The Crimson Sky
The sky had never looked like this before.
A storm of burning ash drifted across the heavens, coating the dying world in shades of gray and red. Smoke billowed from what was once a quiet, peaceful village. Trees near the outskirts of Wu Mountain were blackened as if charred by lightning, their trunks hollowed, their branches twisted. And in the middle of a vast scorched crater, a single child stood motionless.
He was barefoot. Thin. Hair pale as moonlight, streaked with black that shimmered faintly under the bloody sky. His clothes were torn, barely hanging onto his frame. His golden left eye glowed softly; his right eye, a deep violet, pulsed like the last ember in a dying fire.
His name… was Zhen.
He was six years old.
And he had no idea what he had done.
The Aftermath
Villagers screamed in the distance. A woman wept. Somewhere, the clanging of a warning bell echoed from a crumbling tower.
Zhen stood frozen, his hands still raised instinctively, as if shielding himself from something. The air around him shimmered with heat, though no flame remained.
"I didn't mean to…"
His voice was dry, barely audible.
The last thing he remembered was fear. A boy had pushed him down again. Called him names. Told him he wasn't normal, wasn't wanted. There had been yelling. Then heat. Light. Screams.
Then darkness.
And now… silence.
The pendant around his neck—a simple black cord holding a faintly glowing wing-shaped stone—was warm against his chest. It throbbed in sync with his heartbeat.
The Arrival of Master Yun
Footsteps.
Heavy, limping, urgent.
Through the haze, a figure appeared. Broad-shouldered, covered in soot, beard singed and eyebrows nearly gone. His face was hardened by years of labor, yet in his eyes was a flicker of fear—and concern.
"Zhen'er!"
It was Old Master Yun, the village blacksmith. Not his blood, but the only person Zhen had ever called family. He had found the boy six winters ago wrapped in dragon-scaled silk beside the old altar stone near the mountain's base.
Yun fell to his knees before the boy, gripping his shoulders gently.
"Are you hurt? Can you move?"
Zhen shook his head slowly. "I didn't want to hurt anyone…"
Yun looked around. The destruction was unnatural—too focused, too clean. Entire buildings were reduced to ash, but not a single flame remained. No wildfire could do this.
His eyes drifted to Zhen's arms. Glowing, shifting markings had formed—curving symbols, one side white, the other dark like ink.
"No… not yet," Yun muttered.
Then his gaze hardened.
"They'll come for you now."
The Prophecy
Later that night, they sat together in the ruins of Yun's forge, the coals cold, the tools scattered. Zhen shivered beneath a soot-covered cloak, staring at the glowing winged pendant in his hand.
"Master Yun," he whispered. "I had the dream again."
Yun froze. "Tell me."
"There were two dragons. One made of light… and one of shadows. They were wrapped around a broken world. They were fighting… no—protecting something."
He looked up, eyes wide. "I think they were crying."
Yun's hand trembled. He reached into an old, rusted box and pulled out a wrapped bundle. Inside lay a burnt scroll and a golden ring, covered in ancient script. He hesitated… then handed them both to Zhen.
"I never wanted to give you these. But I believe your parents… left them for when the day came."
Zhen's breath caught. "My… parents?"
Yun nodded slowly. "They weren't ordinary, Zhen. And neither are you."
The Flame Dream
That night, as he held the pendant close and fell into a restless sleep, he dreamed again.
A sky of stars. A woman floating in light. Her eyes were the color of dawn. Her hair flowed like a silver river. Horns curled from her head, glowing with divine warmth.
"My son…"
Her voice pierced the void.
Behind her, a colossal dragon of darkness rose—eyes like dying suns, wings spanning stars, its body wreathed in silence and shadow.
"You are born of flame and void. Of light… and of me.""When the stars burn red, and the heavens call for blood—run no longer. Rise."
Zhen reached out—tears rolling down his cheeks—but the vision shattered into smoke.
He awoke gasping, chest burning, the mark on his skin glowing like a brand.
The Soul Purging Sect
By morning, the world came knocking.
Three men in bone-white robes stood at the village gate, masks shaped like weeping spirits. The Soul Purging Sect—hunters of forbidden bloodlines and divine deviations. They'd followed the energy pulse to Wu Mountain.
One pointed toward the village center.
"There. That child."
Villagers parted, whispering in fear.
Master Yun stepped between them and Zhen.
"You will not touch him."
The lead purifier drew a scroll. "That boy is not natural. That blood is dangerous."
Zhen stepped back, heart pounding.
Not again… not again…
The moment the scroll's light touched him, the pendant around Zhen's neck blazed.
A deafening roar filled the air.
A phantom claw—draconic, vast, and made of fire and darkness—burst forth from behind him, slamming into the man and launching him back into the mountain wall. The other two drew weapons.
Zhen collapsed, unconscious, as his aura faded.
The Escape
Yun didn't hesitate.
He lifted Zhen into his arms and ran toward the old hidden path that led beyond the cliffs. The path no one used. The one sealed with talismans no one could read.
At the forest's edge, Yun placed Zhen down gently and pressed the scroll and pendant into his hands again.
"This world will fear you before it understands you. But you are not evil, Zhen. Remember that."
"I don't want to go alone…" Zhen murmured weakly.
Yun's voice cracked. "Then grow stronger. So strong that no one will ever send you away again."
He turned back toward the village.
"Now go. And never come back until the sky bows to you."
A Child and the Stars
That night, beneath a crimson moon, a child stood alone on a cliff.
He looked down at the pendant. The scroll. The world.
He clenched his tiny fists.
"I don't know who I am…""But I'll find out."
"And when I do… the stars will remember my name."
Far above, in a sealed plane between realms, two slumbering dragon gods opened their eyes.
Their son had taken his first step.
To Be Continued..