It had been almost thirty years since Toro Amaniwen, the Bringer of Ash, had gone to confront the dragon.
Many in the kingdom of Norea had hoped he would return victorious. Many had believed he would bring back the Last Sword of Bamono, the mythical blade said to be guarded by a dragon in a cave at the foot of the eternal volcano, Kimonija.
His quest had been simple in purpose: to retrieve the sword and use its power to free Norea, and the greater continent of Amfua, from the iron grip of the Braunian Empire. A strange people from across the sea, the Braunians had arrived in sleek metal boats, wielding sticks that spat fire and ash. For over a century, they waged war across Amfua, conquering kingdom after kingdom, erasing traditions, and replacing native customs with their own.
Though many tribes had once wielded magic, it remained a mystery how the Braunian Empire— with its unknown technologies —had defeated the mages and warriors of old Norea. So much time had passed that nearly all history had been erased. The old ways had been forgotten, and belief in magic was now ridiculed. Those who claimed to carry the blood of the dragon were labeled mad, or worse, hunted by the empire.
Yet, there was one truth that none could deny: the Braunian Empire's rule was oppressive. And if there was any chance of finding a magical solution, it was worth chasing.
That had been Toro Amaniwen's justification. But no one had seen or heard from him since.
Hope had withered. Some abandoned the cause. Others embraced Braunian customs, deciding they no longer needed magic at all.
But if ever there was someone who needed magic, it was Orvae, son of Bokili.
He was running through the damp forest floor of the Great Darron Woods, just outside the town of Deiamy, carrying the limp, bloodied body of his closest friend, Bravae.
The two of them had attempted the impossible: steal a box of gold from the Braunian castle. Though they'd planned everything with care, the escape had unraveled into chaos. They managed to seize the box. But were spotted during their escape. The chase had been brutal. Bravae was shot, and Orvae, with no other choice, abandoned the gold to save his friend.
He had managed to stop the bleeding with a strip of cloth tied tight around Bravae's thigh. But the wound was deep, and Bravae had already lost a lot of blood.
Now, Orvae ran with heavy steps, his legs aching, his breath ragged. He didn't know where he was going. The twisting forest paths had confused him. Worse, he could still hear the Braunian soldiers in the distance. Footsteps. Shouts.
"They're gaining on me… I need to hide," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Exhausted, he paused and looked around for any kind of shelter. That's when he saw it: an old redwood tree, long dead, with a hollowed-out trunk above the gnarled roots. It looked eerie, almost as if it were watching him, but it was the only option.
He pushed Bravae's body into the dark cavity and slipped in after him. The space was damp, cold, and smelled of wet earth and insects. Orvae tried not to think about what else might be sharing the hole.
Bravae stirred slightly beside him.
Orvae wrapped an arm around him and whispered, "Relax, friend. We're going to be fine."
He sighed, took off his mask, and let it drop onto the floor of the hollow.
The sound of approaching boots grew louder.
"Keep searching the area! They can't be far!" shouted a voice in Braunian.
"I think they're gone, Commander," another replied.
"They can't be gone. The blood trail ended only a mile back. I've followed it since the castle. They're still close. I can feel it."
Orvae's heartbeat thundered in his chest as the voices moved closer.
He reached over and covered Bravae's mouth to keep him from making a sound.
After a moment, another soldier muttered, "They're not here. I say we move on."
"No. We have to find them. And recover the gold. Do you want to face the General without it?" the first voice snapped.
"Goddammit. Fine. Spread out. Keep looking."
Boots crunched leaves as the soldiers dispersed.
Bravae stirred again, groggy and disoriented.
"Where… where am I?" he mumbled into the darkness.
"Hey. Shh. The Braunians are still looking for us," Orvae whispered urgently.
"Braunians? What are you… Who are you?" Bravae muttered, confusion clouding his face.
"It's okay. I'll get you to safety soon," Orvae said, gently patting his chest.
"Water… I need water… please," Bravae rasped.
Orvae fumbled in his satchel for his drinking gourd. Empty.
He cursed silently. Then remembered, he'd passed a small spring not far from here. Maybe a few hundred feet back. It had looked clean, untouched.
But leaving Bravae here, even for a moment, was a risk.
He weighed the risk against the reward. He didn't want to leave Bravae alone, but he had no choice. He needed water, or his friend wouldn't survive.
"Okay, Bravae. Stay here and wait for me," he whispered. "I'm going to get you some water."
Slowly, Orvae crawled out of the hollow and peeked around. The forest was still. Seeing no one, he slipped from the tree and made his way cautiously toward the spring. When he arrived, he dropped to one knee and dipped his gourd into the water.
That's when he heard it.
Click.
A familiar, chilling sound behind him. Every hair on his body stood on end.
"Get down on the ground," barked a voice —in Norean.
Orvae froze. The gourd slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. Slowly, he knelt.
"Put your hands where I can see them!"
He raised his hands in surrender.
"I think I've found one of them!" the soldier called out, this time in Braunian.
