The Abyss had released them only when it chose to, its whispers fading into silence as Kael, Selara, Aurielle, and Nyxara emerged back into the mountain winds. The shard fused into Kael's being pulsed faintly beneath his scales, like a second heartbeat—one that tied him to something greater than himself.
They did not speak as they descended into the valley. The air was heavy with a stillness that spoke of destiny. But Kael already knew their next destination. The shard carried memories not only of magic but of a place older than most stars: the Eternal Forge, a sanctuary where the first dragons had shaped weapons from the heart of the world.
For three days they traveled across ridges and forgotten valleys, where bones of titans lay scattered like monuments to forgotten wars. Villages of mortals whispered of their passing, pointing to Kael's silhouette against the sky, their awe tinged with fear. No dragon like him had ever been seen, and yet they did not know his name. He moved through the world like a phantom, leaving behind legends but no answers.
When they reached the chasm of fire where the Forge slept, the land itself seemed to bow. A lake of molten rock stretched endlessly beneath the mountains, and in its center rose a black anvil the size of a fortress. Chains of fire and stone hung in the air, tethered to nothing, and runes glowed faintly across the cavern walls, whispering of forgotten oaths.
Selara inhaled sharply, her flames flaring around her. "The Eternal Forge," she murmured. "I thought it was only a myth… a story to frighten hatchlings and inspire dreamers."
Nyxara floated above the molten lake, her wings reflecting its crimson glow. "It is no myth. This is where the first blades were born, forged not of metal, but of essence itself. Only those chosen may shape a weapon here. It is a trial of will and soul."
Kael stepped forward, his expression unreadable, yet the fire in his golden eyes deepened. Without hesitation, he leapt into the molten lake.
The lava did not consume him. It parted, swirling around his body as if bowing to its master. He walked across it as though upon solid stone, his scales blazing brighter with each step. Selara and Aurielle watched in silence, awe etched into their faces. Nyxara only smiled faintly, as though she had expected nothing less.
At the great anvil, Kael placed his claw upon its surface. Instantly, flames erupted skyward, twisting into shapes of dragons long dead, their voices echoing like thunder. Who dares touch the Forge of the Ancients?
Kael's reply was calm, steady, and unwavering. "One who carries the will of the first flame."
The anvil glowed in response, recognizing the shard within him. The molten lake surged upward, hardening into metal that shimmered between gold and black, alive with power. Kael grasped it, shaping it not with hammer or fire, but with his will. Each strike of essence against essence rang through the cavern like a heartbeat, and with every pulse, the weapon began to take form.
Selara's breath caught as she watched. His body moved with quiet precision, each motion deliberate and commanding. This was no ordinary forging—this was creation. Flames obeyed him, bending as if they were his breath. Time itself seemed to bend, until at last Kael lifted the finished blade.
It was unlike any weapon the world had seen. A longsword of molten gold and shadow-black, its edge flickered like living fire, its hilt engraved with runes that whispered in forgotten tongues. When Kael held it aloft, the cavern trembled, the chains clanged as though in salute, and the molten lake roared with approval.
Selara whispered, almost to herself, "He… he has created a Flameborne Relic."
Nyxara's eyes glimmered, her voice soft and knowing. "No… he has created something beyond relics. That blade is alive. It will grow as he grows. And it recognizes only him."
Kael lowered the weapon, the fire dimming but never fading. His expression was still unreadable, but Selara saw it—just a flicker of satisfaction, hidden deep within his eyes.
Before they could rest, the air shifted. A new scent—ash, steel, and blood—drifted into the cavern. Aurielle stiffened, wings flaring. "We are not alone."
From the shadows of the cavern mouth, figures emerged. Dark-armored dragons, their scales etched with scars and their eyes burning with cruel intent. They bore the sigils of the Shattered Court, and at their head stood a towering figure cloaked in obsidian armor.
"Lord Varyon sends his regards," the leader sneered. "He wants what you carry. Surrender it, and your deaths will be swift."
Kael said nothing. His silence was heavier than any roar, more unsettling than any display of rage. He stepped forward, the Flameborne blade in hand, its fire pulsing softly. The Shattered Court dragons hesitated, unease flickering in their eyes. Something about him—the calm, the mystery, the sheer presence—unnerved them in ways they could not explain.
The leader snarled, shaking off the instinctive fear. "Then die with your secrets."
They lunged.
Kael moved like fire incarnate. His blade sang, arcs of molten gold and shadow carving through the cavern. Every strike was deliberate, clean, and final. Selara's flames surged to his side, her power a storm of heat and fury. Nyxara's celestial magic wove shields and spears of starlight, while Aurielle cut down foes with relentless precision. Together, they fought not as scattered warriors but as one unstoppable force.
The Shattered Court crumbled. Their screams echoed into the molten abyss as Kael's blade severed the last of them, the fire consuming their bodies until nothing remained but ash.
When silence fell once more, Selara turned to him, her eyes wide with awe and something deeper—an emotion she could no longer hide. "Kael… you fought as if the weapon had always been yours. As if it was waiting for you."
Kael sheathed the blade across his back. His face was unreadable, yet his golden eyes burned brighter than ever. "It was," he said quietly.
Nyxara tilted her head, studying him with that knowing gaze of hers. "And so the world begins to shift. A nameless dragon with a living blade. Whispers will spread. Legends will rise. Yet still, no one knows who you truly are."
Aurielle stepped closer, her voice low and steady. "And perhaps it is better that way. Mystery is a shield sharper than steel."
Kael said nothing. He only turned toward the cavern's exit, his cloak of fire trailing behind him. The Eternal Forge had given him a weapon, but also a burden. For with each step he took, the shadows of destiny grew darker, and the eyes of enemies more numerous.
But Kael did not fear them. He had grown in solitude, suffered in silence, and now walked a path none could predict. And though his identity remained hidden, the truth pulsed within him like a second heartbeat: the son of the Primordial Dragon Emperor was awake, and the world would never be the same.