Kael's knuckles were white as he gripped the worn spear. His breath hitched in his throat, misting in the frigid air of the Talon Spur. Below him, nestled precariously on a narrow ledge, was the prize: a single Crimson Bloom, its petals an almost painful red against the grey rock. The only known cure for the Howling Cough that was wracking his little sister, Elara.
The problem? A Frostfang Viper, thick as his arm and twice as long, lay coiled possessively around the bloom's stem, its scales glittering like chips of ice. Its triangular head, eyes like frozen sapphire, tracked Kael's slightest movement.
He was no Hunter. He was Kael, the village weakling, the one who usually fumbled snares and brought back nothing but bitter roots. But Elara's rasping breaths had driven him out of the relative safety of Veridian Hollow, up into the dangerous lower reaches of the Sky-Reaches, a place where even seasoned foragers hesitated to tread.
"Just… just the flower," Kael whispered, more to himself than the viper. His spear, a hand-me-down with a chipped stone tip, felt impossibly heavy.
The Frostfang didn't care for negotiations. It hissed, a sound like grinding ice, and its forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air.
Panic clawed at Kael. He should run. This was suicide. But Elara's face, pale and feverish, flashed in his mind. He couldn't go back empty-handed. Not this time.
He took a clumsy step forward. The viper lunged.
Kael yelped, stumbling back. The spear clattered from his numb fingers. He fell hard on his rear, scraping his hands. The viper, lightning fast, struck where he'd been standing, its fangs clicking audibly. It recoiled, readying for another strike.
*This is it. I'm dead.*
But as the viper drew back its head, Kael's eyes, wide with terror, snagged on something wedged in a crevice just behind the Crimson Bloom. A piece of dark, angular stone, almost black, unlike any rock he'd seen in these mountains. It seemed to absorb the weak sunlight.
Desperation made him reckless. As the viper lunged again, Kael didn't try to dodge. He scrambled forward, not towards the flower, but towards that strange black stone. His hand closed around its sharp, surprisingly cold surface.
Pain seared his arm as the viper's fangs grazed his forearm, drawing blood. But Kael barely registered it. The moment his fingers tightened on the black stone, a jolt, cold and sharp, shot up his arm. It wasn't painful, not like the viper's bite. It was… energizing.
For an instant, the world sharpened. He saw the individual scales on the viper's recoiling head, the faint tremor in its neck muscles, the precise arc of its next intended strike. It was as if time had stretched, just for a heartbeat.
He didn't think. He *reacted*.
With the black stone still clutched in his hand, he swung his wounded arm in a wild, desperate arc. The sharp edge of the stone connected with the side of the viper's head with a sickening thud.
The viper went limp, its coils slackening, and tumbled off the ledge into the abyss below.
Kael stared, panting, his arm throbbing. Blood dripped from the twin puncture marks onto the grey rock. He looked at the black stone in his hand. It was just a rock, wasn't it? But the cold jolt, the momentary clarity…
He shook his head. No time. Elara.
He snatched the Crimson Bloom, its petals soft against his bloodied fingers. Then, clutching the flower and the strange black stone, he scrambled back the way he came, his mind reeling.
When he stumbled back into Veridian Hollow, hours later, filthy, bleeding, but with the Crimson Bloom held aloft, the villagers stared in disbelief. Elder Myra herself rushed forward.
"Kael! By the Spirits! What happened to you?"
"Viper," he gasped, offering the flower. "For Elara."
As Myra took the bloom and hurried to prepare it, Kael sank to the ground, his adrenaline fading, leaving him weak and trembling. He looked at the black stone, still clutched tightly. It looked ordinary now, just a piece of dark rock. But he knew. Something had happened up there. Something had changed.
Later, after Elara had taken the potion made from the bloom and her breathing had eased slightly, Kael sat alone in the dim light of their dwelling. He examined his wounded arm. The viper's bite was already swelling, a painful, angry red.
He looked at the black stone. On impulse, he pressed it against the wound.
Another jolt, colder this time, and fainter. But as he held it there, the throbbing in his arm seemed to lessen, the angry redness around the bite marks receding just a fraction. It wasn't healing it, not completely, but it was… doing something.
Kael stared at the stone, then at his slowly improving wound. A wild, impossible thought sparked in his mind. This stone… it wasn't just a rock. It was something more. Something that had helped him survive, something that might even help him heal.
This was no ordinary find. This was power. And Kael, the village weakling, had just stumbled upon it.