SHARED DESTINY
The village of Eldrion awoke to the choir of birds and the gentle whisper of a morning breeze, promising another day of deceptive peace. But for Zyrion, the calm felt like a thin veil hiding a growing unease. He walked down the narrow path toward the market, the small dragon figurine he'd bought the day before peeking out of his pocket—a tiny, wooden reminder that his life was shifting in ways he couldn't yet grasp.
Halfway there, he spotted Kyrahna. She was crouched beside a patch of wildflowers, carefully gathering a bouquet. She looked completely absorbed, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Kyrahna!" Zyrion called out, flashing his signature carefree grin. "What's the plan? Decorating the entire village, or is this part of some mysterious plot I should know about?"
She looked up, her expression softening into a smile. "Good morning, Zyrion. I'm picking flowers for Starfall Night. These have a special fragrance—I thought they'd be perfect for the plaza."
Zyrion crouched beside her, inhaling the scent. "They do smell good… but my plan is much simpler: find food, find a blanket, and try not to fall asleep before the stars actually start falling."
Kyrahna let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You're hopeless. But if you're so free today, how about exploring something different? I heard rumors of an ancient shrine to the north. They say it has a connection to the dragons."
"Dragons?" Curiosity instantly lit up Zyrion's eyes. "Okay, that sounds like an epic adventure… though probably a dangerous one."
"Since when do you care about safety?" she teased, standing up. "Besides, I'm not going alone. You're coming with me, right?"
"Of course. If there are dragons involved, someone has to make bad jokes while you do the fighting."
Their laughter echoed through the trees as they ventured into the forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating shifting patterns of gold and green. But as they pressed deeper, the atmosphere shifted. The birds went silent, and an unsettling, heavy stillness settled over the woods.
After hours of trekking, they reached the crest of a hill where the ruined shrine stood. Fallen pillars, weather-worn dragon statues, and a moss-covered altar hinted at a history long buried by time.
"This is incredible," Zyrion murmured, his hand brushing against a broken stone wing. "I can't believe something this majestic has been sitting here all along."
Kyrahna approached the central altar, tracing the worn carvings with her fingers. "These symbols… it's ancient script. Can you read any of it?"
"I'd need more than my basic lessons for this," Zyrion admitted with a sigh. He leaned against a half-buried pillar, only to feel something hard and metallic beneath the dirt. "Wait… look at this!"
Together, they unearthed a small metal box, sealed with a strange, intricate mechanism. It resisted Zyrion's attempts for several minutes, much to Kyrahna's amusement.
"Problem-solving expert, are you?" she said with a smirk as he grunted in frustration.
Finally, the mechanism clicked. The box fell open, revealing a glowing crystal and a weathered roll of parchment. The crystal pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light, as if it were breathing.
"This is… impossible," Kyrahna whispered, unrolling the parchment. Her face went pale as her eyes scanned the lines. "'Whoever discovers this shrine and claims the crystal has been chosen to carry the legacy of the dragons.'" Her voice dropped to a hush.
Zyrion stared at the pulsing crystal, then at her. "Chosen? I'm not sure I'm ready to be the protagonist of a story like this, Kyrahna."
"Zyrion…" Her tone was more serious than he had ever heard it. "This isn't just a rock. This crystal has a purpose. And I think it called to us."
The walk back to Eldrion felt different. The forest no longer felt empty; it felt as if it were watching them with a thousand silent eyes.
They went straight to Dervan, the village elder known for his hoard of scrolls and ancient legends. His small cabin smelled of old paper and incense.
"Well, young ones," Dervan greeted them, "what brings you here? Curiosity? Or a hunger for my honey cookies?"
Zyrion placed the crystal on the table. Dervan's smile vanished instantly. He leaned in, the light of the crystal reflecting in his wide eyes.
"This…" he whispered, his voice trembling, "is no ordinary relic."
After listening to their story, Dervan exhaled a long, shaky breath. "This is a fragment of the ancient dragons' power. A remnant of the age when humans and dragons shared a single destiny. If it has resurfaced now, it means something is awakening. Something that may reshape Kyrethron forever."
Zyrion shifted uneasily. "So… what now?"
"Protect it. Study it. And prepare," Dervan warned. "But remember, Zyrion… power never comes without a price. This is only the beginning of a long and perilous path."
Zyrion exchanged a look with Kyrahna. "Great. I just hope this path includes scheduled lunch breaks."
Kyrahna managed a small smile, but the worry in her eyes remained. The crystal sat between them—bright, alive, and heavy with secrets they weren't yet ready to hear.
Dervan's cabin felt smaller than usual, the walls crowded by the weight of his words. The elder reached out a withered hand, hovering it over the crystal but never touching it.
"The Dragon Master's rank was once a shield for Kyrethron," Dervan said, his voice barely a rasp. "But shields can break, and ranks can be forgotten. This fragment is calling for a bearer. And where there is a call, there are always ears that should have remained deaf listening in the dark."
Zyrion didn't make a joke this time. He looked at the crystal, seeing his own emerald eyes reflected in its facets. "You're saying we're not just apprentices anymore."
"I am saying," Dervan replied, looking at both of them, "that the peace of Eldrion is a dream from which you have just woken up."
After leaving Dervan's cabin, Zyrion and Kyrahna walked toward the village outskirts. The sun was setting, but instead of the warm amber of the previous days, the sky looked like an open wound—deep violets and bruised purples bleeding into the horizon.
Kyrahna stopped by the old stone bridge. "Are you scared, Zyrion?"
Zyrion looked at his hands. They weren't shaking, but he felt a strange hum beneath his skin, as if his blood was vibrating in sync with the crystal they had left with Dervan. "I'm terrified, Kyrahna. But I'm also... tired."
"Tired?"
"Tired of waiting for the stories to happen to someone else," he said, his voice firming up. "If this fragment found us, it's because it thinks we can handle it. Or at least, it thinks I'm the only one brave enough to carry it while eating a meat stew."
Kyrahna let out a small, shaky laugh and leaned her head against his shoulder for a brief second. "You're an idiot, Zyrion. But you're our idiot."
Suddenly, the wind died down. The festive lanterns in the village distance flickered and went out all at once. A thick, unnatural cold swept over the bridge, smelling not of winter, but of something rotted and ancient.
From the trees, a shadow detached itself. It wasn't a person, nor an animal. It was a silhouette made of moving smoke, with eyes that burned like dying embers. It didn't walk; it drifted toward them, the grass beneath it withering and turning to ash.
Zyrion stepped in front of Kyrahna, his hand flying to the wooden dragon in his pocket. "Kyrahna... get back to the village. Now."
"I'm not leaving you!" she hissed, her hands glowing with a faint, panicked light.
The shadow stopped a few paces away. A voice, cold enough to freeze the blood in their veins, echoed in the air—not from a mouth, but from the void itself.
"The fragments... belong to the Eternal Void. Give it back, little spark, or be extinguished."
Zyrion felt the heat of the crystal pulsing from Dervan's cabin behind them. He took a breath, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"If you want it," Zyrion spat, his emerald eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous light, "you're going to have to do better than a scary voice and some bad smoke."
The shadow lunged.
The prophecy speaks of balance, not victory.