Chapter 1 – The Three Eggs
The initiates gathered at dawn on the black sand beach where the Ashridge Mountains met the Crying Sea. There were eleven of them, though Kael suspected not all would return.
"Remember," said Torvald, rolling his scarred shoulders beneath his leather armor, "the egg must be taken before it hatches. After, it's just meat and shell." He was one of the Imbued—twenty years ago, he'd claimed a fire egg from the dragon Inferax's clutch. His eyes still glowed faintly orange when he was angry, and he could hold red-hot metal in his bare hands.
Kael nodded along with the others, trying to appear confident. At seventeen, she was one of the youngest initiates in a generation to attempt the hunt. Her fingers traced the hilt of her father's sword—he'd been Imbued with air, taken from the dragon Zephyros. He could run faster than horses and leap across rooftops. He'd died three months ago defending a caravan from bandits, and now Kael needed to prove she was worthy of his legacy.
"The dragons are the glory hunts," Torvald continued, pacing before them. "Fire and air—everyone wants what they offer. Speed. Strength. Power over flame. But don't discount the serpent." He gestured toward the dark waters. "Levithan's eggs grant water-breathing, pressure resistance, and some say the ability to call storms. Fewer hunt the serpent, which means—"
"Better odds," interrupted a tall boy named Dren. He was cocky, the son of a wealthy merchant who'd bought him the best equipment money could afford.
Torvald's orange eyes flared. "It means different death. In the mountains, you can see your enemy coming. In the deep..." He let the sentence hang.
The group split by ambition and fear. Seven initiates, including Dren, headed toward the mountain passes where Inferax and Zephyros made their lairs in separate peaks. Kael watched them go, her heart pounding.
Three others turned toward the docks where boats waited to take them to the deep trenches where Levithan coiled in the darkness. That left Kael standing alone on the beach, caught between her father's legacy and her own survival.
Torvald approached her. "You haven't chosen."
"My father had air," she said quietly. "I should honor that."
"Your father," Torvald said, "also taught you to swim like a fish. I remember—I trained with him. He said you were fearless in the water."
Kael looked toward the mountains, then back to the sea. In the distance, she could see dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon, circling in an unnatural pattern. Levithan's territory.
"The serpent's eggs are smaller than dragon eggs," Torvald added. "Easier to carry. Easier to steal. And right now, with everyone chasing fire and air..." He shrugged. "The serpent hunts alone in her trench. She won't expect company."
Kael's grip tightened on her sword hilt. Then, slowly, she loosened it and turned toward the docks.
"Good," Torvald said with a grim smile. "Try to come back alive. Your father would have wanted that."
As Kael walked toward the waiting boat, she heard footsteps behind her. One of the other water-seekers, a stocky girl named Mira with a crossbow on her back, fell into step beside her.
"First time?" Mira asked.
"Yes."
"Me too." Mira grinned nervously. "At least if we die, we'll die doing something impressive."
Kael couldn't help but smile back, despite the fear coiling in her stomach like a serpent of its own. The boat rocked as they climbed aboard, and the boatman—an old Imbued with gills on his neck and webbed fingers—pushed them away from shore.
Behind them, the other initiates were already disappearing into the mountain mists. Ahead, the storm-wracked horizon waited, and somewhere beneath those dark waves, Levithan dreamed in the crushing depths, coiled around her precious clutch of eggs.
The hunt had begun.
Chapter 2 – Afloat above the Serpent’s Nest
The boat cut through increasingly rough waters as they moved farther from shore. The third water-seeker, a wiry man in his thirties named Paric, sat in silence sharpening a long knife. He had the look of someone who'd seen violence before—maybe a soldier or a caravan guard. His hands were steady despite the rocking of the boat.
The boatman, who'd introduced himself only as Gale, navigated with practiced ease. His gills fluttered slightly with each breath, a reminder of what awaited them if they succeeded. He'd been Imbued forty years ago, he'd told them. Fought Levithan's mother, a smaller serpent that had since been killed by hunters. The ocean had been his home ever since.
"How deep?" Mira asked, staring at the darkening water.
"The trench? Nearly a thousand feet at the shallowest point where Levithan nests." Gale's voice was rough, textured like coral. "You'll have equipment—weighted belts to help you descend, air bladders for the ascent. But the pressure..." He shook his head. "Your ears will scream. Your chest will feel crushed. Some initiates panic and swim for the surface too fast. The water kills them before Levithan ever gets the chance."
"Comforting," Paric muttered, not looking up from his knife.
Kael watched the storm clouds growing closer. Lightning flickered within them, but no thunder reached her ears. "Is that Levithan?"
"Her presence affects the weather," Gale confirmed. "The storm follows her, or she follows it. After a hundred years, even the serpent probably doesn't know which." He adjusted their course slightly. "We'll anchor at the edge of the trench. I'll give you each a marker stone—enchanted, expensive. Drop it when you find the nest. I'll know where you are, and if you succeed, I can help pull you up faster."
"And if we don't succeed?" Mira asked.
Gale's gill-slits flared. "Then I wait three hours and leave. The stones stop working once you die, and I'm not paid enough to become serpent food."
They sailed in silence after that. Kael found herself thinking of her father—not his death, but the way he used to laugh when she'd beaten him in swimming races across the river near their home. You're half fish yourself, he'd say. Maybe you should hunt Levithan instead of following me to the mountains.
