RAVI_RAWAT

In the empire of Aerthalas, dragons are bound by ancient bloodlines to noble families. Only those born of pure royal blood can summon, ride, or even speak to dragons. For centuries, this ensured the nobility’s control over the skies—and the people below.

But everything changes when a dragon egg long thought fossilized hatches in the wilderness, far from the capital. The hatchling chooses you—a commoner, orphaned in a mining village, and barely surviving. The bond is immediate and irreversible.

Suddenly, you're hunted by dragonriders who call you an abomination, courted by rebels who believe you're a prophecy come true, and haunted by dreams of a war that ended before you were born—but might begin again because of you.

THE DRAGON RIDER

The gate closed behind them with a sound like thunder swallowed by stone.

Inside the First Vault, the air shimmered—not with heat, but with memory. This was no mere tomb or treasure hall. It was alive—a breathing monument carved by dragons before time kept records.

Walls flickered with lightless flame, casting no shadows. Pillars stretched into darkness above. Etched into every surface were runes Kael could suddenly read, as if they had always been part of him.

"Only those bound by fire may carry the burden of flame."

Cinder stepped beside him, wings lowered in reverence.

"This place is sacred," he murmured in Kael's thoughts. "My kind remember it through blood. Yours through legend."

Finnel looked around, overwhelmed. "This is older than… everything."

Lira nodded, but her gaze stayed sharp. "That means it's dangerous."

The Trial of Flame

As they walked deeper into the Vault, the path narrowed into a long corridor—its walls lined with statues.

But of dragonriders.

Some stood proud. Some were carved mid-fall, spears through their chests, or heads bowed in sorrow. One bore a face uncannily similar to Kael's.

"This isn't just memory," Cinder whispered. "This is warning."

Suddenly, the statues shifted. Not with motion—but with heat.

From the stone, flames poured forth, forming figures of fireborne riders, their eyes glowing with judgment.

A booming voice echoed, not in the air—but in their bones:

"Will you carry the First Flame? Will you burn for it? Bleed for it? Fall for it?"

The fire didn't burn. It consumed something deeper.

Kael's mind exploded outward—he was no longer in his body.

A silver dragon falling from the heavens.

A throne of bone in a burning sea.

Raven, cloaked in black flame, riding Vraxion with chains forged from dragon hearts.

And then… Kael saw himself, standing alone in the center of a dying world, his rune flaring like a second sun.

"One flame. One world. One cost."

Kael gasped and fell to his knees. The fire retreated.

Lira ran to him. "Kael! What happened?!"

He opened his eyes. They burned gold for a moment—then dimmed.

"The Vault didn't test my strength," he said slowly. "It tested… if I'd break."

Kael looked at his hands. "Not yet."

The Relic Revealed

At the end of the Vault lay a pedestal—hovering above it, a small, pulsing crystal of fire: the Breath of the First Flame.

But as Kael approached, it called to his rune. The entire Vault hummed.

Cinder growled uneasily. "Once you touch it… nothing can undo what comes next."

The moment his fingers brushed the flame, it exploded with light—filling the Vault, the rune on his chest blazing like a miniature sun.

The Vault walls cracked. The statues crumbled. The air trembled.

Chapter 17 – Vault of the First Flame