Footsteps thundered through the forest. Within seconds, a dozen soldiers surrounded him, rifles pointed. One grabbed his wrists and yanked him up. Just as another drove a gut-punch into his stomach.
Orvae gasped and coughed blood.
"Where is the gold?" the first soldier demanded, still speaking Norean.
"I— I don't know what you're talking about," Orvae stammered.
The soldier chuckled, a dry, mirthless laugh. Then he drew his sword and slowly pressed it into Orvae's side.
Orvae screamed. Birds scattered from the trees.
"Now do you know what I'm talking about?" the soldier growled.
"I'm just a farmer— I came to find seeds, I swear—" Orvae began.
But the blade pushed deeper. He cried out again.
"Show us where the gold is… if you want to live."
"Okay! Okay, I'll show you! Just stop!"
"Good. Lead the way," the soldier sneered, shoving him forward. The others followed in single file.
—⚔—⚔—⚔— —⚔—⚔—⚔—
Meanwhile, Bravae stirred in the darkness. His body felt cold and hot at once. His leg throbbed with pain. He was starting to remember, flashes of the castle, the chase, the shot.
Where was Orvae?
He rolled in the damp hollow, gasping for breath. He tried to crawl, but his left leg was dead weight. Panic set in. Then, something caught his eye.
A faint red glow.
It pulsed gently from the far end of the hollow, nestled in the soil. He couldn't see what it was, but it pulled at him, like a whisper in the dark.
He turned and dragged himself toward it.
The closer he got, the brighter it glowed, shifting from red to brilliant orange. Strange whispers filled his ears, an ancient language singing through the silence. It felt like a trance.
Finally, he saw it clearly: a hilt, half-buried.
He hesitated, then reached out and gripped it.
Everything changed.
A surge of heat rushed through his veins, powerful, overwhelming, yet... comforting. He tried to pull his hand back but couldn't. The glow intensified, illuminating the entire hollow.
The soil loosened. The blade emerged, massive, glowing orange, radiating searing heat.
And Bravae felt it.
Power.
As if the sun and moon lived inside his chest.
He rose, muscles renewed. Strength returned. He lifted the sword high, and the forest exploded.
—⚔—⚔—⚔— —⚔—⚔—⚔—
Flames burst from the hollow. The great tree shattered. Heat rolled across the ground in a wave of ash and fire.
The soldiers escorting Orvae stopped dead.
"What was that?!" one shouted.
"Bomb?" another asked in Braunian.
"There aren't any bombs in this area, only HQ has those!"
"Wait— what's that?"
Through the smoke, a figure emerged.
A fiery being with molten-orange skin, holding a sword as wide as his chest and longer than any they had ever seen. It glowed like a dying star.
Bravae.
Orvae's eyes widened. "Bravae?"
The figure pointed the sword forward.
"It looks hostile! Open fire!"
Gunfire rang out. Round after round hit the figure, but it didn't move.
Then it charged.
Fast. Precise. Terrifying.
It carved through the soldiers like an axe through wood. Slashes so quick they barely had time to scream. Blood sprayed into the air as one soldier was cut across the face and launched into a tree.
The others opened fire in panic.
Bravae responded by sweeping toward the flank, slicing two soldiers' feet clean off, then kicking them into the brush.
Five dead. Then six. Then eight.
The air around him boiled. Skin blistered from the heat alone.
"Retreat!" the commander yelled.
Soldiers turned and ran.
Orvae dove behind the bushes.
But Bravae wasn't done.
He raced after the retreating men and leapt into the air, so high, he seemed to fly. At the apex, he raised his sword overhead with both hands and came crashing down.
BOOM!
The blade slammed into the earth, unleashing a blast that annihilated everything within sixty meters. Trees evaporated. Grass turned to glass. Ash rained down.
Only one soldier survived, barely. He turned and ran, screaming, back toward the castle.
—⚔—⚔—⚔— —⚔—⚔—⚔—
Bravae collapsed against the sword. The glow faded. So did his.
His body was charred, clothes shredded, practically naked. Around him, a ring of scorched earth and ash stretched wide. The entire forest was blackened.
Orvae emerged from hiding and ran through the smoke.
He covered his face with cloth, coughing as he neared the center.
Bravae still knelt before the sword.
Orvae approached carefully.
"Bravae… are you okay?"
Bravae nodded weakly.
"Can you stand?"
"I think so…" Bravae muttered, pushing himself up with the sword.
He staggered.
"It's okay. I've got you." Orvae threw Bravae's arm over his shoulders.
Bravae yanked the heavy blade from the ground with a grunt.
"Orvae… where's the gold?"
"I dumped it in some thorn bushes about a mile back. You think we should go find it?"
Bravae shook his head. "No. Let's go. They'll be back."
Orvae stared at him, burned, glowing, sword in hand, and said nothing. He was still trying to believe what he'd seen.
Together, they turned toward the village, walking slowly through the ruined forest.
Behind them, the great ring of ash and melted earth smoldered in silence.
It was a night that would change their lives forever.