packed the line under white-stone arches. Behind a wooden desk in the front, the next soldiers recorded names next to Greimdall's fallen monument with a duo of the armed guards.
And when his time arrived, Edran strode up to a table, at which two soldiers sat, writing names in a register.
"Name?" asked the older one, not raising his eyes.
"Edran," he said, his voice steady.
"Previous service?"
"No," Edran said, "but I've hunted and trained."
The younger soldier glanced up with an arched brow. "Hunted?"
Edran nodded. "Monsters. Daenoboars. Thornbacks. "Near the southern ridge ...?"
Finally, the first soldier looked up. "And dragons?"
Edran hesitated. "Not yet."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of the man's mouth. "Then you've got a long road ahead," the man said, his tone cooling. "New policy. Applicants need to prove they've got what it takes, a hundred dragonkin kills. Minimum."
Edran blinked. "A hundred?"
"That's right," the younger one chimed in, this time without sarcasm. "Your best chance is with the Guild. Prove yourself there, and maybe we'll see you again."
Edran stepped back, stunned. This wasn't a challenge, it was a death sentence. He'd expected trials, but not this. Not a number carved in blood. Still, His fists tightened at his sides. This wasn't what he'd expected, but fine. He'd play their game. Whatever it took.
-break-
Situated on the deteriorating outskirts of Greimdall's outer district, the Hunter's Guild resembled a tavern that had developed armor over time rather than a barracks of glory. A pair of broken swords hung above the entrance like forgotten relics, but there were also cracked stone walls, faded banners with broken sigils of previous conquests, and wooden beams darkened by smoke and time with dragonkin skulls lined as trophies.
The stench of blood, fire oil, old ale, and sweat greeted Edran as he entered. Voices, laughter, and slurs packed the air. covered in leathers soaked in swamp water, Zcyrt'eks whispered in their guttural tongue. The loud voices of lycans rose above the commotion as they arm wrestled and laughed over mugs of frothy ale. While Goblins weighed bags of gold and boasted about their latest finds, Adanels sharpened blades in practiced silence. Two Turocs pounded the table proudly as they compared their battle scars in the far corner. Edran had once envisioned a disciplined military hall, but this was not it. It was barely controlled chaos.
The Guild's ranks were obvious: Copper was at the bottom, followed by Iron, Silver, Myr, Keslite, Orocalcum, and finally Dragon, the rarest rank that could only be attained by those who killed an elder dragon by themselves. Iron was never climbed by most. Most people who did didn't survive for very long.
Edran walked to the front desk where a woman sat, a sharp-eyed Adanel with streaks of gray in her braid. Her uniform was faded, her expression bored but knowing. She raised an eyebrow.
"New blood?" she asked without looking up from her parchment.
Edran gave a short nod. "I want to register."
She slid a form across the desk, where Edran wrote his name. Then stamped a bronze-colored badge with a seal. "Copper rank. Means you're green. Small contracts only until you prove yourself."
Edran examined the badge, its edges worn smooth by countless hands.
"What about climbing ranks?" Edran asked
"Slay enough dragonkin, take harder quests, or get invited by a higher-ranked party. You want to go fast? Find someone reckless." Then She leaned back, eyeing him again. "You're not the first wide-eyed kid with a sword. Most last a week."
Edran remained silent. He just turned to face the quest board, pocketed the badge, and nodded. There was clutter on the wall. Some of the overlapping parchments were so old that the ink had bled. Beast hunts, escort missions, and bounty. A wyvern seen close to the Drakelands Bridge was depicted on one poster. Outside of Firya, another warned of a Grok migration. Edran looked at them, not knowing where to start.
"Hi, copper! Looking disoriented. From behind, a voice called out. Edran turned.
A lion-like Lycan with broad chests, a short black mane, and a scar cutting through his feline muzzle towered over him. An old scarf crossed over his jaw and looped around his neck. A silver earring glinted in the mischievous gleam of his brilliant yellow eyes. His leather armor was worn from innumerable battles and was scuffed and burned. Long, sharp teeth flashed under the snout's curve as he smiled.
Edran stood still. "Just reading."
The Lycan chuckled. "You read like you fight? Slow and cautious?"
A smooth, playful voice added its voice. A tall, charming Adanel woman stepped forward, her long red hair cascading like fire over her shoulders. Her leather ensemble, which featured reinforced seams and silver buckles, was sophisticated yet obviously designed for mobility. She had several polished and lethal blades strapped across her belt, boots, and thighs. Despite her easygoing demeanor, her eyes were alert and constantly on guard. Charming and dangerous in equal measure, her smirk could cut your throat more cleanly than any of her daggers.
She eyed him across the room before saying, "We're looking for someone to join a quest." "More muscle. Are you intrigued?