She'd always laughed it off. But now, watching the dark water, she wondered if he'd seen something in her she hadn't seen herself.
The anchor dropped with a rattling crash. They'd reached the site.
Gale opened a waterproof chest and began distributing equipment: weighted belts, coiled ropes, air bladders made from treated fish stomachs, and the marker stones—smooth black rocks that pulsed with a faint inner light. He also handed each of them a jar of luminescent algae paste.
"Smear this on your skin and clothes. It'll help you see, and more importantly, it'll help you see each other. Levithan hunts by vibration and electrical sense more than sight, so the light won't draw her any faster than you already will by moving through her territory."
Kael stripped to her light underlayer and began applying the paste. It was cold and smelled of salt and something medicinal. Beside her, Mira did the same, her hands trembling slightly.
Paric, already glowing faintly blue-green, checked his knife and a short spear. "We're not working together down there," he said flatly. "Three eggs, three hunters. You get in my way, that's your problem."
"Noted," Kael replied coolly.
Gale handed each of them a final item—a small shark tooth on a leather cord. "Bite down on this if the pressure gets too bad. It helps. Don't ask me why." He paused, his old eyes moving from face to face. "Levithan is larger than any ship you've ever seen. She's intelligent—more than the dragons, some say. And she's a mother. Don't expect mercy."
"How do we find the nest?" Mira asked.
"Follow the warmth. Levithan generates heat to incubate her eggs. You'll feel it in the water, a current of warmth in the cold deep. Follow that, and you'll find her coils. The eggs will be in the center, in a depression in the rock." He secured the last of their equipment. "And remember—grab one egg. Be greedy, try for two, and you'll die. The shells are tough, but they'll break if you're not careful. You break an egg before it hatches, you get nothing but wet clothes and regret."
Kael secured her father's sword to her belt in a waterproof sheath. She probably wouldn't be able to use it underwater, but she couldn't leave it behind.
One by one, they positioned themselves at the boat's edge.
Paric went first, barely hesitating before dropping backward into the dark water. He vanished in seconds, the glow of his algae paste swallowed by the depth.
Mira looked at Kael. "If I don't make it—"
"You'll make it," Kael interrupted.
Mira smiled weakly, then jumped.
Kael took a deep breath, placed the shark tooth between her teeth, and followed.
The cold hit her like a fist. Then she was sinking, the weighted belt pulling her down into the dark. The light from the surface faded rapidly, replaced by the eerie glow of her own luminescent body and the faint, distant glows of her companions below.
The pressure built quickly, squeezing her chest, making her ears pop and ache. She bit down on the shark tooth and kept sinking.
And somewhere in the darkness below, something massive stirred in the deep, sensing the vibrations of three small intruders entering her domain.
Chapter 3 – The Descent
The descent felt endless. Kael's lungs burned despite the air bladder she'd breathed from before submerging—the pressure made every breath she'd taken feel insufficient. The darkness pressed in from all sides, broken only by her own ghostly glow and the occasional glimpse of Mira's light below and to the left.
Paric had already disappeared into the depths, moving faster than either of them.
Kael's ears popped again, sharp pain lancing through her skull. She worked her jaw, swallowing hard around the shark tooth, and the pressure equalized slightly. The cold was seeping into her bones now, making her fingers clumsy as she released more weight from her belt to slow her descent.
Then she felt it—a subtle shift in the water temperature. Warmer. Not warm, but less brutally cold. She was close.
The trench bottom materialized gradually from the darkness: a landscape of volcanic rock, twisted formations that looked like the bones of dead gods. And there, in the distance, she saw what appeared to be movement—massive coils of scaled flesh, each one thicker than an ancient oak, wound around and through the rocky formations.
Levithan.
Kael's heart hammered. The serpent was even larger than she'd imagined. What she could see was only a fraction of the creature—most of its body disappeared into crevasses and behind rock formations. The scales caught the faint bioluminescence, reflecting it in oil-slick patterns of deep blue and violet.
She spotted Mira descending toward a different section of the coils, perhaps fifty feet away. Of Paric, there was no sign.
Kael pulled herself along the rocks, using outcroppings for leverage, following the warmth. The current of heated water grew stronger, and she realized it was coming from Levithan herself—the massive serpent generating heat like a living furnace to protect her brood.
Then she saw the nest.
A depression in the volcanic rock, easily twenty feet across, lined with what looked like strips of kelp and the remains of whales. And in the center, clustered together, were the eggs. Each was the size of Kael's torso, oval-shaped, with shells that seemed to shift colors in the dim light—deep blue fading to turquoise, with veins of silver running across their surfaces.
There were six eggs total. Three initiates. She could see Paric now, on the opposite side of the nest, already reaching for the closest egg. His movements were slow, careful, trying not to disturb the water too much.
One of Levithan's coils shifted.
The movement was slight, almost lazy, but the displacement of water it created knocked Kael sideways into a rock formation. She grabbed hold, freezing in place, every instinct screaming at her not to move.
The serpent's head emerged from behind a massive boulder.
It was the size of a house. Ancient and terrible, with eyes like polished obsidian that reflected the glow of the three intruders. The mouth could have swallowed a horse whole. Rows of teeth, each as long as Kael's forearm, lined jaws that had crushed ships.
