The Shadow Of Dragonfell

Chapter 2: Call to the emberpeak

The morning after the attack on Windhold dawned grey and cold, the sky still heavy with the remnants of the unnatural storm that had accompanied the wyrm's arrival. Smoke hung in the air, mingling with the mist that rose from the River Frostbane. The village was eerily silent, the usual sounds of daily life replaced by the occasional creak of charred wood and the sobs of those who had lost everything.

Aric stood at the edge of the village, looking out over the ruins. The forge had miraculously survived the attack, but many of the houses had not been so fortunate. Haldor, his father, was busy helping the villagers salvage what they could, but Aric could see the worry etched deeply into his father's face. He had tried to speak with Aric after the battle, but the words had stuck in his throat. What could he say? His son had done something no one thought possible, yet it had left a chasm of fear between them.

As Aric turned away from the devastation, he saw a figure approaching from the forest, cloaked in the green and brown hues of the wild. The man moved with the silent grace of a predator, his steps barely making a sound on the damp earth. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto Aric as he approached.

"Aric of Windhold?" the man asked, his voice low and measured.

Aric nodded, unsure of who this stranger was or what he wanted.

"My name is Kael," the man continued. "I am a ranger of the Order of the Flame. I've been tracking the wyrms since they began to stir in the mountains. I saw what you did last night."

Aric tensed, memories of the battle flashing through his mind. "What did I do?"

"You used the Flame-Tongue," Kael said, his eyes narrowing. "A Word of Power, spoken in the ancient language of the wyrms. Only those with the blood of the Flameborn can wield such power."

"The Flameborn?" Aric echoed, the word unfamiliar to him.

Kael nodded. "Long ago, in the time when the wyrms ruled the skies, there were those among the mortals who could speak their language. The Flameborn, they were called—warriors who possessed the soul of fire, able to command the forces of the wyrms themselves. It is said that the Flameborn would return when the wyrms did, to either save or doom the world."

Aric felt a chill run down his spine. "You think I'm... one of them?"

"I don't think—I know," Kael replied. "You drove off a wyrm, something no ordinary man could do. The power you used is a sign, Aric. The prophecy is coming to pass, and you have a part to play in it."

Aric shook his head, backing away. "I'm just a blacksmith's apprentice. I'm no hero. I don't want anything to do with this prophecy."

"You may not have a choice," Kael said, his tone grave. "The wyrms are returning, and with them comes a darkness that will consume all of Erinthal. You've been given a gift—a gift that might be the only thing that can stop them."

Aric looked down at his hands, still feeling the warmth of the fire that had surged through him the night. Aric looked down at his hands, which still trembled with the memory of the fire that had surged through them. The idea that he was somehow connected to the ancient Flameborn, that he might be the key to stopping the wyrms, filled him with both fear and disbelief. He was just a blacksmith's apprentice, a young man who had never ventured beyond the borders of Windhold. How could he possibly be destined for something so monumental?

"I don't know if I can do this," Aric said quietly, more to himself than to Kael.

Kael's expression softened, his earlier intensity giving way to something more compassionate. "None of us are truly ready for the paths we're given," he said. "But you've already taken the first step. The fact that you stood against the wyrm, that you tapped into the Flame-Tongue without even knowing it—that means something."

Aric looked up, meeting Kael's steady gaze. "What do I do now?"

"Come with me to Emberpeak," Kael said. "The Keepers of the Flame can help you understand your power, teach you how to control it. If the wyrms are truly awakening, we'll need every bit of help we can get."

Aric hesitated. His heart ached at the thought of leaving Windhold, leaving his father and the only life he had ever known. But deep down, he knew that things could never go back to the way they were. The wyrm's attack had shattered the peace of his world, and there was no way to rebuild it without confronting the threat head-on.

"I'll go with you," Aric finally said, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "But I need to say goodbye to my father first."

Kael nodded. "I'll wait for you at the edge of the village. Gather what you need—we leave at first light."

Aric turned and made his way back to the forge, where his father was still helping the villagers. As he approached, Haldor looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"I heard what the ranger said," Haldor said, his voice gruff. "You're going with him."

Aric nodded, unable to meet his father's gaze. "I have to. If what he says is true, if I really am connected to this prophecy... I can't just stay here. I have to do something."

Haldor sighed, wiping soot from his hands onto his apron. "I always knew you were meant for more than this village," he said quietly. "Your mother... she used to say you had a fire in you, one that would take you far from here. I didn't want to believe it, but I see it now. You're not just my son, Aric. You're something greater."

Aric felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "I don't know if I'm ready for this, Father."

"You're stronger than you know," Haldor said, placing a hand on Aric's shoulder. "And no matter where you go, you'll always have a home here. But this world needs you now, more than I do."

Aric embraced his father, holding him tightly. "I'll come back," he promised, though he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise.

Haldor nodded, stepping back to give his son a final, approving look. "Take care of yourself, Aric. And remember—your strength comes from more than just your sword. It comes from your heart."

Aric nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He turned and walked back to where Kael was waiting, his resolve hardening with each step.

As dawn broke over the mountains, casting a golden light over the smoldering remains of Windhold, Aric and Kael set out on the road to Emberpeak. The journey ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, but Aric knew that there was no turning back. The shadow of Dragonfell loomed on the horizon, and with it, the fate of all Erinthal