The forest beyond the Vale of Mourn was unlike any Elijah had seen. The trees grew tall and twisted, their branches curling toward the sky like blackened fingers. Leaves glimmered faintly with silver veins, and the air thrummed with magic — subtle, alive, and watchful.


“Elijah,” Kael said, adjusting the strap of his crossbow. “Stay close. These woods… they don’t forgive mistakes.”


Elijah followed, his sword sheathed but still warm from the Palace of Dust. The pendant around his neck pulsed softly, as if guiding him. He felt it more than saw it — a subtle tug toward the heart of the forest.


Hours passed in silence, broken only by the distant howl of some unseen creature. The forest floor was covered with mist, curling around their boots like living smoke. Then, at the center of a small clearing, Elijah saw it: a tree unlike any other.


Its trunk was wide enough to hide a house, bark gleaming like obsidian, and roots curling into the ground like giant coils of silver. But the most striking feature was its leaves — translucent, shimmering faintly gold, and moving as though whispering secrets to one another.


Kael stopped. “That’s the Whispering Tree. Old legends say it’s a remnant of the dragons’ first realm — a place where their voices linger in the world.”


Elijah approached cautiously. The pendant pulsed faster. When he laid a hand on the tree’s trunk, warmth radiated through him, almost like the pulse of a living heart.


A voice echoed, soft and distant, in his mind: “Flame-Bearer… child of fire… do you seek the path of the skies?”


Elijah froze. “Who’s there?”


“We are the whispers of dragons past. We linger where the world still remembers fire. You carry our blood, our spark. We have waited for you.”


Kael shifted uneasily. “You hearing that?”


Elijah nodded. “Yes… but it’s not Kael speaking.”


The whispers intensified, swirling around him like a warm breeze. Images flashed in his mind: mountains that breathed smoke, oceans alight with fire, dragons soaring through crimson skies. One figure lingered longer than the rest — a dragon with scales like molten gold and eyes like the heart of a star.


“The Vale grows. Shadows awaken. You must awaken too… or the flames will die before they burn.”


“What does that mean?” Elijah whispered aloud.


“The first shard lies beneath molten stone. You must claim it, bear it, and prove your heart. Only then will the path to kingship be yours.”


Elijah’s hand tightened around the pendant. “And if I fail?”


“Then the shadows will feast upon the world. And fire will sleep forever.”


The whispering slowed, fading until the tree was quiet. Elijah stepped back, breathing heavily, heart pounding with awe and fear. Kael’s eyes were wide, betraying the rare glimpse of respect.


“You heard it too,” Elijah said.


Kael nodded. “I did. But that tree… it doesn’t just whisper. It watches. And it tests.”


Elijah looked at the tree, its leaves glinting in the soft sunlight. “Then we have to move fast. If the shadows are already waking, we can’t wait for legends to decide the next step.”


Kael slung his crossbow over his shoulder. “Lead the way, Flame-Bearer. Let’s see if the dragons left a path for the likes of us.”


Elijah nodded, resolve hardening in his chest. The pendant’s warmth was steady now, like the heartbeat of a dragon within him. He could feel the path unfolding — distant mountains, ancient caverns, and challenges yet unseen.


Somewhere ahead, beyond the trees and mist, the first shard waited.


And with it, the first step toward becoming the Dragon King.