Edran hesitated. "Depends. What rank are you?"
The Lycan grinned wider. "Myr. She's Keslite."
Edran gave him a perplexed look. "So, why do you require a copper?"
The woman answered, "Because we're not looking for a hero." "We need someone who can carry a few items for us at a low cost while we do the difficult part, And maybe take a few hits.
Edran frowned. "What's the contract?"
"Big one," the Lycan uttered. Gorthrax, the elder dragon. Have you heard of it?
His blood froze. "Gorthax the hoarder? That's… that's a high-ranking quest."
His blood turned to ice. "The hoarder, Gorthax? That is a high-ranking quest.
The woman added, "you're right," and pointed to the front desk. However, our captain is... convincing. He is liked by the clerk.
Edran narrowed his eyes and said, "Still." "Looks dangerous."
The Lycan tapped Edran's sword hilt after saying, "You'll get your share." "In addition, you seem capable of taking care of yourself."
After a moment of studying him, the woman spoke in a sharp, a little moody voice, impatient but not rude. "Are you interested in joining?"
Indeed! Edran quickly replied, "If you'll have me," hoping that this would be his opportunity to quickly ascend to his objective.
The Lycan snorted. "Feisty! I like him."
She rolled her eyes. "The decisions are made by our captain. He enjoys testing out new hires. Let's go outside. Look at what you have.
She pivoted and began to move. The Lycan gave the door a nod. "Come on, Copper. Time to prove that pretty blade isn't just for show."
Edran tightened his hold on his father's sword and followed them to the exit.
-break-
The Guild backyard was illuminated by the golden rays of the afternoon sun, but there was still a shadow in one corner, beneath a crooked tree, where a man was leaning against the trunk with his arms folded. His armor was dull, with shallow cuts and lines of dried scorch. A mouth set in a weary half-grin was framed by a black goatee. A short, frayed cloak hung over one shoulder.
As soon as Edran entered the yard, his gaze was fixed on him.
"So," said the man. "This is the Copper you picked?"
The Lycan gave a shrug. It looks like that he could stay for more than a week.
Edran tilted a puzzled head. "What is the test?"
The man moved into the light, away from the tree. Although he was silent, the atmosphere around him grew tense. He pulled out his sword and lunged without saying anything.
Edran barely had time to respond. Like thunder in a summer storm, steel met steel.
Edran's reflexes took over when the first blow came too quickly for a casual test. He changed position, made a clean parry, and slid sideways. He blocked another low strike and then countered with a precise arc of his blade. With measured steps and growing tension, they circled each other. Steel singing its battle hymn, their swords clashed once more with a ringing, sharp cry.
The man's gaze then landed on something, just along Edran's weapon's hilt, in the middle of the motion. Etchings that are worn. steel that is balanced. Just one name, delicately carved: Daina.
The man stopped, taking a step back and furrowing his brow.
He whispered, "Fine blade."
Edran nodded slightly, still gasping for air. "My dad made it."
The man didn't say anything more. Only a slow nod. With his sword sheathed, he moved forward and extended a hand. "Corven. Keslite status. This group of misfits is led by me. You're in.
Still tense, Edran blinked before lowering his blade gradually. Like dust, the moment settled over him. That was a test of resolve as much as reflexes.
Corven went on, Had to be certain. At dawn, we depart for the Drakelands. Are you prepared?
Edran gave a nod. "I'm prepared."
Corven tilted his head back to Edran. "Come on. It's time to get to know the wonderful company you just joined.
First, he nodded to the Lycan, who gave him a toothy smile and puffed up his chest.
That's Vex. Myr's rank. Scout, tracker, and loudest person in the room.
"Do not forget 'charming,'" Vex continued, grinning and showing off a silver earring.
Then Corven pointed to the red-haired woman who was twirling a dagger between her fingers as she leaned against the fence.
"Kaela. Keslite. Poisons, blades, and more attitude than common sense.
Kaela made a lovely simulated bow. "Destructively beautiful is something you forgot to mention."
A massive figure that resembled a boulder stood behind them.
Tharn is the major one. Turoc. One more Keslite. He hits hard, but he doesn't say much.
Tharn cracked his knuckles and grunted in agreement. "Words waste breath."
"And Nibbs is over there," Corven continued, nodding toward a squat figure tinkering with a trap close to the wall. Goblin. Myr's rank. Don't trust him near your coin pouch because he is aware of every trap in the book.
"Hi!" Without looking up, Nibbs barked. "That only happened once!"
Corven laughed a little. "All right. Take a nap. At first light, we depart.
The group started to disperse, with Tharn stumbling silently off toward the barracks, Vex stretching with a yawn, and Kaela tossing a dagger back into her belt. Edran was the only one left.
