THE BRIDE OF FLAMES

THE PROPHECY OF THE STORM

Winter stirred awake inside the ruined temple, the faint warmth of dying embers is at her side.

Prince Red sat against one of the fallen pillars, his back bare and scarred, the sunlight tracing the faint outlines of the scales that still lingered beneath his skin. He had not slept.

This morning, the forest was eerily quiet, as though the world itself held its breath after the night’s destruction.

When Winter rose, she noticed Red's eyes became gold again, calm but shadowed with exhaustion.

“You didn’t rest,” she said softly.

He gave a small, tired smile. “I can’t. When I close my eyes, I hear them... the roars, the screams. Every time the curse wakes, I see what I’ve done before.”

Way back from the past:

When Prince Red was just 17, he transformed into his dragon form and unleashed chaos on one of the villages in the kingdom. With the power of a storm at his command, he breathed fire that engulfed homes and people alike, leaving destruction in his wake. No one could stand in his way until, an hour later, he soared off to the mountains.

But a man in dark masked found him, when the red dragon turned back into his human form.

"He is a mere human?" he whispered. And he clearly identified him, he is the prince of the kingdom.

Prince Red can smell and hear anyone around him, so he ran away, far from the mountain, far from the kingdom he once grew as a respected Prince.

Winter hesitated, then knelt beside him. “Then we’ll fight it together,” she whispered.

Her words lingered like a promise.

As she looked around, her gaze caught something half-buried beneath the moss. Carvings, ancient and intricate, spanning the stone walls and floor of the temple ruins. With her hand, she brushed away the dirt and vines, revealing what appeared to be a mural, it is a woman standing beside a dragon wreathed in light, facing a shadowed beast cloaked in fire.

“Red… look.”

He joined her, eyes narrowing. “This is no myth. It’s the story of the Firstborn War.”

Winter frowned. “War?”

Prince Red traced one of the runes with his finger. “Long ago, the dragons ruled beside humans. But when envy and fear consumed men’s hearts, they turned against the Firstborn. My ancestor, and the present king, my father tried to bind peace through blood, sealing a dragon’s soul inside his newborn heir.”

“You, does it mean you are the "Storm keeper" and not me.” Winter whispered.

He nodded grimly. “Every heir since then carried the fire of storm within them. But the seal was meant to stay dormant, until the "Storm-Bearer" awakened it.” Then he looked at her meaningfully.

"The "storm" is a powerful weapon, but the "fire" is the strongest weapon on earth" Prince Red added.

Winter stepped back. “You think that’s me?”

“The sigil chose you,” Red said quietly. “It responds to the same flame that burns in me. That means you’re connected to the prophecy. I am the storm, while you are my fire"

"So when we met Valcanar, he was being free from his cursed, does it mean we are the key.." Winter replied.

"I think so... after we collided his power seemed to returned. But we couldn't trust him. My father says he is merciless dragon. My fated enemy."

Before she could answer, a distant sound cut through the air, shouts, dogs barking, the metallic clatter of weapons. Prince Red’s head snapped toward the forest. “Hunters,” he hissed.

Winter’s heartbeat quickened. “But how, how did they find us?”

Prince Red scanned the treeline, his senses sharpening. “They’re tracking the dragon’s scent, my scent.”

The noise grew louder. Men’s voices echoed through the fog, and Winter caught glimpses of dark silhouettes moving swiftly through the trees.

Prince Red clenched his fists, his skin flickering faintly with heat. “They survived the Black dragon’s flames. Which means…”

“Someone’s leading them,” Winter finished.

He turned to her, urgency in his eyes. “We can’t fight here. The seal’s too unstable. If I lose control again...”

“Then I’ll stop you,” she said firmly, her hand finding his. Prince Red felt the warm touch of her skin. The touch that he never experienced before.

“Like last night.” Winter added.

Prince Red held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, a mix of emotions passing silently between them... fear, the love at first sight, gratitude, and perhaps even a glimmer of hope. Then finally, he gave a nod.

“Stay close,” he said.

They slipped out of the temple’s broken archway and into the thick morning fog. Every sound, the snap of twigs, the whisper of leaves, is felt like a threat.

Behind them, hidden within the ruins, the carvings began to glow faintly, ancient runes lighting up one by one as though awakening after centuries of sleep.

-------------------

Far from the ruins, the hunters regrouped beneath the smoldering remains of the mountain trail. Their leader, a scarred man with a blackened mask, held a shard of crimson crystal in his palm. It pulsed faintly, responding to the same energy that flowed through Red and Winter.

“She’s with him,” the masked man growled. “The girl who carries the Storm’s Mark.”

He turned to his men. “Find them. Before the Black dragon does.”

As they vanished into the forest, thunder rolled in the distance, not from the sky, but from wings beating somewhere high above.

The storm was awakening again.

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The forest stretched like a labyrinth of mist and echoing footsteps. Every branch that cracked beneath Winter’s boots sent a tremor of fear through her chest.

Red moved ahead, scanning the shadows with sharp, golden eyes that glowed faintly under the shroud of fog. “Keep low,” he whispered. “They’re close.”

Winter’s pulse thundered in her ears. The voices of the hunters came from all directions now, shouts, the bark of hounds, the distant clang of metal on stone.

Suddenly, Red stopped. His gaze locked onto a crumbling mound of the ground, half-hidden beneath the roots of an enormous tree. Faint carvings etched into the ground formed a circle, a dragon intertwined with a human figure, the same as those in the ruins.

“Here,” he said. “This symbol, it’s a gate.”

Winter frowned, and deepened her breath “A gate to where?”

“To the old chambers,” Red replied, his voice low. “A sanctuary built by the Red Dragon, one of the Firstborn before they vanished.”

He lowered himself to one knee, his palm making contact with the intricate symbol etched into the ground. As his hand pressed down, the sigil beneath him ignited with a brilliant radiance, casting vibrant waves of gold and crimson light that danced across the surface of the ground. The atmosphere around him shimmered with an otherworldly energy, and a deep, resonant groan echoed through the air as the very ground began to shift and separate.

Then slowly, a staircase began to rise from the depths of the ground, its steps leading down into a thick darkness that seemed to call him closer, whispering promises of secrets long hidden from the light.

Winter’s eyes widened. “An underground passage?”

“Exactly.” He took her hand. “Move quickly, before...”

The words died on his tongue, when an explosion shattered the forest behind them. A wave of heat slammed into their backs, scattering debris and ash.

“The hunters!” Winter almost shouted it.

So Prince Red pulled her immediately down the steps. Just as they reached the bottom, the entrance sealed shut above them, and the flames surged over their heads, plunging them into complete darkness.

Far above, is the rumbling noises and chaos ruled.

The hunters were thrown off their feet as the sky suddenly split open. A gigantic black figure swooped down from the clouds, its wings stretching wider than the treetops, and its eyes glowed like molten coals.

Valcanar, the Black Dragon had arrived.

The mountain trembled under the force of its roar, sending birds fleeing and trees quaking. This sound was a chilling echo of an ancient creature, its voice steeped in a history of rage and grief.