PART 1 — THE DRAGON DID NOT COME TO DESTROY THE KINGDOM

The first time Rowan saw the black dragon, he was standing in chains.

Rain slid down his torn cloak. Mud covered his boots. A dozen royal knights pointed their swords at his chest because one frightened noble had seen the strange glowing mark on his wrist and screamed, “Witch blood.”

Rowan was seventeen, hungry, nameless, and tired of being chased from every village in the kingdom.

Then the sky split open.

A shadow larger than the castle itself fell across the courtyard. Horses screamed. Nobles fled behind marble pillars. Torches died in the wind as a colossal black dragon descended from the storm-dark clouds.

But the beast did not breathe fire.

It did not crush towers.

It did not attack.

Its glowing amber eyes locked on Rowan.

The dragon lowered its massive head, so close Rowan could feel the heat of its breath against his face. Every knight froze.

From the balcony above, Queen Isolde went pale.

“No,” she whispered, gripping the stone

Rowan’s birthmark flared blue-gold beneath his sleeve.

The old royal advisor staggered backward as if he had seen a ghost. “That mark died with the lost prince.”

Rowan looked up at the dragon, voice shaking. “Why is it looking at me like it knows me?”

The dragon bowed.

Not to the queen.

Not to the crown.

To him.

And in that single moment, the entire kingdom realized the monster in the sky was not the danger.

The boy in chains was.

END OF PART 1