But Levithan didn't attack immediately. She watched, her body tense, coiled. This was her nest, her children, and intruders had come. Kael could see the rage in those ancient eyes, held in check by something—calculation, perhaps. The serpent was waiting to see what they would do.
Paric secured his egg in the net bag he'd brought, moving with agonizing slowness. Kael could see the tension in his movements—he was barely keeping panic at bay. He had what he came for. Now he just needed to escape with it.
The moment Paric pushed off from the nest floor, egg clutched to his chest, Levithan struck.
The serpent moved with terrifying speed, her massive body uncoiling like a released spring. Paric saw her coming and kicked desperately upward, abandoning any pretense of stealth for raw survival. He dropped his weighted belt and clawed at the water with frantic strokes.
But he made a fatal mistake.
In his panic, his grip on the net bag loosened. The egg slipped free, tumbling down through the dark water back toward the nest.
Paric reached for it instinctively, twisting in the water, losing precious seconds—
Levithan's jaws closed around him.
The crunch was sickeningly audible even through the water—a sound like a ship's hull being crushed. Paric's luminescent glow flickered once inside the serpent's mouth, then vanished as she swallowed. His body disappeared into that massive throat in seconds.
The egg continued its slow tumble toward the rocks below the nest.
Kael pressed herself flat against the rocks, her heart hammering. Across the nest, she could see Mira doing the same, frozen in terror. Neither of them had taken an egg yet. Neither of them had moved from their positions.
Levithan's attention fixed on the falling egg—her egg, stolen and now falling toward the rocky trench floor where it could shatter. The serpent's massive body twisted with surprising grace, diving beneath the egg. She caught it gently in her mouth, cradling it between teeth that had just crushed a man, and swam back to the nest.
Kael watched, barely breathing, as Levithan carefully placed the egg back among its siblings, nudging it into position with her snout. The serpent's movements were tender, protective, checking each egg in turn to ensure none had been damaged during the confrontation.
Then those obsidian eyes swept across the trench floor, finding Kael and Mira pressed against their respective rocks.
The serpent's body began to shift, uncoiling slightly, her head swinging toward Kael's position. The message was unmistakable: Leave, or join him.
Kael didn't need to be told twice. She released her weighted belt and began swimming upward, her movements careful but quick. Across the nest, she saw Mira doing the same.
They rose through the crushing darkness, lungs burning, ears screaming with pressure changes. Kael didn't dare look back to see if Levithan was following. She just swam, counting her heartbeats, focusing on the distant surface.
When they finally broke through into air and sunlight, gasping and choking, Gale was already pulling them toward the boat. His webbed hands were strong, practiced at hauling half-drowned initiates from the sea.
"Where's Paric?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"Dead," Mira gasped, clinging to the boat's edge. "Levithan killed him."
"The eggs?"
"Still in the nest," Kael said, her voice hoarse. "We couldn't... she was too fast, too protective."
Gale nodded grimly, unsurprised. "The serpent is the hardest hunt for a reason. Most who go down don't come back up." He helped them into the boat. "You're alive. That's worth something."
But it didn't feel like much as they sailed back toward shore. Kael stared at her empty hands, thinking of her father, of the power she'd failed to claim, of Paric's body being digested in the crushing depths.
Chapter 4 – Back on Shore
They reached the black sand beach as the sun climbed higher. The other initiates were gathered there, and Kael's heart sank further when she saw them.
Four of the seven who'd gone to the mountains had returned. Three carried eggs.
Dren was among them, looking smug despite the blood on his armor and the burns on his arms. He held a fire egg—Inferax's offspring—cradled carefully in a reinforced bag. The shell glowed with inner heat, pulsing like a heartbeat made of flame.
Two others had succeeded as well: a muscular woman named Sera held an air egg from Zephyros's lair, its shell swirling with patterns like windswept clouds, and a quiet man named Jorun had a second fire egg.
Three of the mountain initiates hadn't returned at all.
Torvald stood on the beach, assessing the survivors. His orange eyes lingered on Kael and Mira's empty hands, then on the three successful hunters.
"Seven went to the mountains," he announced to the gathered crowd of trainers and onlookers. "Three succeeded. Three died. One fled and lives with his cowardice." His gaze found a young man sitting apart from the group, head in his hands.
"Three went to the sea. One died. Two survived but brought nothing back."
The crowd murmured. Kael felt the weight of their judgment, saw the mixture of pity and disappointment in their eyes.
"The serpent is unforgiving," Torvald continued. "But the dragons..." He gestured to the three successful initiates. "The dragons can be outwitted. They are powerful, yes. Dangerous, absolutely. But they hunt on land, in tunnels and caves where humans can use terrain to their advantage. They sleep deeply. They can be distracted."
Dren stepped forward, unable to contain himself. "Inferax was massive, but she was sluggish in her cave. We used smoke bombs to confuse her, and while she raged, I slipped into her nesting chamber. It was dangerous, but manageable."
Sera nodded. "Zephyros was faster, but the winds in his mountain lair are predictable. I studied the patterns for hours before making my approach. He never even woke."
Kael felt something hollow open in her chest. They made it sound almost... easy. Not safe, certainly—three had died in the mountains. But achievable. Understandable.
The serpent had been another matter entirely. In the crushing depths, in Levithan's domain, they'd been helpless. Slow. Vulnerable. The serpent had complete control.
