Rain slicked streets reflected the fractured glow of the city — neon signs pulsed in reds, blues, and poisonous greens, bleeding into the puddles like spilled paint. Cars hissed by on the main road, tires slicing through water, their headlights sharp and cold.
Aiden Park stood beneath the awning of a closed convenience store, watching the storm. The air smelled of ozone, wet asphalt, and fried oil from the diner down the block. His hoodie was soaked through at the shoulders, the fabric heavy against his skin, but he didn't care.
Friday nights in this district were a gamble — you could get cheap food and quiet, or you could find trouble. Tonight, it was the latter.
He glanced at his phone. 11:47 p.m. A group chat from his college friends blinked at the top of the screen, but he didn't reply. He'd left the gathering early; the noise and fake laughter weren't for him. Instead, he'd taken the long walk home.
Aiden wasn't a coward. But he wasn't reckless either. If he could avoid unnecessary trouble, he would. Still… when the trouble came to someone else's doorstep, he had a bad habit of stepping in.
---
The sound reached him first — a muffled yelp, quickly cut off. Then the scrape of rubber soles against wet concrete.
His head turned toward the alley beside the shuttered bakery. A single flickering light illuminated the narrow space, and in its dim circle, he saw a man — heavyset, hood pulled low — shoving a smaller figure against the wall. The smaller figure's hair clung wet to her face, eyes wide, one arm pinned as the man rifled through her bag.
Aiden's jaw tightened. His body told him to keep walking. His mind replayed the scene from the news last week — another victim, another statistic.
He stepped forward.
"Hey!"
The mugger froze, head turning just enough to see him. The man's lips pulled into something that might have been a smirk.
"Not your business, kid."
Aiden raised both hands in a placating gesture, approaching slowly. "She's not worth prison time. Walk away and—"
The man lunged.
---
A glint of metal flashed under the alley's light — too fast to dodge. The knife slid between Aiden's ribs before he could even process the movement. Hot pain exploded in his side, forcing the air from his lungs.
He staggered back, one hand clutching the wound. His vision swam, and the mugger's voice reached him through the rain like something from underwater.
"Should've kept walking."
The man bolted past him, vanishing into the night with the woman's bag. The woman herself had collapsed against the wall, sobbing, not even looking at him.
Aiden tried to breathe. Every inhale was fire, every exhale a knife twist. His knees buckled.
So this is it?
He thought of his parents — gone years ago in a car accident. Thought of the unfinished books on his shelf. Thought of the fact that tomorrow, someone would walk past this alley and just see a stain on the pavement.
The rain hammered down harder. He collapsed to the ground, his blood mingling with the dirty water.
Darkness closed in.
---
He expected nothing after death — maybe the quiet, maybe oblivion.
Instead, the darkness breathed.
It was vast, ancient, and alive. Shapes moved in the periphery of his vision, too massive to comprehend. The air — if it was air — was thick and heavy, pressing against his skin like the deep ocean.
And then it opened its eye.
A single golden iris split by a vertical slit, brighter than any sun, locked onto him. The gaze pinned him in place, not with force, but with an authority that made his soul feel small.
> "A soul unbound by fate…"
The voice was a growl and a whisper, thunder and silk. It vibrated through the void, rattling the edges of his thoughts.
Aiden's mouth worked soundlessly before he managed: "Who… are you?"
> "Names matter little to mortals. But you… you are interesting."
Something vast shifted in the dark — the suggestion of scales, the curve of a horn.
> "Your heart stops, your life ends… unless…"
The word hung there, a hook in his mind.
"Unless what?"
> "Take my power. Feed me your enemies. Devour them all."
---
Aiden hesitated. His mind screamed at him that deals like this never ended well. But the cold creeping into his bones reminded him that his time was already spent.
"…What's the price?"
The golden eye narrowed, glinting like molten metal.
> "You will hunger. For strength. For blood. For more."
The hunger in the voice wasn't metaphor. He could feel it — a gnawing, endless need, curling inside the darkness.
But then… something else. A pulse. A deep, resonant thump-thump, like a second heartbeat that wasn't his.
> "Accept, and I will make you more than human. A predator above predators. My heir."
Aiden swallowed. His rational mind was still arguing, still weighing the choice. But his body… his body already wanted that heartbeat.
"…Fine."
The darkness smiled. He didn't know how, but he felt it.
> "Then rise, Dragon's Heir."
---
Light tore the darkness apart.
He gasped — air flooded his lungs. His eyes snapped open to see a wooden ceiling above him, rough and uneven, with a cobweb in one corner.
His body felt wrong — smaller, lighter. His hands were unscarred, the skin smooth and pale. His side… no wound.
He sat up abruptly. Through a small square window, sunlight spilled over rolling green hills, dotted with wooden cottages and fields of waving grain. Beyond them, a dark line of trees marked the edge of a vast forest.
The door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman stepped inside, carrying a basin of water. Her eyes widened when she saw him awake.
"Oh! You're up! We found you passed out near the well. What's your name, dear?"
Aiden's lips moved before he could think.
"…Aiden."
She smiled warmly. "Well, Aiden, welcome to Rosefield Village. You're safe here."
Safe.
He felt the word echo in his mind — and then felt the other heartbeat again, deep inside him. Slow. Powerful. Waiting.
And somewhere, far beneath the earth… something in the forest stirred.