The sky burned.
Flames licked the edge of a crumbling battlefield. Smoke curled in spirals through the air, and the screams of creatures—some human, some not—echoed through the chaos.
In the heart of the inferno stood a colossal dragon.
Its scales shimmered like molten gold, wings torn, chest heaving with labored breath. Behind it, the shadow of a hybrid creature—half-dragon, half-man—fought off encroaching darkness, shielding the dying beast with its last ounce of strength.
Artemis stood frozen in the midst of it all, untouched by fire but paralyzed by the weight of something ancient and vast.
Then the dragon turned its massive head.
Its eyes, deep as oceans and old as time, locked onto his.
"Artemis…"
The voice wasn't spoken. It resonated, shaking the earth, the sky, his soul.
"You must remember who you are…"
The battlefield fell silent. The fire no longer roared—it listened.
"The blood of flame runs through you. The world will burn… or be saved… by your choice."
The sky cracked open above them, light bursting from the void like a dying star.
And then—everything collapsed.
---
Artemis awoke with a start, gasping.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, damp with sweat. The pendant around his neck was pulsing with faint red-orange light, warm like the final ember of a dying fire. He stared at it.
This wasn't just a dream anymore.
Something—someone—was calling him.
He sat up, breathing heavily, the voice echoing still in his mind. "You must remember…"
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the floorboards. His fingers twitched. Without realizing, he grabbed a scrap of paper and began to draw: horns, burning eyes, ancient wings.
When he finished, he held the rough sketch up to the morning light.
It was the same dragon from the dream.
---
The village of elmsworth stirred gently with the rising sun. Smoke curled from chimneys, the scent of fresh bread and dew blending into the soft breeze. Roosters crowed in the distance, and a cart creaked along the cobbled path, carrying barrels of grain.
Artemis made his way to the well, bucket in hand, still half-entranced by the memory of his dream. The pendant remained warm beneath his shirt, like a hidden coal beneath ash.
He greeted a few villagers with polite nods—Mrs. Lemora, who runs a small bakery, gave him a smile and a slice of bread . Old Man Tren waved from his porch, as usual, mumbling something about goats and sky spirits.
"Morning, dreamer."
The familiar voice came from behind the water trough.
Arion.
He was leaning casually against the edge of the fence, arms folded, a half-eaten apple in one hand. His long brown hair was tied back today, and a glint of amusement danced in his bright, otherworldly eyes.
"You look like you just saw the end of the world," Arion added, tossing the apple core into a bush.
"Close," Artemis muttered, pulling up the bucket and splashing his face.
Arion raised a brow. "Dragon dreams again?"
Artemis didn't respond immediately. He handed the bucket to a waiting child, then sat beside Arion, elbows resting on his knees.
"It spoke to me," he finally said. "Not just flashes or shapes. It said my name. Told me to remember who I am."
Arion's grin faded.
"You're serious."
"I've never been more sure."
There was silence for a moment, the kind that sat heavy between friends who knew too much but said too little.
"Maybe it's finally time you talked to the old seer," Arion offered quietly. "You've been dodging the signs long enough."
"I was planning to."
"You were?"
Artemis nodded. "Kael brought him up this morning too. It's like… everything's pushing me there."
"Good." Arion leaned back against the fence. "Because no pendant glows like that for just anyone. And you're not a normal farm boy. You never were."
"That obvious, huh?" Artemis said dryly.
"You literally hum with energy," Arion said, pointing at the pendant through Artemis's shirt. "Even the forest animals move differently around you. You're like a campfire in the middle of winter—everyone can feel it, even if they don't know why."
Artemis smirked slightly, but the expression didn't last.
"I'm scared, Arion. If this is real… if I really am tied to that creature, that battlefield… What if I burn everything down?"
Arion's tone turned quiet.
"Then don't."
Artemis looked at him.
"Just because you carry fire doesn't mean you're meant to destroy. Maybe you're meant to guard the light."
---
Back at the house, Mira was chopping vegetables for stew, humming an old song. The scent of thyme and garlic filled the kitchen.
"You're late," she said without looking up.
"Ran into Arion at the well."
"Did you bring the apples I asked for?"
His sister lyra helping his mother for making stew.
"Looks like big brother is hiding something"
Lyra whispered.
Artemis hesitated, then quickly fished them from his satchel. Mira took them with a nod but eyed him curiously.
"You've had that look all morning."
"What look?"
"The 'I've-seen-a-ghost-or-worse' look."
He chuckled softly but said nothing. Mira didn't press further. She simply handed him a basket.
"Take this to Elder Merrow's house. His joints are acting up again."
Artemis accepted it with a quiet "Alright," then paused.
"Mom"
"Hm?"
"If I… if I found out I wasn't who I thought I was… would you still see me the same?"
She stopped chopping.
Then turned to face him, wiping her hands on her apron.
She stepped forward and placed a hand gently over his heart.
"But you're still Artemis. The boy I raised. The boy who once cried when a bird fell from its nest. No dream, no prophecy, no glowing pendant can change that."
Artemis blinked hard. "Thanks, Mom."
---
Later that afternoon, with the weight of his thoughts pressing heavier, Artemis found himself at the edge of the forest.
The wind stirred through the trees, the shadows deeper than before, as if waiting.
Heir of fire…
The whisper returned, softer this time, like a breeze through embers.
His pendant glowed again, and this time, a faint symbol shimmered beneath his skin on the back of his hand—a crescent entwined with a flame.
It faded as quickly as it came.
Artemis took a breath and stepped forward.
The truth wasn't waiting in the village.
It was waiting in the shadows.