Torvald approached Kael and Mira. "You survived," he said quietly. "That takes skill. But survival without success is just another form of failure for an initiate."
"We could try again—" Mira started.
"No." Torvald shook his head. "Levithan will be on high alert now. She's tasted blood today. She won't be caught off-guard again this season. If you want to become Imbued, you'll need to look elsewhere."
Kael's jaw tightened. "The dragons."
"The dragons," Torvald confirmed. He studied her for a long moment. "Your father had air. You wanted to honor him by following his path. But he's not here to see which power you claim, Kael. He just wanted you to survive and become strong. Any power is better than none."
He was right, and Kael hated it.
"Inferax laid seven eggs this season," Torvald continued. "Only one has been claimed so far. Zephyros laid six—one taken. Both dragons will be more alert now, but they're still landbound creatures. Still vulnerable in ways the serpent isn't."
Dren approached, his fire egg still radiating heat. "You should try Inferax," he said to Kael with barely concealed condescension. "Since you clearly can't handle the serpent. The fire dragon is dangerous, sure, but at least you can breathe air while you're dying." He laughed at his own joke.
Kael's hand moved toward her sword hilt before she caught herself.
Mira put a hand on her arm. "He's not worth it."
"Listen to your friend," Dren said, turning away. "Stick to the mountains from now on. Leave the deep sea to better hunters."
As he walked away, Kael made a decision. She turned to Torvald. "When can we leave for the dragon lairs?"
"Eager," Torvald observed. "Good. Inferax's mountain is a two-day journey north. Zephyros is three days east. I'd recommend Inferax—fire is more straightforward than air. Predictable. And after watching Dren succeed, you'll have a better idea of what you're facing."
"I want air," Kael said immediately. "Like my father."
Torvald raised an eyebrow. "Your father earned air through skill and luck. Don't let sentimentality get you killed."
"I can handle it."
"Can you?" Torvald's orange eyes flared slightly. "You just failed against the serpent. You came back with nothing. And now you want to tackle the more difficult dragon hunt out of pride?"
"Not pride," Kael said, though she wasn't entirely sure that was true. "Air is... it's what I'm meant for. I know it."
Torvald studied her, then sighed. "Fine. Zephyros it is. But you're not going alone—too dangerous, and frankly, I don't trust your judgment right now. Mira, you're going with her. Support each other, watch each other's backs. And if you get a chance at a fire egg instead, take it. Power matters more than preference when you're dead."
Mira nodded reluctantly. "When do we leave?"
"Dawn tomorrow. I'll arrange supplies and give you what intelligence we have on Zephyros's current lair location and habits." He paused. "The dragon is ancient and cunning. Don't underestimate it just because it's not a sea monster."
As Torvald walked away to make arrangements, Kael stared at the mountains in the distance, their peaks shrouded in clouds.
Somewhere up there, Zephyros slept among his eggs. Somewhere up there was the power her father had claimed, the legacy she'd failed to achieve in the depths.
She would not fail again.
Mira stood beside her, following her gaze. "We almost died today."
"I know."
"Paric did die."
"I know."
"And now we're going to climb a mountain and try to steal from a creature that can move faster than wind."
Kael finally looked at her companion. "You don't have to come."
Mira was quiet for a moment, then laughed—a short, slightly hysterical sound. "Yes, I do. If I go home empty-handed after this, after coming this far... I'd rather die trying." She paused. "That sounded more inspiring in my head."
Despite everything, Kael smiled. "We're not going to die. We're going to succeed where that smug bastard Dren thinks we'll fail. And then we're going to become Imbued and make him regret every condescending word."
"Now that sounded inspiring," Mira said.
They stood together on the black sand beach, watching the sun move across the sky toward the mountains, toward Zephyros's territory, toward one more chance at power and legacy.
The serpent had defeated them. The dragon would not.
Chapter 5 The Mountain of Winds
The journey to Zephyros's mountain took three days, just as Torvald had promised. Kael and Mira weren't alone—Torvald had assigned two experienced hunters to accompany them. Both were already Imbued, veterans of previous hunts who worked as guides for initiates willing to pay their price.
The first was Renna, a lean woman in her thirties with fire from Inferax coursing through her veins. Her eyes held a perpetual warm glow, and she could summon flames to her hands with a thought. She'd taken her egg fifteen years ago and had guided dozens of initiates since.
The second was Vakir, a broad-shouldered man who'd been Imbued with air twenty years past. He moved with unnatural grace, his steps light as though gravity held less sway over him. When he ran, he seemed to glide across the ground, and he could leap distances that would break a normal person's legs.
"The trick with Zephyros," Vakir explained as they climbed the winding mountain path, "is understanding that he doesn't guard his nest the way Inferax does. The fire dragon sits and broods. Zephyros circles. He rides the wind currents around his mountain, and he can sense disturbances in the air from miles away."
"How do we get past that?" Mira asked, breathing hard from the climb.
"We don't," Renna said. "We draw him away. That's why you hired us."
They'd reached the arrangement the night before: Kael and Mira had pooled what money they had—savings, family contributions, everything—to hire the two Imbued as more than just guides. They would be bait and defenders, giving the initiates a chance at the nest while Zephyros was distracted.
