The Shadow Of Dragonfell

Chapter 5: The keepers of the flame

Aric awoke the next morning in a small, sparsely furnished chamber deep within Emberpeak. The room was cool, the stone walls radiating a faint chill that made him pull his blankets closer. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the previous day rushed back to him—the journey, the wyrm attack, the revelation that he might be the Flameborn of prophecy. It all felt surreal, like a dream he couldn't quite shake.

But as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the weight of reality settled over him. He was in Emberpeak, the ancient fortress of the Keepers of the Flame, and he had been thrust into a destiny far beyond his control.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Aric? Are you awake?" a voice called from the other side.

"Yes, I'm awake," Aric replied, his voice still groggy with sleep.

The door opened to reveal Keeper Lysara, the woman who had shown him to his quarters the night before. She was tall and graceful, with long auburn hair that fell in loose waves down her back. Her eyes, a striking shade of green, were kind but held a certain depth that suggested she had seen much in her time as a Keeper.

"Good morning," she said with a warm smile. "High Keeper Elowen has asked me to begin your training today. There is much you need to learn about the power you hold, and the sooner we start, the better."

Aric nodded, feeling a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "What kind of training?"

Lysara stepped aside, motioning for Aric to follow her. "We will start with the basics—understanding the nature of the Flame-Tongue, how to control it, and how to channel it into your weapons and spells. But first, there is someone I would like you to meet."

Curious, Aric followed Lysara through the winding corridors of Emberpeak, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. As they walked, Lysara spoke of the history of the Keepers, how they had been founded centuries ago to guard the secrets of the Flameborn and protect the realm from the wyrms.

"The Keepers of the Flame are more than just warriors," Lysara explained. "We are also scholars, historians, and mages. We preserve the knowledge of the past, study the prophecies, and train those who possess the blood of the Flameborn. Our purpose is to ensure that the power of the Flame-Tongue is never misused, and that it is always wielded for the good of Erinthal."

As they reached the end of a long corridor, Lysara pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a large chamber filled with shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls. In the center of the room, seated at a table covered in parchment and ink, was an elderly man with a long white beard and piercing blue eyes.

"Master Ivor," Lysara said, addressing the man with a respectful nod. "This is Aric, the one we spoke of."

Master Ivor looked up from his work, his eyes narrowing as he studied Aric. "So, you are the young man who drove off a wyrm with the Flame-Tongue," Master Ivor studied Aric with a keen gaze, his eyes sharp despite his age. He was surrounded by ancient texts and magical artifacts, each imbued with a sense of history and power. The chamber was filled with the scent of parchment and ink, a reminder of the knowledge that had been gathered over centuries.

"So, you're the Flameborn," Ivor said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "It's been many years since we've seen one of your kind. Sit, and tell me what you know about the Flame-Tongue."

Aric took a deep breath and sat across from Ivor. "Not much, I'm afraid," he admitted. "All I know is that it came to me in a moment of need. I spoke a word, and it drove the wyrm away. Beyond that, I'm lost."

Ivor nodded slowly, as if considering Aric's words. "The Flame-Tongue is an ancient magic, a remnant of the power of the Flameborn. It's not merely a weapon; it's a conduit for the primordial fire that shaped our world. To wield it properly, you must first understand its nature."