Dragon's Rise

PART 1: OF STORMS AND SHADOWS

୨⎯ RIELLE DAMARIS ⎯୧
20 YEARS AGO

The cold was sharper than any blade. It sank deep into her skin, gnawed at her bones, and stole her breath with every gust of icy wind. Snow fell in relentless waves, swirling like a ghostly veil across the jagged peaks of the Forbidden Mountains. The world was white and endless, every direction the same—a labyrinth of frost and despair.

Rielle Damaris trudged through the knee-deep snow, her silken gown—a garment fit for the court, not the wilds—torn and sodden around her legs. Each step was agony. Her boots, thin-soled and already soaked through, offered no protection from the biting cold. The damned servants hadn't even given her a cloak before they cast her out. No provisions, no furs—just a whispered prayer from one trembling maid and averted gazes from the rest.

Her breath came in ragged clouds, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she climbed. She had no destination, no plan. All she knew was that she couldn't stop moving. To stop was to freeze. To stop was to die.

The wind howled through the peaks like a living thing, a cruel and mournful wail. Her midnight blue hair, matted with ice and plastered to her face, stung her pale cheeks with each icy lash.

I would never harm my kingdom. The thought was as fierce as it was bitter. Rielle clenched her teeth, anger flaring in her chest despite the cold. She would never betray Northcrest, never betray her people. Yet here she was, exiled like a criminal, banished to the desolate edge of the kingdom.

Her father, King Corbyn, had stood unmoving on the throne as the council declared her guilty. Not even her mother, Queen Marcella, had spoken in her defense. Rielle had screamed until her voice broke, denying the accusations of treason, of destruction, of bringing ruin upon the kingdom. But their faces had been stone.

She stumbled over a jagged rock hidden beneath the snow, crashing to her knees. Pain flared up her leg, but she bit back the cry that threatened to escape. Tears burned in her eyes, but they froze on her lashes before they could fall.

For a moment, she stayed there, kneeling in the snow, her shoulders trembling with rage and despair. They didn't believe me. They never believed me.

The mountains loomed above her, their peaks shrouded in stormclouds. The air was thin and sharp, each breath a struggle. The Forbidden Mountains had always been a place of fear, a name spoken in hushed tones in the halls of Northcrest. They were said to be cursed, a graveyard of the gods' wrath, a place where the unworthy met their end.

Perhaps her father thought this punishment poetic. She, the disgraced daughter, left to die in the bones of a world long abandoned.

But Rielle wasn't ready to die.

She pushed herself to her feet, her fingers trembling as she gripped a jagged boulder for balance. Ahead, the snowstorm blurred her vision, but she thought she could make out a shadowy expanse—perhaps a cave, or an overhang. Shelter, if nothing else.

Her legs burned as she forced them to move, dragging herself toward the shadow. The wind fought her, as if the mountains themselves sought to keep her out. She refused to yield.

When she finally reached the entrance, she collapsed against the rock wall, her body trembling violently. It was a cave, narrow and dark, but it was enough. Enough to keep the storm at bay, at least for a moment.

As she huddled against the stone, her breath ragged and her fingers numb, she closed her eyes. For the first time since she'd been cast out, she allowed herself to cry. Silent, frozen tears that mingled with the frost.

Her heart burned with resentment. Toward her father, her mother, her council. Toward the gods who had abandoned her, the kingdom that had turned against her.

But beneath it all, a single ember remained—a spark of something more powerful than anger, more enduring than pain.

I will prove them wrong. I will survive this. And when I return, they will see who I truly am.

The wind howled outside, as if mocking her resolve, but Rielle lifted her head. Somewhere in the storm, something ancient stirred. Something powerful. The Forbidden Mountains were not just a prison—they were alive, and she had trespassed.

Unbeknownst to her, the dragons were watching.