It was dangerous. People died doing this work, even experienced Imbued. But the pay was good, and both Renna and Vakir seemed confident.
"You'll have maybe ten minutes," Vakir continued. "Maybe fifteen if we're lucky and the dragon is really committed to the chase. Get in, grab one egg each—no more—and get out. We'll rendezvous at the eastern descent path."
"And if the dragon gets past you?" Kael asked.
Renna's smile was grim. "Then you run faster than you've ever run in your life, and you pray to whatever gods you believe in."
They reached Zephyros's territory on the afternoon of the third day. The mountain peak was perpetually wrapped in clouds that swirled in patterns that seemed almost deliberate. The wind here never stopped, never even paused—it howled and shrieked through the rocky crags like a living thing.
"The dragon shapes the wind," Vakir explained, raising his voice over the gale. "It's his domain. He's been here for over two hundred years, and the mountain has changed to reflect his presence. The wind obeys him."
They made camp in a sheltered cave below the peak, waiting for nightfall. Zephyros hunted mostly during the day, Vakir told them, riding thermal currents and scanning the landscape below for prey. At night, he returned to his lair but remained alert.
"Dawn is our best window," Renna said. "He'll be drowsy, sluggish. Still dangerous, but less so than midday when the thermals are strongest."
Kael tried to sleep but couldn't. She kept thinking of the serpent, of Paric being crushed in those terrible jaws, of her empty hands on the beach. This was her second chance. She couldn't fail again.
Beside her, Mira tossed and turned as well. Neither of them spoke about their fear, but it hung in the air between them like smoke.
They began their ascent two hours before dawn, climbing in darkness with only shielded lanterns to guide them. The wind tried to tear them from the rocks, howling with what almost sounded like words. Kael's fingers were numb from cold and gripping stone, but she pushed on.
As the sky began to lighten, they reached the final approach to Zephyros's lair—a massive cave entrance carved by centuries of wind, its edges smooth as polished glass. The wind here was so strong it nearly knocked them off their feet.
Vakir moved ahead, his air-blessed body handling the gale with ease. He peered into the cave, then turned back and signed: Dragon present. Nest visible. Six eggs.
Renna nodded and began preparing. She pulled out several clay spheres filled with alchemical compounds—flash-bangs, smoke bombs, and fire charges. Vakir readied his bow, arrows tipped with sharpened steel meant more to annoy than truly harm a dragon.
"Remember," Renna said quietly to Kael and Mira, "when we engage, you move fast. Don't hesitate. Don't look back. Just get to that nest, take your eggs, and run for the eastern path. We'll find you."
Kael nodded, her heart hammering.
Vakir counted down on his fingers. Three. Two. One.
He loosed an arrow into the cave. It struck stone with a sharp crack that echoed impossibly loud.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the wind screamed.
Zephyros emerged from his lair like a hurricane given form. He was smaller than Levithan but no less terrifying—a serpentine dragon with massive wings that seemed made of storm clouds themselves. His scales were pale blue-gray, almost translucent, and his eyes were the color of clear sky. When he roared, the sound was the shriek of a thousand gales.
Vakir and Renna moved immediately. Renna hurled a fire charge that exploded in brilliant orange flame, drawing the dragon's attention. Vakir leaped—impossibly high, impossibly far—and landed on a rocky outcropping above, loosing arrow after arrow at Zephyros's head.
The dragon's attention fixed on them. His wings beat once, and the resulting wind blast nearly knocked Kael and Mira off the mountain entirely. They clung to the rocks as Zephyros launched himself into the air, pursuing the two Imbued who were already running, leaping, darting away from the lair with supernatural speed.
"Now!" Kael shouted.
They scrambled up the final approach and into the cave. The wind inside was less intense, almost calm by comparison, though Kael could feel the pressure of it in her ears, a constant thrumming presence.
The nest was at the back of the cave, built on a raised platform of stone that must have taken the dragon years to arrange. Six eggs rested there, each about the size of Kael's torso, their shells swirling with patterns like wind-blown clouds. They seemed to move even while sitting still, the patterns shifting and flowing.
"Beautiful," Mira whispered.
They were. And they were right there, unguarded.
Kael approached carefully, mindful of Paric's fate. She selected an egg that seemed to pulse with inner light, its shell warm to the touch despite the cold mountain air. She secured it carefully in her reinforced carrying sack, checking twice to make sure it wouldn't slip.
Mira chose her own egg, working quickly but carefully.
Outside, they could hear the battle. Renna's explosions. Vakir's shouts. And over it all, Zephyros's shrieking roar and the howl of wind being bent to the dragon's will.
"We have them," Kael said. "Let's—"
The wind in the cave suddenly reversed direction, sucking toward the entrance with tremendous force.
Zephyros had returned.
The dragon's head appeared at the cave entrance, those sky-blue eyes fixing on them instantly. His jaws opened, but instead of fire, wind poured forth—a focused gale that hit like a battering ram.
Kael was thrown backward, crashing into the cave wall. She clutched the egg to her chest, protecting it with her body as she hit stone. Pain exploded through her shoulder, but the egg remained intact.
Mira screamed as the wind caught her, lifting her off her feet and slamming her into the cave ceiling. She fell hard, her egg slipping from her grasp and rolling across the stone floor—miraculously not breaking.
Zephyros began to enter the cave, his massive form barely fitting through the entrance he'd carved for himself over centuries.
