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 moment Kael touched the Breath of the First Flame, the Vault erupted with light.

Not heat. Not fire. Something older. Purer.

Cinder roared as the power surged. Lira and Finnel were thrown back by a shockwave that cracked the ground and etched glowing runes in the stone walls.

His body was frozen mid-reach, suspended in the air—eyes wide, rune pulsing like a beating heart. The flame wasn't just entering him.

It was remaking him.

Inside the light, Kael stood… alone.

No Cinder. No Vault. Just a horizonless field of glowing ash, and in the distance—a figure.

A man, cloaked in molten gold and tattered red robes. His face was covered by a helm of dragonbone.

"You have chosen to burn. Then you must carry what we could not."

"Who are you?" Kael asked.

The figure extended his hand, and Kael saw memories—flashes of the First Rider, of dragons chained to mountains, of cities turned to cinder not by monsters… but by riders drunk on their own power.

"You are the last to carry it. If you fail… the world ends in flame, again."

Return from the Light

Kael fell to the ground with a gasp. The Vault trembled.

His body felt different—stronger, yes, but heavier. The rune on his chest now bore new branches, pulsing with golden threads of flame.

Cinder rushed forward, lowering his snout.

"Barely," Kael muttered, blinking. "What happened to me?"

"You've become… a true Flamebearer. You hold a spark of the origin fire."

Lira helped him stand. "You passed the trial. But we need to move. Fast."

Finnel pointed toward the gate, his face pale. "We're not alone anymore."

Outside, the sky had turned crimson.

Far to the north, Raven stood atop a blackened altar. Vraxion loomed behind him, eyes glowing like coals in a furnace.

A cultist knelt. "Shall we strike?"

"Not yet. Let the boy think he's ascended. We'll take the flame from his ashes."

He turned toward a cracked mirror, where Kael's image flickered faintly.

Kael's vision shimmered—and for a single breath, he saw Raven, smiling.

The Vault collapsed behind them as they fled, sealing the ancient chamber forever.

They emerged into twilight, smoke curling in the distance. The world was no longer waiting for them—it was reacting to them.

The stars above burned brighter, as if watching.

"This is just the beginning," he said.

They flew—toward the storm, toward the war, and toward the secret waiting behind the next gate.

Chapter 18 – Burden of the Flame