The Last Dragon Rider

Chapter 1 : The Fallen Star

"The roar of dragons has faded, their fire extinguished, and the skies left empty by shadow's cruel hand. Yet, in the silence of defeat, a single ember remains. One day, a new Rider will rise, and the flames of hope shall burn once more."
                                                      — Caelum

   • The evening sky above the small farming village of Hillshade glimmered softly, blanketed by countless stars. Salomon, a young farm boy, leaned against the fence of his family's field, gazing up at the heavens. The quiet of the night settled around him, familiar and comforting. Life in Hillshade was simple and predictable, with each day flowing into the next in a steady, unchanging rhythm. For Salomon, the world beyond his fields and the towering hills seemed distant—places of adventure and magic were things of stories, not his reality.

But lately, something felt different. Restlessness had been stirring in his chest, a longing he couldn’t name. As if, somehow, the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. He had tried to brush it off, chalking it up to dreams of knights and heroics from tales his mother used to tell. Yet, tonight, the feeling was stronger than ever, humming under his skin.

Lost in thought, Salomon’s gaze drifted to the sky again. That’s when he saw it—a light cutting through the darkness, brighter than any star. It was like a falling star, but fiercer, burning with a fire that seemed almost alive. The air around him crackled as if charged, and the hair on his arms stood on end. Salomon watched, mesmerized, as the light streaked closer, descending rapidly toward the far end of his family’s field.
  
   "What in the world.."
Then, with a deafening crash, it hit. The ground trembled beneath his feet, sending a shockwave through the soil that nearly knocked him down. A brilliant glow erupted from the impact site, flooding the field with an eerie light. Heart pounding, Salomon scrambled over the fence and sprinted towards the source, his feet carrying him faster than he thought possible.

When he finally reached the crater, the air was thick with heat and something else—something ancient. There, at the heart of the smoldering impact, lay a massive egg. Its surface shimmered with deep crimson and gold hues, flickering as if lit from within by a living flame. The egg radiated warmth that drove away the cold night air. Salomon stared, breathless and wide-eyed.

   "An..egg?"
This was no ordinary egg. It was something more—something that would change everything.

Without thinking, Salomon reached out, his fingertips grazing the shell’s hot surface. As soon as his hand made contact, the egg pulsed. Fire surged through his body, but it didn’t burn; instead, it filled him with a fierce, overwhelming energy. Before he could pull away, the egg blazed brighter, enveloping him in a halo of red light. He gasped, stumbling back as pain and power collided in his chest. He looked down, eyes wide with shock, as a fiery mark appeared over his heart—a flame-shaped symbol that burned with a scarlet hue before it faded into his skin, settling like a tattoo etched over his heart.

The egg shuddered, the crimson glow fading rapidly until only a dull red remained. Then, with a final flicker, the light died completely, leaving the egg dim and silent. It was as if something had been drained from it, leaving only a hollow shell.

Salomon stood trembling, his heart racing, the mark on his chest still warm. Somehow, he knew: the egg had chosen him. They were bound, connected by some ancient magic. He had no idea what that meant, but the realization both awed and terrified him.

Before he could fully grasp what had just happened, a voice called out behind him.

   “Salomon! What are you doing out here?”
His mother’s voice, urgent and laced with worry, cut through the night. Salomon turned to see her rushing across the field, lantern in hand. Mira, a strong yet gentle woman with hair the color of wheat, had always been the heart of their little family. She was followed closely by his father, Garron, a towering man with broad shoulders and a presence that could make even the most stubborn ox submit. The family dog, Bram, a large, shaggy mutt with a deep bark, bounded beside them, ears pricked forward as if sensing the unusual.

   “I-I saw something fall,”
Salomon stammered, pointing to the egg. Mira’s eyes widened as the light from her lantern fell upon the strange, now dim object. Garron stepped forward cautiously, shielding his wife and son as he surveyed the crater with narrowed eyes.

“What in the gods’ name…”
Garron murmured, his voice low and reverent. His gaze swept over the egg’s now lifeless surface, and his expression shifted from shock to something deeper—a dawning realization that sent a shiver down Salomon’s spine.

   “This isn’t something from this world,”
Mira whispered, clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Bram whimpered softly, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air.
   “It’s a dragon’s egg,” Garron said quietly.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Salomon’s heart skipped a beat. Dragons were creatures of legend—beings that existed only in old stories of war and heroism. But as he looked at the egg, now silent and dark, and felt the warmth still lingering in his chest, he knew, without a doubt, that his father was right.
   “Dragons are extinct,”
Mira murmured, her face pale.
   “They have been for decades. There hasn’t been a Rider since…”

   “Since the Dark King, Morvaen, and his shadow beast consumed them all,”
Garron finished grimly, his voice tightening. He glanced down at Salomon, then back at the egg.
  
   “But this one is here, right now.”
His eyes lingered on Salomon’s chest, narrowing as he noticed something beneath the fabric of his shirt.
   “What’s that?” Garron asked sharply, stepping closer. Without waiting for an answer, he gently but firmly tugged Salomon’s collar aside, revealing the faint outline of the fiery tattoo.

The mark shimmered slightly in the moonlight, a delicate pattern of flames, as if still cooling from a forge’s heat. Garron’s expression hardened as realization dawned.
   “By the gods…” he whispered, voice rough with shock and fear.
   “It marked you.”

Salomon swallowed, staring at his father.
   “What does that mean?”

   “It means,” Garron said slowly, his gaze never leaving the mark,
   “that you’re the egg’s chosen Rider, Salomon.”

Mira’s breath hitched, her hand flying to her mouth.
   “No,” she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief.
   “But...he’s just a child. How can this be?”

   “I don’t know,” Garron replied, still staring at the mark as if it held all the answers.
   “But one thing’s certain. If anyone finds out about this, Salomon’s life is in danger.”

   “We have to hide it,” Mira said, her voice trembling.
   “And him.”

Salomon looked between his parents, confusion and fear swirling in his chest.         
   “Hide me? From who?”

   “From everyone,” Garron said grimly. He turned, staring down at the dim egg.  
   “Because if the Dark King learns that a dragon survived and a new Dragon Rider has risen, he’ll stop at nothing to destroy you both.”

Salomon’s heart pounded in his chest. The idea of being a Rider—a hero of legend—was dizzying. But now, staring into his father’s grim eyes, the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. He wasn’t just some farm boy anymore.

He was the last hope of a dying order. The Last Dragon Rider.