The wind cut across the training yard like a blade.
Sixteen-year-old Alden Vaelrith stood alone in the center of the cracked stone courtyard, a wooden practice sword resting lazily across his shoulders as dawn crept over the jagged mountains surrounding the castle.
The first rays of sunlight spilled across frost-covered stone.
Each breath Alden exhaled turned to pale mist.
Winter still clung to the mountains, and the wind carried the bitter scent of ice and pine down from the peaks.
Above him, the banners of House Vaelrith hung from the castle walls.
Once they had been crimson and gold—colors meant to resemble dragonfire and blood.
Now they were faded.
Frayed by time.
Forgotten.
Five hundred years ago, those same banners had been planted into the backs of slain dragons as proof of victory.
Today…
Most people spat when they heard the name Vaelrith.
"Dragon Slayers," the kingdoms once called them.
Warriors who brought down the great wyrms and monstrous beasts that once terrorized the lands of Farnir.
Legends claimed a single Vaelrith knight could cut through dragon scale with a single strike.
That their blood could absorb the essence of the creatures they killed.
Strength.
Instinct.
Power.
Taken from monsters and turned against them.
Most people believed those stories were myths now.
Tales exaggerated by bards and storytellers.
But Alden knew better.
Because the blood in his veins was anything but ordinary.
Across the courtyard stood three young men.
His brothers.
Each older.
Each larger.
Each trained in the sword for years.
But none of them carried the blood of Vaelrith the way Alden did.
They were his half-brothers—sons of his stepmother, but trained in Vaelrith's ways of combat.
Strong.
Capable.
But not heirs of the ancient bloodline.
And judging by the uneasy looks on their faces—
None of them enjoyed sparring with him.
Eldric shifted his grip on his wooden longsword and grimaced.
"I'm getting real tired of fighting this fucking maniac."
Kalian snorted quietly beside him.
Yule only rubbed the back of his neck.
Alden lowered the wooden blade from his shoulders, twirling it once in his hand before resting it casually at his side.
His posture was relaxed.
Almost bored.
"You complain a lot now, Eldric," Alden said calmly.
His gray eyes flicked toward his eldest brother.
"I didn't complain when you locked me in the dungeon for three days when I was four."
Eldric looked mildly uncomfortable.
Alden tilted his head.
"Or when you released those dire wolf pups into my room."
Yule coughed.
Kalian grinned faintly.
"All pranks and fun games, right?" Alden added.
Eldric forced a laugh.
"Exactly, little brother. No need to bring up old—"
Kalian moved.
Fast.
Silent.
He lunged forward without warning.
A flash of wood.
Alden had already seen it.
The wooden sword snapped forward.
Crack.
Kalian's weapon spun out of his hand before he even realized what had happened.
It clattered across the frozen courtyard.
Eldric and Yule rushed him together.
Alden stepped between them like flowing water.
One strike slammed into Eldric's ribs.
The larger boy wheezed as the air burst from his lungs.
Alden twisted his wrist, deflecting Yule's swing.
Then his leg swept low.
Eldric hit the ground hard.
Yule stumbled backward as Alden's wooden blade stopped an inch from his throat.
Silence swallowed the courtyard.
Kalian stared at his empty hands.
Eldric groaned from the ground.
Yule slowly raised both of his.
"We really shouldn't be surprised," he muttered.
He rolled his eyes slightly.
"The Vaelrith bloodline breeds little beasts like this to kill other beasts."
His gaze slid toward Alden.
"You're faster than Kalian now."
He shook his head.
"And you're getting stronger every day."
High above them, Lord Cassian Vaelrith watched from a stone balcony.
The old man's long red hair traits of Vaelrith blood shifted in the wind.
Scars lined his face—old wounds from battles fought decades ago.
He rested both hands on the railing as he observed the courtyard.
His voice carried through the cold air.
"They took our titles."
The brothers froze.
"They took our lands."
His sharp gray eyes locked onto Alden.
"They stole our honor."
The wind tugged violently at the torn Vaelrith banner above them.
"But they could never take what made our house feared."
That night, the Vaelrith family gathered in the great hall.
The massive chamber had once hosted kings, nobles, and generals.
Now only a small section near the hearth was used.
The rest of the hall was dark.
Empty.
Cold.
A fire crackled inside the enormous stone fireplace.
Alden sat quietly at the long oak table while his brothers argued about the morning's sparring.
"You cheated," Eldric muttered.
"It was a leg sweep," Alden replied.
"Dirty move, cheating."
Yule chuckled softly.
Cassian finally spoke.
"Alden."
The room fell silent.
"Yes, grandfather?"
Cassian leaned back in his chair.
"There are truths about our bloodline the world has forgotten and others have hidden,"
His gaze moved across the table.
