🔥 The Dragon Baby 🔥

High above the Snowfang Mountains, where the air is thin and the clouds kiss the frozen peaks, a secret older than time itself stirred beneath a shroud of ice.

Deep within a cave sealed by frost and fire magic, a single Crimson Egg lay nestled in glowing embers. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat buried in stone. The egg belonged to Vaelith the Flameheart, the last of the elder fire dragons, her wings now withered, her flame burning low. But she had guarded the egg for nearly a thousand years, waiting for the stars to align and the ancient fire to awaken once more.

Then, one dawn, as the sky ignited in streaks of amber and violet, the egg cracked.

Crack.

Snap.

Hisss...

Out came a tiny dragonling, no larger than a lamb, its scales soft and silver-blue, glowing with a light not of this world. The baby blinked up at its mother, squeaked, and sneezed a puff of smoke.

Vaelith smiled weakly and whispered, “Emberion... you are the spark the world forgot.”

But destiny rarely walks quietly.

The Whisper of Wings

Far to the south, in the iron-fisted kingdom of Velmora, King Darest the Hollow-Eyed sat in his obsidian tower. He had grown old chasing myths—the blood of a dragon, he believed, could grant immortality. When his spies returned with tales of fire flickering atop the frozen cliffs, his heart surged with dark delight.

He dispatched his most ruthless hunter—General Krayt, a man known to wear dragon teeth on a necklace—to climb the mountains and return with the creature. Dead or alive.

Krayt’s soldiers ascended the cliffs, blades sharp and hearts colder than the snow beneath their feet.

They found Vaelith dying.

She had fought fiercely, wings aflame, teeth bared, but age and treachery claimed her. They thought the egg shattered, the cave emptied.

They didn’t notice the tiny dragonling slipping out beneath the snow, trembling, alone… but alive.

Ash and the Orphan

At the base of the mountain lived Lina, a 13-year-old orphan raised by monks in a gray monastery. She never quite fit in—too curious, too wild, and always wandering into the forest where she said the wind “talked to her.”

That morning, as she gathered kindling near the cliffside, she heard a faint whimper, like a wounded bird trapped in a dream.

She followed the sound.

What she found stole her breath.

A dragon. A baby.

Terrified. Cold. Alive.

Lina should have screamed. She should have run. But instead, she knelt beside him. Her hands trembled as she reached out.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

The dragon blinked, then crawled into her arms and curled into a ball.

She named him Ash—for the fire she felt inside him, and the warmth that started to grow inside her.

Hidden Flames

For weeks, Lina hid Ash in the forest, feeding him berries, milk, and stolen meat. He grew quickly—too quickly. His wings strengthened. His scales hardened. His breath steamed in the night.

They played, dreamed, and watched the stars.

But fire cannot stay hidden forever.

One night, a group of soldiers stumbled into the woods. Lina hid, but one soldier raised a sword when he spotted Ash.

The dragon screamed.

A blaze erupted from his throat—a river of living flame. The forest glowed with light. The soldier fled, clothes smoking, face pale.

That night, Lina knew: they would come for him.

The monks warned her. “Turn over the beast. He is cursed. You are only a girl.”

But Lina looked them in the eye and said, “He’s mine.”

The Rise of Skyfire

Under the blood moon, as drums of war echoed from Velmora’s walls, Lina made her choice.

She climbed onto Ash’s back.

He turned, uncertain.

“It’s time,” she whispered. “We fly.”

Ash spread his wings.

The sky trembled.

With a great cry, they lifted into the clouds—girl and dragon, fire and spirit, soaring above the world that tried to chain them.

They became legend.

Some say Lina became the first Sky Rider. Others say her soul merged with Ash’s, and together they were reborn each century to guard the skies.

But all remember this truth:

When the world tried to extinguish the last dragon, a girl rose from the ashes—and taught the sky to burn again.