𝒜 ℋℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓁ℯ𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝓉ℯℯ𝓁

Prologue - Ava

Death.

That's all I saw. Blood, death, and more death.

The whole dragon village was up in flames, thick black smoke rising into the sky, choking out the stars. What was once a beautiful and thriving sanctuary, where dragons could roam free, was now a battlefield. The roars of my kin echoed through the night, desperate and filled with anguish.

Humans.

They were everywhere, brandishing swords and torches, their faces twisted with fear and hatred. They always saw dragons as a threat. The moment they laid eyes on something stronger, something more powerful, they called it a menace that had to be destroyed. Why? The dragons had done nothing wrong. At least, not the dragons I knew. Everyone I grew up with cherished peace, the freedom to fly, and the quiet life in the forest. But now...

Everyone is gone.

I remember little me—no older than six or seven—running through the village as the fires raged higher and the screams of my people filled the air. I was small then, my wings not yet strong enough to carry me into the sky. I had no choice but to run.

Run... and hope I could find my parents.

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"Mommy! Daddy!" I screamed, my voice hoarse from crying, "Where are you?! Please!"

My heart pounded in my chest as I stumbled through the wreckage of what was once our home. The roof had caved in, and the walls were charred black, leaving nothing but ash and debris. My feet crunched over broken wood and glass, but I barely noticed. My eyes were frantically searching for any sign of them.

"Mommy!" I shouted again, my throat raw. "Daddy!"

But there was no answer. Only the crackle of flames and the distant sound of swords clashing outside. The village had become a battlefield, and I was lost in the chaos. I couldn't understand why this was happening. My parents had always taught me to be kind to humans, to avoid confrontation, and live in harmony. We never wanted war. So why were they attacking us?

I ran to the backyard, my last hope. Maybe they had escaped, maybe they were hiding back there, waiting for me. As I approached the door, my heart leapt in my chest when I heard my father's voice.

"Daddy!" I cried, rushing toward the sound, ready to throw myself into his arms.

But then I saw it.

Through the cracked window, I saw my father standing in front of my mother, his wings outstretched to shield her. His silver scales glimmered in the firelight, but they were stained with blood. And there, facing him, was a human. A man. He was tall, dressed in dark armor, and on his head sat a crown—a king's crown.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched in horror.

The human raised his sword with a cold, swift motion. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, the blade came down in a flash of steel. My father let out a roar of pain, the sound piercing through the night like a dagger to my heart. The sword drove deep into his chest, and he staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound.

"Daddy!" I screamed, but my voice was lost in the chaos.

My legs trembled as I stood frozen in place, my small hands gripping the edge of the broken window. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was watch as my father collapsed to the ground, the life draining from his eyes. My mother's scream followed, a sound so raw and broken it echoed in my ears long after.

The king didn't hesitate. He turned his gaze to my mother next, his eyes cold and unforgiving. His sword gleamed with the blood of my father, and I knew what was coming.

"No..." I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "Please... don't..."

I wanted to burst through the door, to run to them, to do something—anything—but I was just a child. A child who could do nothing but watch as her world crumbled.

The king raised his sword again, this time aimed at my mother. She didn't cower. She didn't beg. Her eyes were filled with grief, but there was no fear. She stood tall, her scales glistening like polished emeralds, her wings folded against her back. In that moment, she looked regal—like the queen she had always been in my eyes.

But no amount of bravery could stop what was about to happen.

With a swift, merciless strike, the king brought the sword down.

And my mother fell.

I let out a strangled cry, the pain ripping through me like nothing I had ever felt before. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Everything was gone. My family, my home, my village—all destroyed in a matter of moments.

Through blurred vision, I saw the king standing over their bodies, his expression unreadable. He wiped his sword on my father's wing, as if the blood was nothing more than dirt, before turning and walking away, his footsteps heavy on the charred ground.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to curse his name, to vow revenge for what he had done. But all I could feel was emptiness. A deep, hollow void where my heart used to be.

I was alone. Truly, utterly alone.

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I don't remember much after that. The fire eventually died down, and the humans left, their swords sheathed, their job done. I crawled through the ruins of my home, my tiny hands covered in ash and blood. I found my parents' bodies, cold and still, and I stayed there with them for what felt like hours. Days, maybe. I didn't know. Time had lost all meaning.

When the sun finally rose, it brought no warmth. No comfort. Just the harsh reality that everything I had ever known was gone.

That was the day I stopped being a child.