Among the Living

Chapter One: Awakening the Beast

“There weren't always dragons in the Valley.”

The words echoed from the darkness, ragged and breathless. Elora's pulse quickened, and her grip tightened on the hilt of her Ghoststrike blade. She could barely make out the shape of the figure just beyond the dim light of the fire.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Her voice shook, but she stood her ground, pulling the blade from her worn boots. The metallic ring of the weapon's edge was her only reassurance.

A low, menacing chuckle came from the shadows, followed by the figure’s venomous voice. “You... Your people brought them here. You cursed this land with your sorcery! And now you’ll all pay.”

The stranger’s voice reverberated through the cavern, agitating the bats roosting above. Their frantic wingbeats filled the air like a thousand whispered warnings.

“I’m here to end this!” The figure lunged from the shadows, his club raised high above his head, aimed for the unconscious figure lying near the fire.

“Ludo!” Elora’s scream tore from her throat as she flung herself between the attacker and the old man. She twisted mid-air, her blade slicing into the assailant’s neck, just above his collarbone. He fell back, a gurgled shout escaping his lips.

But it was too late.

Ludo, her mentor—no, her father—lay still. His blood seeped into the cracked earth beneath them, pooling around his head, coating his weathered face. Elora's chest tightened as she knelt beside him, her shaking hands cradling his head.

“Father... no,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t do this without you. Please, Ludo... don't leave me.”

Tears threatened, but she fought them back. There was no time for grief. Not now.

Her moment of distraction cost her dearly. The man she had struck down was not finished yet. A blow struck the back of her head with bone-crushing force, sending her sprawling to the ground. The world spun violently, stars dancing in her vision as blood flowed from the wound.

The ringing in her ears drowned out the world. She couldn’t think, couldn’t hear. She was helpless.

“Let’s start again,” the stranger said, standing over her, his voice thick with malice. “My name is Liam. I am here to avenge the lives your people took with your cursed dragons.”

Elora blinked through the haze, her eyes struggling to focus on Liam’s contorted face. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Pain radiated through her skull, but something deeper gnawed at her—an impending dread that crawled up from the pit of her stomach.

Liam’s eyes burned with hatred. “Before I kill you, I want to know why. Why did you summon the beasts?” His voice cracked as desperation seeped into his words.

But Elora couldn’t answer him, even if she wanted to.

The rumbling started softly beneath the rock. It was a low, deep vibration that resonated through her bones, barely perceptible. But she knew.

They’re coming.

Her breath caught in her throat as the ground beneath her trembled. The dragons were close, drawn by the sounds of death and fury. She had felt this tremor before, but now, she could do nothing but watch as Liam, oblivious to the threat, continued to shout at her.

“Woman! Answer me!”

The younglings arrived first. They slipped through the jagged cracks in the cavern walls, their tiny bodies barely making a sound as they scampered up the rock face. The bats above fluttered in panic as the small dragons devoured them, their shrieks filling the air.

Elora's heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming at her body to move, to run, to do something. But her limbs refused to obey. She lay paralyzed, her eyes locked on the chaos unfolding above her.

Liam had finally noticed the shifting shadows. He stopped mid-rant, turning slowly as the cavern filled with the scent of sulfur and blood. The younglings retreated as a monstrous form filled the chamber, blocking the only exit.

A dragon.

Not just any dragon, but the fearsome Wyrm of legend, the undisputed king of the skies, whose very presence instilled terror in the hearts of mortals. His scales glistened like obsidian in the firelight, each horn on his head twisting in different directions, moving with an eerie, unnatural fluidity. His long body snaked around the cavern, and his massive talons scraped the stone floor with a deafening screech.

Liam’s face drained of color. His hand tightened around his club, but it was a futile gesture. The beast was far beyond anything his meager weapon could challenge.

With a roar, Liam charged the dragon.

Elora wanted to scream, to warn him, to beg him to stop. But her voice failed her, and all she could do was watch in horror as the dragon’s talon came down, pinning Liam to the ground.

The dragon moved with terrifying precision. It toyed with him, pressing its weight down slowly, savoring the way Liam’s body strained against the pressure. Then, with a single sharp twist, it drove its talon through his chest.

Elora’s stomach lurched as Liam’s body jerked violently, blood spraying across the cavern floor. The dragon tore into him methodically, limb by limb, as if savoring its meal.

Elora tried to close her eyes, to block out the horror, but her body betrayed her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink. All she could do was watch as the dragon feasted.

She was next.

The realization sent a wave of cold dread through her. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest, each beat a reminder of her impending death. The cavern spun around her, the sound of her own shallow breaths mixing with the deafening silence of the dead.

Then, everything went black.