The wind howled like a living thing, carrying the scent of death and fire. The ridge beneath my claws was unstable, loose stones threatening to betray every step. But I didn't stop. The presence lingered ahead—stronger than any human I had encountered, denser than the hunters from before.
Then I saw her.
A figure standing in a small clearing, framed by jagged stones. A woman. Mage. The staff she held pulsed with mana so dense it made my chest ache. Runes glimmered along the staff's shaft, reacting to my presence like sensors attuned to dragons.
She was calm. Too calm.
"You've grown," she said, voice carrying across the valley with unnatural clarity. "I sensed the weak one surviving the hunters. You've come farther than I expected."
I snarled, tail lashing. Instinct screamed. Fight. But my first leap forward revealed something I hadn't expected: she wasn't alone. Floating stones, enchanted with blue light, formed a barrier around her, swirling with a pattern that radiated intelligence and lethality.
I realized then that I had underestimated her.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "You're different. Not the same as the hatchlings I've seen. Your dragon core… old, fragmented, and defiant. Interesting."
A warning went off in my mind. This was not the same level of threat as the hunters. This was elite. Someone trained specifically to kill dragons. Or perhaps control them.
The mage raised her staff. A circle of runes appeared beneath my claws, glowing faintly before exploding into light. Energy rushed through the air like a tidal wave. I rolled to the side, scales scraping stone, tail whipping at the floating stones to disrupt the formation.
Still, her power was overwhelming. Mana pulses hit harder than any predator. The first wave alone nearly knocked me into a crevice below. I realized: I was not ready to fight her head-on. Not yet.
Then she spoke again, voice calm, measured:
"You are fast. Clever. Stronger than the hunters predicted. But do not think that gives you freedom. You survive only because I allow it."
Her words carried weight—threat, promise, and curiosity rolled into one. My dragon instincts growled. I did not bow. I did not retreat. I sized her up, noting the fluctuations in her mana, her stance, the runes she favored.
She noticed. Smiled slightly. "I wonder… what you could become if trained. Or destroyed."
The temptation to attack surged—but I paused. Something in her words, in the way she moved, hinted at more than just a hunter's interest. She wasn't here for territory. She was here for control. Knowledge. Power. And perhaps, if I survived, alliance.
I circled low, eyes narrowed. My fire still weak, but sharpened by instinct. I hissed, smoke curling around my snout.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Do you even know what you are?"
Her words echoed in my mind. For the first time, I realized: I was more than just a weak dragon, more than just a survivor. But I didn't know my limits. And this mage—this elite predator—was going to teach me.
She lifted her staff higher. Runes ignited in a brilliant arc. The ground shook. Rocks cracked. And I leapt, wings twitching, dodging shards of stone and arcs of pure energy.
The first real lesson hit me: humans were not only dangerous—they were adaptive. And this mage had prepared for dragons like me. She had studied us. Anticipated our moves. And she wasn't even serious yet.
A pulse of mana surged nearby. Another human? Another mage? Or was it… another dragon, watching silently from the shadows? I couldn't tell. My instincts screamed caution.
I landed behind a jagged boulder, chest heaving, claws digging into stone. The mage's gaze followed, unwavering, as if she could see everything I did.
"You survive," she said softly. "But only barely. You will grow. And when you do, we will meet again. Perhaps as enemies… perhaps as something else."
Then, without another word, she vanished in a swirl of mana, leaving the mountains silent except for the wind and my labored breaths.
I lowered my head, studying the ridge. My dragon core pulsed faster than ever. Knowledge from the first evolution surged into me, whispering lessons: patience, observation, adaptation.
I wasn't defeated. Not yet. But the mage had marked me. And I knew instinctively: our paths would cross again, and next time, survival might not be enough.
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