He glanced down at the worn edge of the copper badge he was holding, which was catching the last of the sun's rays. His fingers first went to his sword's hilt, then to the tattered bracelet that was fastened to his wrist. It had been twelve years since the fire. Finally, he was making progress. The hunt and his quest for his dream would start tomorrow.
-Break-
Edran stepped out into the clear morning air behind the guild at dawn the following day before leaving. He saw Corven quietly passing a small, heavy pouch to the front desk clerk from the previous day in the quiet alley by the rear entrance. She quickly concealed the pouch in her robes after taking a cautious look around. Edran squinted but said nothing.
Soon after, the group left. The eastern stone bridge, one of only two known entry points into the Drakelands, is where they left Firya. The stone arches' bases were covered in mist, and the bridge itself was adorned with long-forgotten, faded runes.
The atmosphere instantly changed as they stepped through the threshold. The morning sun became dulled by an unnatural haze, and the air became heavier. Once-green hills now blazed in shades of deep amber and rust. Mountains rose in the distance like ancient sentinels, their peaks crowned with brooding storm clouds, and forests stretched like woven tapestries over the valleys. The land had a harsh beauty. But something stirred beneath the awe. The feeling of being watched hung over Edran like a shadow he couldn't escape, but he was unable to explain it.
The skies became agitated by the third day.
A raw, unnatural shriek echoed across the hills like a herald of violence, tearing through the air.
Vex snarled, already grabbing his bow, "Above!"
A red wyvern with molten scales erupted from the clouds. Huge wings cut like blades through the sky, creating turbulence with each beat. Smoke curled from its snarling jaws, and its arched tail bristled with hooked spikes, each breath tinged with ash and heat.
Corven remained unflinching. His cool voice pierced the growing tension as he turned to Edran. "It's your turn, Copper. Let's see what you're capable of. Don't worry, if you get cooked, we'll take over."
The wyvern arrived quickly.
Its talons ripped through the ground where Edran had stood a heartbeat earlier, and he rolled aside. With its mouth blazing with molten light, the beast banked hard and wheeled in the air.
Vex whimpered, "He's going to get roasted."
The wyvern let out a roar and sent a fiery ball of fire straight at Edran.
With a swift movement, Edran's sword changed into a glowing shield, causing light to radiate from its center. He planted his feet in the charred ground, bracing himself.
Half in wonder, Kaela's voice rose. "That's not just iron… That's Keslite."
A wave of flames crashed into the shield. Edran remained steadfast despite the air around him being bent by the heat that rippled outward. The shield held.
The wyvern lunged for the kill as the fire subsided, but Edran fell to the ground, allowing the beast to soar above him. With a single motion, Edran struck the wyvern's throat with the shield's edge and transformed back into a blade, piercing the creature's throat.
After giving a single shriek, the wyvern smashed the ground with force, causing dust and sparks to fly everywhere.
Corven moved slowly closer, his gaze focused on the downed wyvern. His voice was low and slightly appreciative as he said, "Well done." "First dragonkin to be killed." "Not too bad."
Slowly, the others gathered. Their eyes were focused on the sword that was still shining in Edran's hands rather than the beast.
With a sharp whistle, Vex whispered, "Keslite." Passed off as iron? That is uncommon.
Edran held his breath, not sure if he should say anything. His bones continued to hum with the heat of the battle. But nobody asked him any more questions. Not just yet.
Corven nodded briefly. "Let's keep moving you lot."
The smoldering corpse was left behind, and the only sound in the ensuing silence was the sound of boots on cracked stone. The land around them became stranger and quieter as the hours went by. The sky grew drab. The air was heavy with the stench of sulfur as the trail wound between rocky ridges and smoldering cracks.
They discovered a tall outcrop by late afternoon. A cliff-face, etched by enormous claw marks and dotted with faded glyphs that had been partially consumed by time and moss, loomed beyond it.
Corven stopped and held up a hand. He referred to it as "Mida's Grotto." "Gorthrax's home."
Kaela grinned, anticipation shining in her eyes. "The real fun starts now."
Tharn grunted and sniffed the air. "Gold smells close."
Edran remained silent. His hand touched Daina's bracelet, which was on his wrist. He ground himself and tied it tighter, even though the threads were worn.
As a boy, he had heard the stories. Taken from kingdoms that no longer existed, Gorthrax was a beast whose wings darkened the skies, whose breath melted stone, and whose lair was bathed in gold. And yet here he was.
Wide, ancient, and breathing with a silent fear, the cave mouth loomed ahead. Out of the darkness came a gust of warm air that smelled of something older and ash.
Edran's heart pounded as he slowly exhaled. With one foot in the shadow, he took a step forward. He would confront whatever awaited him within.
For her, not just for the hunt.