The Dragon Heir (BOOK#1)

CHAPTER 8

     ✨️The Drakenian Heritage✨️

*Melike pov*

I was walking in the cave when I found a mysterious engraving on the wall.

I had sought solace in the familiar warmth of Flame's presence, but a nagging curiosity kept me from succumbing to grief. A faint, almost imperceptible draft had drawn my attention to a seemingly innocuous crack in the cave wall, an anomaly amidst the rough-hewn stone. As I approached, the air around the crack crackled with energy, and a feeling of ancient knowledge washed over me. It was a feeling I recognized, a echo of the Mauritian Creole language, a tongue I had only heard whispered in stories, a language my ancestors used to communicate with the dragons. The Creole Mauritian language is dying nowadays. Even Ava don't know about it.

With a sudden jolt, I realized the truth. The passage was not merely a crack, but a gateway, sealed by an ancient Drakenian ritual, a secret passage that only those with pure Mauritian Creole blood could open. A spark of determination ignited in my eyes. I would learn more about my ancestors, about how they had walked hand in hand with the dragons, about the secrets this passage held.

Fuelled by a newfound purpose, I began my exploration. I delved into the dusty scrolls and worn leather-bound books I found in the cave, spending nights deciphering the ancient scripts, my mind working feverishly to unlock the secrets of the past. As I progressed, I felt a strange connection to the language, as if it were woven into my very essence, resonating with a truth I had never known. The Mauritian Creole became more than just a language; it was a key, a map, a conduit to my heritage, a way to understand the history of my people and our bond with the dragons.

With each passing day, the cryptic symbols whispered revelations. We talked about a forgotten ritual, a Drakenian ceremony that harnessed the magic of the dragons, a ritual that could heal the wounds of the past and restore the bloodline of the Drakenian. But the ritual was incomplete, its final step shrouded in mystery, a riddle waiting to be solved. I realized that the answer lay within the passage, within the secrets its stone lips guarded.

Just when I felt a breakthrough, a familiar roar echoed through the caverns. Flame, let out a distressed cry. His scales shimmered with a nervous, flickering light. My heart lurched, a cold dread gripping me.

"Flame, what is it?" I whispered urgently, my hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of my sword.

"Orphelia," Flame rasped, his voice heavy with concern. "Steps... someone in the cave."

A wave of panic washed over us. Orphelia, was sleeping in the hidden alcove at the back of the cave. She had been exhausted since our harrowing battle from the shadow creatures that had attacked Sentinel Valley. I had entrusted her safety to Flame, knowing his fierce protection.

Without a word, I grabbed my sword and raced towards the alcove, Flame close behind. The air crackled with our raw anxiety.

Reaching the alcove, we found it empty. The blankets were undisturbed, as if Orphelia had never been there. Relief swept over me, but it was quickly replaced by a prickling suspicion.

I scanned the cave, my eyes searching every nook and cranny. Flame, his emerald eyes narrowed, let out a low growl. His nostrils flared, sensing something amiss.

Then, we saw him.

Tolga, was crouched by the entrance, his face ashen, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and guilt. He was holding Orphelia in his arms, her small body limp and still.

Standing over Orphelia was Tolga, My beloved husband. His once-familiar face was etched with worry, and his normally calm eyes burned with a protective fire.