THE AWAKENING MIST
1143 Words
The sound of wings gradually faded away, leaving behind just the soft rustling of leaves. Winter's chill swept in with quick breaths as she turned to look over her shoulder, seeing nothing but mist and the shimmering outlines of trees.
But the forest felt alive as if it watching them.
The man,still limping, blood seeping through his torn shirt,moved ahead, scanning the ground for safe footing. “This way,” he said, with voice low. “The eastern ridge will hide us until dawn.”
Winter wrapped her fingers around her wrist, feeling the gentle pulse of the bronze watch beneath her skin. Each soft glow felt like a heartbeat, steady, alive, and almost as if it had a mind of its own. When they reached the ridge, she paused. Below, far in the valley, she could see her home, the small cabin her father built with rough wood and love. A single light still burned in the window, flickering faintly through the fog.
She whispered, almost to herself, “I’ll be back soon.” Her words tasted like a promise, and a goodbye.
From the distance came the faint sound of horns, sharp and cruel, echoing through the forest. The Hunters were closing in.
“They’ve found our trail,” the man said, his jaw tightening.
Winter turned to him. “You never told me your name.”
He hesitated, then said quietly, “Kael.”
“Kael…” she repeated, testing the sound of it. “What are you really?”
He met her eyes, those golden-tinged eyes flickering like embers. “Something that shouldn’t exist anymore.”
Before she had a chance to say anything, the forest seemed to tremble. A wave of warmth swept through the air, causing the mist to twist and turn. Suddenly, the bronze watch sprang to life, its light bursting into golden spirals that danced and traced symbols in the darkness.
Kael stumbled back, shielding his face. “Winter stop!”
“I’m not doing anything!” she cried. The light surged brighter, wrapping around her arm like living fire. The markings on the watch rearranged, spinning like gears of ancient magic.
Then a profound and resonant growl emanated from the depths of the forest, a sound that was both low and powerful, imbued with an undeniable vitality. This deep rumble seemed reverberating through the layers of rock and soil, as if the ground itself were awakening from a long slumber.
Winter fell to her knees, clutching her wrist. Her vision blurred, her heartbeat matched the pulse of the light. She could feel something ancient stirring, something bound to her blood, to her soul.
“Winter!” Kael shouted, grabbing her shoulders. “You have to control it! The dragon’s awakening too soon!”
“I can’t...” she gasped, tears streaking down her face. “It’s burning!”
The ground cracked beneath them, and from the fissures rose a shimmering mist shaped like wings, vast, bronze, and ethereal. The roar that followed wasn’t just sound, it was memory, a voice older than time, calling its master by name.
Then everything went silent.
Winter collapsed into Kael’s arms, unconscious. The watch dimmed again, though a faint ember still glowed within it, steady and alive.
Kael looked toward the forest, his expression grim. The Hunters’ torches were already flickering through the mist. He whispered to the sleeping girl, “Your guardian’s waking, Winter. Let’s hope it chooses you before they find us.”
He lifted her and disappeared into the trees, just as the first hound’s cry broke through the night.
-------------------------------------------------
Then, a faint sound echoed through the air, rhythmic and hollow, gently pulling Winter back to the surface of consciousness. As her eyes fluttered open, she was greeted by a dim golden glow, the last flicker of a torch wedged between the cracked walls. The air was thick with the scent of moss and dust, a reminder of the passage of time. She found herself lying on a cold stone slab, her head resting on a neatly folded cloak. Across from her, the wounded man, Kael, knelt beside a massive stone wall adorned with intricate carvings. Strange markings spiraled across its surface, depicting dragons, runes, and what appeared to be a fierce battle between men and beasts.
“Where… are we?” Winter whispered, her voice hoarse.
When Winter finally opened her eyes, the world around her felt as if it were weighed down by stone and silence. A faint orange glow from a flickering torch cast shadows on the damp walls of what seemed to be either a cave or a long-forgotten temple, lost to the passage of time. Pillars adorned with strange symbols towered around her, their bases nearly consumed by moss and creeping roots.
She tried to sit up, but her body protested. Every muscle ached as if she had carried the whole forest on her shoulders.
“Easy,” said a familiar voice.
Winter turned. The man Kael, as he had called himself, was kneeling beside a small fire. But now, in the light, she saw something new. The strange golden hue in his eyes seemed brighter, his skin no longer sickly pale. The wound on his chest had almost vanished.
She tried to sit up, but her body protested. Every muscle ached as if she had carried the whole forest on her shoulders.
“Where are we?” she asked again.
“In a forgotten temple,” he said quietly, brushing ash from his hands. “No one’s been here for centuries. It’s where my kind once sought refuge.”
Winter frowned. “Your kind?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stood and walked toward one of the walls. The carvings shimmered faintly as he passed his hand over them. The lines of light followed his touch, through his hand the ancient etching was awakened, it was the warriors with winged beasts, kings crowned in flame, and dragons soaring across stormy skies.
Winter rose slowly, captivated by those images. “What is this place?”
“This,” he said softly, “is where my ancestors made their oath to the dragons. To protect them, even when the world turned against them.”
She stepped closer, tracing a symbol that looked like a dragon’s eye surrounded by flames. “You said you’re cursed. Does this have something to do with that?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “It does.”
“Then tell me,” she said. “Who are you really?”
He turned toward her, eyes glowing faintly in the torchlight. “My name isn’t Kael.”
Winter tilted her head. “Then what is it?”
He took a slow breath, as if speaking the truth might wake ghosts. “My name is Red. Crown Prince of Dravenour Kingdom, the lost kingdom of dragons.”
- Writer
