When the door creaked open, the woman froze.
On her doorstep sat a tiny boy, wrapped in tattered cloth, shivering violently. His hair was pale, almost silver in the pale dawn light, and his eyes—wide, unblinking, and startlingly aware—stared up at her. He did not cry for long, only letting out small whimpers, and his gaze seemed to take in everything at once.
The woman stepped forward instinctively and lifted him into her arms. He was light, fragile, yet there was something in his presence that pressed heavily against her chest, a quiet intensity that made her heart tighten.
"My God…" she whispered. "What happened to you?"
Her name was Elysande, a woman who had longed for a child but had none. Her husband, Kael, a reserved and commanding man, would return in a week, yet she did not hesitate to act. She wrapped the boy in a thick blanket, warming his trembling body and holding him close.
She studied him for a long moment, her hands tracing the outline of his small frame. He was silent, but his eyes seemed to see far beyond the room, beyond her, beyond even the world itself.
"He has no name," she murmured, and then softly, "You shall be called Jack. A name for one who has survived the impossible."
The boy did not respond in words. He only blinked, tiny fists curling slightly against the blanket. And in that silent exchange, Elysande felt it—an unspoken understanding. The boy would grow, and he would carry more than just his own life; he would carry something extraordinary.
Years passed. Jack grew under their care, quiet and observant, never fully like the other children. By the age of twelve, he had become agile, strong, and impossibly light on his feet. He climbed trees with the ease of a wild creature, leapt across roots and rocks, and moved through the undergrowth with a predator's grace.
The forest around the village had become his domain, and he knew every tree, every shadow, every hidden path. Animals did not fear him; they respected him. Villagers called him strange, gifted, or cursed, but Jack did not care. The forest was home, and within it, he was free.
One evening, as the sun set and painted the world in streaks of gold and violet, he heard a sound that made his blood quicken—a low growl, deep and vibrating, almost like it carried intelligence. His chest tightened. He knew that sound. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he remembered a shadowy figure, a small creature with scales and glowing eyes… the one who had saved him.
Jack followed the sound without hesitation, weaving through the dense forest until he reached a clearing he had never seen before. And there it was.
A dragon crouched among the ferns, scales shimmering with bronze and green, wings folded neatly at its sides. Its eyes locked onto his, intelligent and piercing. Jack froze. Recognition hit him like a thunderclap.
The creature lowered its head slightly, tilting it as though studying him, weighing him. Jack slowly crouched to meet its gaze. "I… I remember you," he whispered. "You saved me."
The dragon's growl was soft, low, and vibrating through the clearing. Jack reached out, and the dragon pressed its snout against his hand. The scales were smooth, warm, and alive with quiet power.
Jack smiled, a thrill running through him. "I should give you a name," he said after a pause. "I'll call you… Jimmy."
The dragon blinked, tilting its head again, then let out a soft, approving rumble. And in that sound, Jack knew a bond had formed—silent, unbreakable, and destined to change both their lives forever.
He spent the remainder of the evening in the clearing, climbing, exploring, and speaking softly to Jimmy. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if aware that something extraordinary was unfolding in its heart.
When stars began to pierce the darkening sky, Jack turned back toward the village, heart racing with excitement and awe. Elysande waited at home, unaware that their adopted son had discovered something that would mark the beginning of his extraordinary destiny.