Chapter 2 - The Flicker of Danger

The day after the village protectors had passed through Solna, the town buzzed with new stories. Children imitated the warriors' marches, waving sticks like swords, while fishermen spoke of distant battles and heroic deeds. The spirit of ambition lingered in the salty air.

Eryon, energized by his newfound dream, spent the morning clambering over the rocky shores, pretending to lead armies against invisible foes. His crimson hair caught the sunlight with every movement, a streak of fire dancing along the coast.

Near the edge of the village, beyond where the fishing boats bobbed gently in the tide, an inlet of darker, deeper waters stretched inland—the "Shadow Cove," as the villagers called it. Stories told of strange beasts that sometimes emerged from its depths, though none had appeared for many years.

Mariel's warnings echoed in Eryon's mind: "Stay away from the Cove, little flame."

But curiosity burned stronger than caution.

With a stick clutched in his hand like a mighty spear, Eryon ventured closer, his bare feet splashing softly in the shallows. He peered into the dark water, eyes wide with wonder.

A sudden ripple.

Then a roar—guttural and monstrous—tore through the air.

From the depths burst a colossal beast, larger than any Eryon had ever imagined. Its scaled body was armored like dark stone, and its gaping maw bristled with rows of jagged teeth. Eyes of sickly yellow locked onto the boy.

The creature surged toward him with terrifying speed.

Eryon stumbled back, frozen in terror. The stick fell uselessly from his grasp. Instinctively, he raised his arms, heart pounding wildly.

The world seemed to shudder.

Deep within him, a hidden force stirred.

A sudden burst of crimson light erupted from Eryon's body, forming a fragile, flickering barrier. The beast struck it head-on, hurling Eryon backward into the wet sand but halting its momentum for a breath.

Before the creature could recover, Daren Solaris was there, placing himself between the beast and his son.

Armed only with a weathered fishing spear, Daren fought with desperate fury. He drove the spear into the creature's flank, drawing a shriek of pain. But the beast retaliated savagely, swiping a massive claw across Daren's side. Blood sprayed into the air.

"Run, Eryon!" Daren roared, standing firm despite the deep gash ripping across his ribs.

Eryon's eyes widened in horror as he watched his father's blood stain the sands.

The village protectors, alerted by the roar, arrived moments later. Their blades flashed, energy techniques blazing as they assaulted the beast from all sides. It took a coordinated assault, and three wounded warriors, before the monster was finally driven back into the ocean's depths.

Mariel reached Eryon first, pulling him into her arms, her voice choked with sobs.

Meanwhile, Daren, pale and grimacing, was helped to the healer's hut, leaving a trail of crimson in his wake.

That night, as the village mended wounds and buried their fear under forced laughter, Eryon sat beside his father's cot, watching the slow, pained rise and fall of Daren's chest.

The sun was setting outside, painting the sky with fierce streaks of red and gold.

"I want to be strong, Papa," Eryon whispered, tears brimming in his golden eyes. "Strong enough that no one has to bleed because of me. Strong enough to protect everyone."

Daren, his voice hoarse, managed a faint, proud smile.

"Then we begin... tomorrow," he rasped.

And beneath the vast, burning sky, the first true ember of Eryon's destiny blazed to life—fueled not by dreams of glory, but by a solemn vow born of blood and fire.