Dylan Drakon's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Dylan stepped onto the cracked ice and froze. A figure already stood at the platform's edge, back turned, arms raised. Above them both, the dragon carved slow circles through the steam. Dylan's chest tightened. Months of patient tracking, and someone else had reached the heart of the hollow first. Behind the stranger rose a tall stone shrine, its cracked face strung with red prayer flags and ringed by small offerings. Dylan knew the shape from old stories. This was a place where people came to beg for a soul-bonded dragon. The stranger was no rival tracker. The stranger was a believer, kneeling for a gift Dylan had spent his life trying to earn. At the stranger's feet sat a wooden chest carved with a black and emerald dragon crest. Beside it, a basin of blackened stone held burnt scales, melted snow pooling at its rim. The stranger had been burning offerings, calling the dragon down with fire and faith. Dylan's stomach turned. He had measured wing angles. This person had simply asked. The dragon dipped lower. Dylan opened his mouth to shout, to warn, to claim — and stopped. He closed his ledger and set it in the snow. For the first time in his life, he did nothing. The dragon's shadow passed over them both, and only one shadow lingered.