"Before I entrust something to you, you must understand what it means to be a Vaelrith."
He folded his scarred hands.
"Our bloodline is not simply strong."
"It is… receptive."
Alden frowned slightly.
Cassian continued.
"When a Vaelrith slays a powerful creature—dragon, wyvern, or ancient beast—our blood absorbs a fragment of its essence."
"Strength."
"Instinct."
"Power."
"That is how the first Vaelrith knights became dragon slayers."
Eldric frowned.
"So those of the Vaelrith bloodline gets to steal their power?"
Cassian shook his head.
"No, we inherit it. The essence becomes part of us,but there's a limit. A Vaelrith body can only carry the essence of one dragon, If a second dragon's power enters the blood…
He paused.
"The body collapses."
He tapped his chest.
"I carry the power of the Storm Tyrant, a dragon I slew forty years ago."
His eyes darkened.
"Which means I could not inherit the power of the last dragon our house ever faced."
"The dragon your father killed."
Alden's chest tightened.
Cassian spoke the name slowly.
"Vorthal the Maledict."
The room went still.
"Your uncles died in that battle,They held the dragon down long enough for your father to reach its heart, But Vorthal's power was curses and before it died…It cursed them."
"It cursed your parents."
"And it cursed the Vaelrith bloodline."
Alden clenched his fists.
"What kind of curse?"
"Your parents, they were cursed with a long and painful death, while our bloodline was cursed with misfortune."
Cassian's voice hardened.
"And House Malrec made sure the misfortune came."
The brothers looked up.
"They accused us of forbidden magic, of hoarding ancient and powerful relics. The purge began weeks after Vorthal fell. Our lands were seized.Our relics and tropheys stolen. Our allies vanished. Our name was rewritten in history as barbaric fighters who wanted to overtake the kingdom."
Cassian's gaze settled on Alden.
"And with your uncles dead and your parents gone, there were only two true Vaelrith left. You and me."
The room fell silent.
Cassian placed a small wooden chest on the table.
"Since I already carry another dragon's power, I cannot absorb Vorthal's essence."
He opened the chest.
Inside lay a fang wrapped in black cloth.
He unwrapped it slowly
Black bone threaded with crimson veins.
"This is Vorthal's fang."
He slid it toward Alden.
"You are the last Vaelrith capable of inheriting dragon power and with enough training you might be able to break the curse with the same powers. Take it."
Alden reached forward.
The moment his fingers touched the fang—
Pain exploded in his mouth almost as if he bit his tongue off.
He collapsed from his chair as fire tore through his mouth.
"Alden!"
His brothers jumped to their feet.
But Cassian did not move.
The pain slowly faded.
Alden gasped for breath.
Then he felt it.
Something burned into his tongue.
A mark.
Black lines forming a jagged sigil like fangs closing around a circle.
Cassian nodded.
"The dragon has been inherited."
Alden swallowed.
"What… did you give me?"
"A gift," Cassian said.
"And a curse."
Pain still burned across Alden's tongue.
Then he heard it.
A whisper.
Ancient.
Cold.
So… this is the heir of the hunters.
Alden froze.
The voice was inside his mind.
Weak… young… but the blood is correct.
"Grandfather…"
Cassian leaned forward.
"You hear her."
"Yes. I can hear Vorthal, "
Cassian nodded.
"Good, That means the essence has taken root."
Vorthal spoke again.
Cassian Vaelrith. Still living, interesting.
Inside Alden's mind, the dragon laughed.
So the old hunter gives my fang to a child.
Alden clenched his jaw.
"You cursed my family."
And you hunted my kind for centuries.
Alden's mark pulsed.
Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Take a breath, young one."
Alden inhaled slowly.
"Now,"
Cassian's voice hardened.
"You need to remember something very important. That dragon is not your master. It can not control you. It's already been slain and dominated in the physical world, that was the hard part, now you have to dominate it's essence."
The whisper hissed.
"It is your prey."
Cassian leaned closer.
"The essence inside you is not the dragon itself. It's just a fragment of its power. Its instincts and will. If you allow it to takeover you, Vorthal's nature will change you from its handler to its weapon."
Alden swallowed hard
"Then how do I control it?"
Cassian's grip tightened and a faint smile appeared.
"You dominate it."
His voice carried the weight of a lifetime of battle.
"That is the way of Vaelrith blood. We do not borrow a dragon's power. We conquer it."
Inside Alden's mind—
The dragon laughed.
Low.
Predatory.
Then show me… little hunter.
Alden slowly rose to his feet.
The burning mark pulsed again.
And for the first time in many years—
The Vaelrith bloodline was awaken.
Hope you enjoy this is my first time writing for webnovel. Hopefully not my last ^_^
DreamRock