"All of Eldir-Vahn celebrates you, Tamers!"
The chieftain's voice rolled across the stone amphitheater, low and patient. The sound echoed along the polished terraces, climbed the arches, and dissolved into the hanging mist.
Crispin pushed forward through the cluster of bodies. Murmurs brushed his ears as he slipped between shoulders and elbows. The crowd felt heavier than it should have, thick with nerves.
The leader spread his hands and adjusted his position at the podium. "As chieftain of Thalandir, I am honored to showcase the talent of Hollow Earth."
Claps and cheers resounded from the cavea. Some parents stood and cheered. Crispin flushed and looked at the lower terraces.
The village below lay carved into the living stone, a maze of granite homes and slate roofs. Bridges etched with symbols spanned the gaps between walls, their surfaces worn smooth by generations. Streams spilled from elevated channels, feeding the glow-moss lining the streets below.
Crispin shifted as an older man shuffled forward with a carved cane. Elder Xereniti. The clamor died the moment he reached the stone podium.
Hair fell long and white down his back, braided with bits of bone and beadwork that clicked when he moved. Age had darkened his skin until it resembled a map of etched lines. He wore a leather kilt stitched with sinew; charms of tooth and shell hung from a broad belt at his waist.
"Tamers," he said, his voice quiet, but somehow carrying farther. "Thank you for attending."
Crispin straightened without meaning to. His fellow tamers followed suit—even the high-nobles.
"If you are standing here today," the Elder continued, "your kingdoms have already recognized your strength of will, patience, and respect for the bond." He let his gaze travel across the crowd, pale eyes sharp despite his age. "Today," he said, tapping his cane once against the stone, "is your coming of age."
A ripple passed through the young tamers. Crispin felt his stomach tighten.
"Rules," the Elder said. "There is no fighting among yourselves. Whatever creature answers you today is yours alone. You may not interfere with another's claim." He paused. "Beware. Some beasts are savage and will not comply. If you attempt to force a bond that rejects you…your family and Eldir-Vahn will miss you."
A hush fell so complete that the distant trickle of water from the village below filled the amphitheater. His eyes widened. Hearing the fact spoken, without excuse or apology, made his chest constrict with tension.
The elder lifted his chin. "I have released four legendary creatures into the forest this morning," he said. "Three of them are dragons."
The amphitheater erupted. Gasps, shouts, and outright cheers broke out before parents silenced them with sharp looks.
"Some may be friendly," Xereniti added. "While others may not."
A boy near Crispin proclaimed. "I'm getting a dragon," he said to his friends.
Crispin rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Lucien's laugh, sounding sharp and grating, made his nerves twitch. Lucien adjusted his gem-etched gauntlets, looking over the crowd with the casual indifference of a man who had already been told he'd won. His hair was bound with decorative silver clasps instead of simple cord.
His attention drifted, and his gaze caught on a girl a few paces away. She noticed him looking and smiled—small and warm. Light caught in her golden hair. Heat rushed to his face. He looked down at his boots, fascinated by the floor's refraction of the light.
"Let the taming begin!" called Xereniti. He raised his cane and brought it down once. "Whatever you have claimed by dusk shall be your companion. If you are unhappy with your find, you will have one more attempt tomorrow. Any legendary not found today will remain in play." He spread his free hand. "Go."
The amphitheater exploded into motion. Groups formed, friends and rivals surging toward familiar paths leading into the forest. Others broke off alone, determined to rely only on themselves.
Crispin hesitated, then tried to fall behind a cluster heading toward the western trail. In moments, he was alone at the forest's edge, watching backs disappear into the bioluminescent undergrowth.
He swallowed and stepped forward.
The forest of Thalandir was ancient. Towering fungi caps stood nestled into the ridges of the mountains. Motes of light drifted like lazy fireflies amongst the silver oak trees. Thick vines crept along stone and root alike. Streams cut paths through moss-covered ground; distant calls echoed—some melodic, others unsettling.
Crispin moved deeper into the thicket, away from the shouts of his peers. He passed a massive stone-hide tortoise resting near a pool. Its shell looked like a miniature mountain range. It was sturdy and dependable. It sat motionless. No spark of connection flared; he needed a partner who could move with him, not a fortress that required a map to navigate.
Further along, a Glint-Wing bird perched on a branch of petrified wood. Its feathers shimmered like shards of polished sun-crystal. With emerald-like eyes, the creature stared at him, its head tilting. The creature was beautiful but held the energy of a coiled spring. The moment he reached out, the bird vanished in a streak of golden light, leaving only a single shimmering feather behind.
Crispin followed the sound of a trickling stream, kicking a loose stone ahead of him. He was a tamer without a target, wandering a forest full of wonders that refused to speak to him.