Then Vakir landed on the dragon's back.
The air-Imbued hunter moved with impossible speed and grace, his affinity allowing him to almost fly in short bursts. He drove a long spike into the softer scales at the base of Zephyros's neck—not deep enough to truly wound the ancient creature, but enough to enrage it.
The dragon shrieked and twisted, trying to dislodge him. Vakir held on, driving in another spike.
"GO!" he shouted at Kael and Mira. "Eastern path! NOW!"
Kael grabbed her egg and scrambled to her feet. She rushed to Mira, who was dazed and bleeding from her head, and helped her up. Mira's egg was still rolling across the floor. Kael snatched it with her free hand.
"Can you run?" Kael asked.
Mira nodded groggily.
They ran for the cave entrance. Zephyros was thrashing now, his attention entirely on Vakir, who clung to the dragon's back like a determined insect. The hunter was shouting, taunting, keeping the dragon focused on him.
As Kael and Mira slipped past the dragon's massive form, Kael saw Renna below on an outcropping. The fire-Imbued woman was preparing something—multiple fire charges strapped together, a devastating explosive.
"Jump when you clear the entrance!" Renna shouted up at them. "I'll catch you!"
Kael didn't question it. She and Mira reached the cave entrance and leaped off the edge of the mountain.
For a heart-stopping moment, they fell through open air. Then Renna's flames erupted beneath them, not burning but somehow cushioning their fall, slowing their descent until they landed hard but survivably on a wide ledge thirty feet below.
"Move!" Renna shouted, running toward them. "The eastern path is—"
Zephyros emerged from the cave, Vakir still clinging to his back. The dragon's wings spread wide, catching the mountain winds, and he took flight.
In the air, Zephyros was in his true element. He rolled, once, twice, and Vakir lost his grip.
The hunter fell, and for a moment it looked like he might save himself—his air affinity letting him twist in midair, angling toward a ledge—
But Zephyros was faster. The dragon's jaws snapped closed around Vakir's body. There was no crunch this time, just the awful sight of the hunter disappearing into the dragon's mouth. One moment Vakir was there, the next he was simply gone.
"NO!" Renna screamed.
Zephyros turned his attention to them. The dragon inhaled, his chest expanding—
Renna threw her bundled explosives.
The fire charges flew true, entering the dragon's open mouth just as he began to exhale. For a split second, nothing happened.
Then Zephyros's head exploded in flame.
The dragon shrieked—a sound of pain and rage that shook the entire mountain. He thrashed in midair, smoke and fire pouring from his mouth and nostrils. He wasn't dead, not even close, but he was hurt and confused.
"RUN!" Renna grabbed Kael and Mira, physically hauling them toward a narrow path carved into the mountainside. "Move move move!"
They ran. Kael clutched both eggs now—hers and Mira's—while Mira stumbled beside her, still dazed from hitting her head. Renna supported Mira on the other side, and together they careened down the treacherous eastern path.
Behind them, Zephyros recovered. The dragon landed on his lair entrance, smoke still rising from his scorched mouth. His roar shook loose rocks that tumbled down the mountain around them.
But he didn't pursue. Perhaps the injury made him cautious. Perhaps he was more concerned with checking his remaining eggs. Or perhaps, like Levithan, there was some ancient understanding—the thieves had their prizes and were leaving his territory. The price had been paid in blood.
They didn't stop running until they were a mile down the mountain, out of sight of the dragon's lair. Finally, in a sheltered hollow, they collapsed.
Kael set the eggs down carefully, her hands shaking. Both were intact, their shells swirling with cloud-like patterns, pulsing with power.
Mira was crying, whether from her head injury or from fear or relief, Kael couldn't tell.
Renna sat with her back against stone, her face hollow. "Vakir is dead."
"I'm sorry," Kael said quietly.
"Twenty years," Renna said. "Twenty years he'd been Imbued. Survived dozens of hunts. And..." She didn't finish the sentence.
They sat in silence as the sun rose higher, warming the mountain. In the distance, they could hear Zephyros's occasional roars, but the dragon wasn't coming after them.
"You got them," Renna finally said, looking at the two eggs. "Two air eggs. Vakir died, but... you succeeded. That has to mean something."
Kael looked at the egg she'd risked everything for. Inside it was the power her father had possessed. Inside it was speed, grace, the ability to dance with the wind itself.
But it had cost Vakir his life. Just as the attempt on Levithan had cost Paric his.
"We should move," Renna said, standing wearily. "Get off this mountain. The dragon won't stay docile forever."
They gathered their things and began the long descent. Kael carried her egg like it was made of glass, like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Because it was.
She had succeeded where she'd failed before. She had an air egg, just like her father.
But the victory felt hollow, tasted like ash.
Vakir's body was somewhere in Zephyros's digestive system. Paric's was still in Levithan's. The price of power was always paid in blood—sometimes your own, sometimes someone else's.
As they descended into the warmer valleys below, Kael wondered if she'd ever be able to forget the sound of Zephyros's jaws snapping shut, or the look on Renna's face when she realized her partner was gone.
But she didn't put the egg down.
She carried it all the way home.
Chapter Six – Wind Touched
They returned to the black sand beach six days after they'd left. Word of their success had traveled ahead of them—a messenger bird Renna had sent from a village halfway back—and a crowd had gathered to witness the ritual.
