THE CALL THAT CANNOT BE REFUSED
The night was cold, too cold for that time of year. Zyrion wandered aimlessly, his hand on his wounded side. The bandage was damp, not only with blood, but with that strange white light that seemed to flow like an impossible river from within him. The moon cast a half-light on him, and each step kicked up dry dust on the path.
He stopped by a stream, bending down to drink, but when he saw his reflection in the water, he froze. For a moment, his eyes were not his own. They were white, completely, like two bottomless shards of glass.
"This... isn't mine," she murmured, touching her face. "What's happening to me?"
The wind blew hard, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. And in that gust, Zyrion heard something else: a distant murmur, almost as if the mountains themselves were speaking.
"Master... Dragon..."
Zyrion sat bolt upright, his heart pounding wildly. His breathing was heavy, as if he had been running for hours, but his feet were motionless.
"Who's there?" he shouted, though his voice trembled in the darkness. "Show yourself!"
The stream began to stir on its own, forming concentric circles that vibrated as if something were about to emerge. But it wasn't a monster, nor an enemy. It was an image, a flash on the liquid surface: a man kneeling beneath a stormy sky, his hands clutching a fragment of lightning.
Zyrion stared at him, fascinated. The man's scream pierced through time, and he felt it deep in his bones.
"The first one…" whispered a voice from nowhere.
Zyrion gritted his teeth, his forehead covered in cold sweat. "What am I seeing? Why me?"
The reflection shifted. Now he saw another man, in a white robe, walking among endless dunes, followed by dragons that didn't roar, but bowed before him. His pace was slow, but every movement made the air vibrate as if the world itself recognized him.
Zyrion took a step back, stumbling over a rock. "That man... who is he?"
The water responded with a deep, calm voice, as clear as if someone were speaking inside its mind.
"The Dragon Master."
Zyrion swallowed, his fists clenched. "Why are you showing it to me? What do I have to do with it?"
The wind lashed the place again. This time it wasn't a whisper, but a roar, like thunder tearing through the still sky. Zyrion's body trembled, and the wound in his side glowed brighter, the white light expanding as if trying to escape him.
She fell to her knees, gasping, her fingers digging into the damp earth. "No... I don't want this. I didn't ask for this."
And then, in the midst of the pain, another voice appeared. It wasn't deep, nor distant. It was clear, close, as if someone were right behind him.
"Zyrion... do you fear what you already are?"
He turned around quickly, but there was no one there. Only dark trees and the murmur of the stream.
His breathing was erratic, but he answered aloud, as if that presence could still hear him. "I don't know who I am. Or what they expect of me. I just... want to understand."
Silence enveloped him for what felt like an eternity, until finally he heard a last murmur, soft as the night breeze:
"The lightning... the secret... the dragon. It's all within you."
Zyrion stood motionless, staring at the reflection of the moon in the water, which now seemed to transform into a white eye watching him.
The air grew unbearably thick. The wound burned like both fire and ice, and his mind was filled with chaotic images: storms splitting in two, dragons roaring under a single name, an immense crystal shattering into fragments.
Zyrion closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth, until finally he collapsed backward onto the damp grass, exhausted. His chest rose and fell slowly, and although he didn't want to admit it, he knew it deep down:
It wasn't a dream.
It was not a hallucination.
It was a calling.
And that calling had a name: Dragon Master .
The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains, bathing the skies in a crimson and gold glow. The wind was cool, carrying the scent of pines and the damp moss that carpeted the path Caelithra walked along. The light reflected in her dark hair, and her deep, attentive eyes seemed to gaze beyond the visible, as if searching for answers hidden in the very mist that drifted among the trees.
Her steps were slow, measured, heavy with thought. It had been too long since she'd last seen Zyrion and the others. In her mind, the images returned again and again: the fire, the battles, the shouts, and Zyrion's gaze, that gaze laden with something even she couldn't quite decipher.
Caelithra stopped before a lake hidden among rocks. The water was still, like a perfect mirror reflecting the open sky. She leaned slightly, letting her fingers brush the surface, and the circle of ripples that formed there spread out as if carrying her own thoughts to the horizon.
"Zyrion... where are you now?" he murmured softly, letting out a sigh. "You always seem so strong, but I know you also carry more than anyone should have to bear. Will you still stand? Or have your wounds already claimed you more than I can imagine?"
She stared at the water for a long time. Then she let herself fall to the shore, her legs crossed and her shawl gathered to one side. She closed her eyes, listening only to the murmur of the wind rustling through the treetops. And then, as she often did in her moments of solitude, she began to talk to herself, as if conversing with the memories of those who were no longer by her side.
"I always wondered if I made the right decision to go my own way. I left the group behind at a time when perhaps they needed me most. But... didn't I also need to find my own path? Or was it simply an escape? Zyrion trusted everyone so much, even me, and I... couldn't bear that burden."
The water stirred again with a gust of wind. Caelithra lay back on the grass, gazing now at the open sky that was beginning to darken. And as the first stars emerged, her voice sounded again, soft, but laden with a profound weight.
"Perhaps he thinks I abandoned him. Perhaps he believes I betrayed him. But in my heart… I never did. If I could speak to him right now, I would tell him that I never stopped believing in his strength, even though my path led me far from his. What will he think of me? Will he hold a grudge? Or will he still see me as someone he can trust?"
A branch cracked not far away. Caelithra sprang to her feet, her hand instinctively searching for the hilt of her dagger. There was no threat, however: only a deer drinking water on the opposite bank. She released the breath she had been holding and offered a small smile.
"Always on guard... right, Caelithra? Even when there's no real danger," she said to herself, sitting back down.
As she watched the deer, she recalled the moments she had shared with the group. Karion's laughter, Kyrahna's awkward silences, Zyrion's curious gaze as he tried to understand every corner of the world. All of it echoed vividly in her memory. And she couldn't help but begin to imagine a conversation she had never been able to have with him.
"Zyrion… if you were here, you would ask me why I left. Perhaps you would look at me with those eyes of yours, serious yet warm, and say, 'You didn't have to carry all of this alone, Caelithra.' And I would answer that it wasn't for you, or for the others… it was for me. Because I needed to know who I am, beyond what is expected of me. I needed to hear my own voice amidst so much noise."
A tear, silent and barely perceptible, rolled down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. She let it fall, like someone releasing a weight hidden for too long.
"But even so... I miss being with you all. I miss the nights by the fire, the aimless journeys, even the arguments. And I wonder if I'll ever walk beside you again, even for a moment."
Night fell completely. The sky filled with stars, and the moon illuminated the lake with a silvery glow. Caelithra lit a small fire and wrapped herself in her cloak. The warmth brought her some calm, but her mind remained restless.
"If I could see you again, Zyrion... just one more time..." she whispered as sleep began to envelop her.
The fire crackled softly, the lake remained serene, and the mountains were silent. Caelithra fell asleep beneath that blanket of stars, unaware that somewhere in the world, Zyrion was also thinking of her, even though their paths were now separate.
The prophecy began long before Calessia.