A winged serpent lay coiled along the rocky crest of the basin. Crystalline scales caught the glow of the moss, each plate reflecting light like cut glass. Pressure built in Crispin's chest as he approached. His pulse blazed with each step.
A twig snapped.
The serpent surged upright, wings flaring as its body arched. Venom gathered at the tips of its translucent fangs. Crispin stopped and held out his hand, fingers steady despite the tremor in his chest.
He reached for the bond. Resistance met him. Defiance welled in the beast's soul like a dam.
He studied the creature instead of forcing the pull. He adjusted his stance and his breathing. The bond could hold. Patience would be mandatory to claim this creature.
The serpent hissed, mouth opening wider.
Crispin lowered his hand. This would be a contest. A bond taken…did he want such a bond? This would be enslavement, not companionship.
He stepped back.
The serpent settled, coils tightening as it reclaimed the stone. Tension bled from the air as he turned. It did not differ from his time at the forge. One shared energy with their metal, not fighting against it with every breath. Regardless of how much he wanted to stand among the taming elite…this wasn't the way—and if it was, it wasn't his...
A sudden rush of feet thundered past.
"Dragon!" someone shouted.
Crispin watched them surge forward. Black wings flapped overhead and flew above the canopy.
He had time to step aside as Lucien and his friends charged through, laughing and shoving, eyes fixed skyward. One of them almost crushed something small beneath his boot. He wanted to run after them, claim a dragon; he had the skill, but in years past, it was only the nobles or the social elite that tamed them. Someone like him? The outcast with a dragon? He sighed…wishful thinking.
A sudden, sharp pressure tightened in Crispin's chest. "Hey!" he shouted.
A streak of translucent blue darted aside—flowing rather than running—and vanished into a shallow alcove near the stream. Crispin didn't hesitate. He ran after it and dropped to his knees by the moss-covered rocks.
"Hey," he whispered. "Little guy?"
Nothing responded from the shadows at first. Crispin waited, keeping his breathing shallow and his posture low. The damp smell of moss and cold stone filled his nose. A gelatinous shape peeked around the edge of the alcove, glossy and clear, reflecting the shifting forest lights like a sphere of liquid glass. Two glowing eyes blinked at him before the creature slid back into the darkness.
Crispin smiled despite himself. "I won't hurt you," he said, keeping his voice an indistinct murmur. "My name's Crispin. I'm a tamer."
The slime eased out a little farther, its body rippling with a soft blue luminescence. It seemed to vibrate, testing the air or perhaps the sincerity of his words.
"Do you know what tamers are?" Crispin asked.
The slime bobbed once, a distinct and deliberate motion that sent a surge of surprise through Crispin's chest. Most wild slimes were mindless scavengers, yet this one possessed a sharp, focused awareness.
Crispin laughed. "Good. Sorry about the others. They're just excited. Dragons and all."
The slime drifted closer, its surface smoothing out as it lost its defensive tension. It stopped just inches from his hand.
"Have you seen any dragons around here?"
The slime nodded.
His pulse quickened. The prospect of a legendary beast was the dream of every youth in the village. "Do you think you could take me to them? I'd love to tame a dragon."
The slime shivered. It flattened itself against the moss, turning thin as it tried to vanish into the ground.
Crispin winced, feeling a pang of guilt. "Yeah. Fair. I wouldn't want to be anywhere near them either." He tilted his head, watching the creature recover its shape. "Have you seen anything… worth taming?"
The slime grew a small, translucent arm and tapped its own core.
"You?" he asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
The slime nodded enthusiastically. It reshaped part of its body into a tiny, flexing bicep, holding the pose with a comical sense of pride.
Crispin burst out laughing. The sound echoed through the quiet grove, startling a few glowing motes into the air. "You're strong, huh? I've never seen a slime down here before." He considered the little creature for a moment.
It was small and charming. "How about this," he said, holding out his hand, palm up. "I'll offer you, my bond, and you can come with me. If we find something better—something you don't want to be around—I'll make sure you're safe and let you go. No pressure."
The slime paused. Its internal light pulsed with a steady, thoughtful rhythm. It nodded. A nub of jelly pointed at Crispin before the creature's surface flattened and hardened, forming a wide, translucent shield.
Crispin grinned. "You'll be my shield?"
The slime wobbled.
"Deal."
He reached inward, feeling for the familiar pull of the taming rite he had practiced for years. The bond formed. Warm and gentle, a flush surged through him, like clasping hands instead of snapping chains. A brief shimmer passed between them. Crispin saw the creature's surface ripple, symbols flickering beneath the jelly before settling into his mind.
Regulus.
He held out his arm. Regulus flowed up the fabric of his sleeve and settled on his shoulder, squishing down against his neck.
"Alright, Regulus," Crispin said, standing up and brushing the moss from his knees. "Let's see what the others found."