Kael had never seen so many people assembled at once. Townspeople, merchants, farmers from the surrounding valleys, and most impressively, dozens of the Imbued themselves. They came to witness a new initiate join their ranks, to see the power passed from dragon to human, to celebrate the dangerous tradition that had shaped their society for generations.
Torvald stood at the center of it all, near a raised platform of black volcanic stone that had been built specifically for Imbuing ceremonies. His orange eyes found Kael in the crowd and he nodded with something that might have been approval.
Dren was there too, already bearing the mark of his Imbuing—his eyes had taken on a faint reddish glow, and when he breathed, thin wisps of smoke occasionally escaped his nostrils. He watched Kael with less smugness than before, though the arrogance hadn't entirely left his expression.
Sera and Jorun stood nearby, both successfully Imbued as well. Sera moved with an unconscious grace now, her steps lighter than before. Jorun's hands occasionally sparked with small flames that he seemed to summon and dismiss without thought.
Mira stood beside Kael, her own air egg cradled carefully in her arms. The younger woman's head wound had been treated and bandaged, but she still moved gingerly. They would both be Imbued today, both receive the power they'd nearly died for.
Renna stood apart from the crowd, her face still haunted. She'd lost a partner, a friend of twenty years. The Imbued community had surrounded her with quiet support, but grief hung on her like a cloak.
"Kael. Mira." Torvald's voice carried across the beach, silencing the murmurs. "Step forward."
They approached the platform, eggs held carefully. Kael's heart hammered in her chest. This was it. The moment that would change everything.
On the platform waited the Rendering Master—an ancient woman named Yalva who had been Imbued with water so long ago that no one remembered the exact year. Her skin had a faint translucent quality, and her eyes were the deep blue-green of the ocean depths. She was one of the few who had mastered the art of extracting a dragon egg's power and transferring it safely to a human host.
"The eggs," Yalva said, her voice rough as waves on rocks.
Kael and Mira placed their eggs on the platform. In the daylight, they were even more beautiful than they'd been in the cave—the shells swirled with constantly shifting patterns like wind-blown clouds, and occasionally small currents of air seemed to ripple across their surfaces.
Yalva examined both eggs carefully, her practiced eyes checking for cracks or damage. "Intact," she announced. "Viable. Well done, initiates."
The crowd murmured approval.
"The Imbuing ritual is ancient," Yalva continued, her voice carrying across the beach. "Older than any kingdom, older than written history. The dragons do not give their power willingly—we take it. But the taking requires precision, respect, and community."
She gestured, and several other Imbued stepped forward, forming a circle around the platform. Kael recognized some of them—hunters, traders, warriors, all bearing the marks of their particular affinities. Fire-bearers with their warm glowing eyes. Air-touched with their light, graceful movements. Water-Imbued with their gill slits and webbed fingers.
"Each Imbuing requires the presence of others who already carry power," Yalva explained. "We channel, we guide, we help the initiate's body accept what would otherwise reject it. An egg's power consumed without preparation will kill you. With proper ritual, it transforms you."
Kael swallowed hard. No one had mentioned the killing part.
Yalva produced a long, silver knife with a blade that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. "Kael, daughter of Henrik the Wind-touched. You seek to follow your father's path. Step forward."
Kael climbed onto the platform. Her legs felt weak, but she forced them steady.
"Kneel before your egg."
She knelt. Up close, she could feel the power radiating from the shell—a constant pressure, like standing in a strong wind even though the air around her was still.
Yalva began to chant in a language Kael didn't recognize—something old, primal, that seemed to resonate in her bones. The other Imbued in the circle joined in, their voices creating a harmony that made the air itself vibrate.
The Rendering Master raised her knife and brought it down on the egg in one swift, precise strike.
The shell cracked with a sound like thunder. Light poured out—not white light, but something colorless and clear that hurt to look at directly. Wind burst from the opening, swirling around the platform in a miniature cyclone.
Inside the broken shell was not a dragon hatchling, but pure essence—something between liquid and gas, constantly moving, impossible to pin down. It glowed with inner power, ancient and wild.
"Drink," Yalva commanded, using her knife to widen the opening. "Quickly, before it dissipates."
Kael leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the opening. The essence tasted like nothing she'd ever experienced—like the moment before a storm, like the top of a mountain, like falling through open sky. It was cold and warm simultaneously, and when she swallowed, it burned going down.
She drank deeply, feeling the essence flow into her, and the chanting grew louder.
Power exploded through her body.
It felt like every nerve was on fire, like her blood had been replaced with lightning. The wind around the platform intensified, whipping at her clothes and hair. She gasped, trying to breathe, but the air itself felt different now—thinner, more responsive, like it was listening to her.
The Imbued in the circle extended their hands toward her, and she felt their power flowing into her as well—not their specific affinities, but something else. Stability. Guidance. A framework to help her body accept the transformation.
Yalva's hands pressed against Kael's temples. "Breathe," the old woman commanded. "Accept it. Don't fight. Let it change you."
Kael breathed, and the air came easier. The burning sensation faded, replaced by something else—a sense of lightness, of connection to the wind itself. She could feel air currents moving across the beach, could sense the breathing of everyone in the crowd, could almost taste the pressure systems moving across the distant ocean.
