𝒜 ℋℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓁ℯ𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝓉ℯℯ𝓁

Chapter Nine - Asher

Chapter Nine - Asher

The weeks following my first successful dragon hunt passed in a blur of steel and fire. One hunt after another, I carved my name deeper into the annals of Evervale's history. Dragons had been terrorizing the outer villages for months, but with every hunt, with every victory, the threats dwindled, and the people began to speak my name with reverence. Asher, Prince of Evervale. The dragon slayer.

Each hunt brought with it a different challenge. Some dragons were vicious and wild, attacking anything in sight with a primal fury that rattled even the bravest warriors. Others were older, cunning, and wise, using the terrain to their advantage, forcing me to rely on both strength and strategy. The very ground beneath my feet became a partner in the hunt, shifting and changing as I navigated the treacherous landscapes of our kingdom. But no matter the beast, my resolve never wavered. My father's approval lingered in the back of my mind, urging me forward like a distant beacon. The weight of his expectations felt lighter with every success, but in its place grew a gnawing sense of responsibility. I wasn't just hunting dragons anymore—I was becoming the kingdom's protector.

With each successful hunt, I returned to the palace under the weight of heavy armor, the metal still warm from battle, charred and battered. The scent of smoke clung to me, mingling with the sweat of exertion, as if it had seeped into my very skin. Each time I entered the grand hall, the palace staff would bow slightly, their eyes filled with admiration, though I always caught a hint of fear too. It was strange, the way people looked at you when they knew you had faced down a creature of legend. As if I had become something less human, something more monstrous.

But despite the thrill of the hunt, despite the victories, there was an unease growing inside me. It started small, like a whisper in the back of my mind, a flickering shadow that danced just beyond my conscious thoughts. With every dragon I killed, I couldn't help but wonder if there was something we were missing. The dragons were becoming more erratic, more desperate. It was as if they were fleeing from something, not just attacking mindlessly. And though I never voiced these thoughts aloud, the pattern was there, unmistakable. The questions hung in the air around me, and each time I faced a new beast, the weight of their unanswered echoes pressed down on my shoulders.

I tried to ignore it, focusing on my next hunt, on the next victory. The thrill of battle provided a temporary reprieve from my doubts, but then, one evening, I was summoned to my father's study.

It was rare for my father to call on me directly. Usually, it was through an advisor or one of the royal messengers, but this time, the message had come straight from him. I knew something was different before I even stepped into the room. My heart quickened as I approached the heavy oak door, a sense of foreboding gnawing at my insides.

The study was dimly lit, as it often was, the flickering flames of the candles casting long shadows across the stone walls. King Darius sat behind his large oak desk, his face illuminated by the soft glow. His brow was furrowed, his gaze fixed on a scroll spread out before him. When I entered, he didn't look up immediately. He was deep in thought, his fingers tracing the edge of the map in front of him.

"Father," I said, my voice steady as I bowed my head slightly. "You summoned me?"

At the sound of my voice, he looked up, his eyes sharp and calculating as they met mine. There was something different in his expression, something that made the air feel heavier in the room, as if the very walls were holding their breath. He motioned for me to sit, and I did, feeling the weight of whatever was to come settling over me like a heavy cloak.

"Asher," he began, his tone measured, "your hunts have been successful. More successful than I had even hoped." There was a note of pride in his voice, but it was overshadowed by something else—something colder, more serious, a shadow lurking just beneath the surface.