When she opened her eyes, the world looked different. Sharper. Clearer. She could see the individual grains of sand being moved by the wind, could track the path of a bird flying overhead with perfect clarity.
"Stand," Yalva said.
Kael stood, and it felt effortless. Her body felt lighter, as though gravity had loosened its grip. When she took a step, she moved faster than intended, covering three feet instead of one.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Kael the Wind-touched!" Torvald's voice boomed. "Welcome to the Imbued!"
People pressed forward, congratulating her, touching her shoulder, celebrating her success. The Imbued in particular welcomed her—she was one of them now, part of an elite community that transcended normal human limitations.
Dren approached, and to Kael's surprise, he offered his hand. "Well done," he said, and this time there was genuine respect in his voice. "Air is harder than fire. You earned it."
She shook his hand, surprised to find she didn't hate him quite as much as before.
Mira's Imbuing came next. The ritual was repeated—the chanting, the breaking of the egg, the drinking of essence. Mira gasped and shook as the power flooded through her, but the circle of Imbued guided her through it, and when she stood, her eyes were bright with wonder.
"Mira the Wind-touched!" Torvald announced. "Welcome to the Imbued!"
More cheering. More celebration.
As the sun set over the black sand beach, a feast was laid out. The newly Imbued were guests of honor, seated at a long table with Torvald and other respected members of the community. Food and drink flowed freely, and stories were shared—tales of other hunts, other initiates, the proud history of their tradition.
Kael sat next to Mira, both of them still adjusting to their new bodies, their new senses. Every breeze felt like a conversation now, every shift in air pressure was information. It would take time to fully master, but the potential was intoxicating.
"Your father would be proud," Torvald said, raising a cup in Kael's direction. "Henrik was one of the finest Wind-touched I ever knew. You honor his memory."
Kael raised her own cup, but her thoughts were complicated. Pride, yes. Achievement, certainly. But also the memory of Vakir's body disappearing into the dragon's jaws. The hollow look on Renna's face. Paric's crushed form in the serpent's mouth.
"To those who didn't return," she said instead, her voice carrying across the gathering. "To Vakir, who gave his life so Mira and I could succeed. To Paric, who died trying. To all the initiates who sought power and found only death."
The celebration quieted for a moment as others raised their cups.
"To the fallen," the crowd echoed.
Renna, sitting at the edge of the gathering, met Kael's eyes and nodded once. A moment of understanding passed between them—gratitude mixed with grief, success purchased with blood.
Then the celebration resumed, because this was the way of their people. They honored the dead, but celebrated the living. They acknowledged the cost, but gloried in the achievement.
As night deepened, Kael stepped away from the feast and walked down to the water's edge. The wind whispered around her, and for the first time, she felt like she could almost understand what it was saying. She was Imbued now. Wind-touched. One of the elite.
She thought of her father, wondered if he'd felt this same mixture of triumph and melancholy after his own Imbuing. Wondered if the power ever stopped feeling like it came at too high a price.
"Kael."
She turned to find Torvald approaching. The older man's orange eyes glowed softly in the darkness.
"You're wondering if it was worth it," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Was it?" she asked.
Torvald was quiet for a moment, staring out at the dark ocean. "Vakir knew the risks. He took the job willingly, for good pay. He died doing what he'd done successfully dozens of times before. That's the nature of our world. Power requires sacrifice."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No," Torvald agreed. "It doesn't. Only you can answer that, and only with time. But I'll tell you this—you have a gift now that perhaps one in a thousand people will ever possess. You can use it to protect people, to build things, to make your mark on the world. Your father used his power to defend the innocent. What will you do with yours?"
Kael looked down at her hands. In the moonlight, she could see faint patterns on her skin—like wind-blown clouds, almost invisible unless you knew to look for them. The mark of the Imbued.
"I don't know yet," she admitted.
"Good," Torvald said. "The ones who think they know immediately are usually wrong. Take your time. Learn your power. Decide what kind of Wind-touched you want to be." He turned to leave, then paused. "Your father took three years before he settled into his role as a caravan guard. Before that, he tried being a scout, a messenger, even a performer for a while. The power doesn't define you, Kael. You define it."
He walked back toward the celebration, leaving her alone with the wind and the waves.
Kael stood there for a long time, feeling the air currents play across her skin, listening to the ocean, thinking about dragons and serpents and eggs that held the power to transform. Thinking about Vakir and Paric and her father. Thinking about the future that stretched before her now, full of possibility and responsibility in equal measure.
Finally, she turned and walked back to the feast. Mira was laughing at something Sera had said, her face flushed with wine and joy. The Imbued were welcoming them, sharing stories, teaching them tricks for controlling their new abilities.
Kael sat down among them and accepted a fresh cup of wine.
She was Wind-touched now. One of the Imbued.
Whatever came next, she would face it with the power of the air itself at her command, and the memory of those who'd died to help her achieve it burned into her heart.
The celebration continued long into the night, and the wind carried their voices across the black sand beach, out over the ocean where Levithan coiled in her trench, and up into the mountains where Zephyros nursed his scorched mouth and guarded his remaining eggs.
The ancient cycle continued. Dragons would lay more eggs. Initiates would hunt them. Some would succeed. Some would die.
And the Imbued would endure, bearing powers stolen from creatures far older than human civilization, forever walking the line between triumph and tragedy.
THE END
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