Black Stone
*********
Kael woke to the smell of smoke.
Not the sharp, choking kind that followed fire—but something calmer. Wood. Herbs. A low, steady burn.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Stone ceiling. Rough-hewn, cracked with age. A single lantern hung from an iron hook, swaying slightly. His body ached, but not the way it should have. No broken bones. No torn muscles.
He tried to sit up.
"Don't," a woman's voice said. "You'll tear what hasn't finished healing."
Kael froze.
She stood near the fire, back turned. Cloaked in dark gray, hair tied loosely, streaked with white though her face was not old. She stirred a pot with a wooden spoon, unhurried, as if dangerous men and dragons were not part of her daily concerns.
"Where am I?" Kael asked.
"My home," she said. "For now."
He pushed himself upright anyway. Pain flared along his arms and chest. He hissed and looked down.
The scales were still there.
Not spreading—but not gone either.
The woman turned then, eyes sharp and assessing. "You heal fast," she said. "Faster than last night."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You saw me."
"I pulled you out of the river," she replied. "You were glowing. Hard to miss."
"Why?"
She smiled faintly. "Because if the Order found you first, they'd have nailed your bones to a shrine."
That shut him up.
She moved closer, crouching beside him. Up close, he noticed the details: scars on her hands, burn marks along her wrists, eyes that missed very little.
"You have dragon blood," she said plainly.
Kael exhaled. "So I've been told."
"And you survived your awakening without exploding or going mad," she added. "That's rare."
"I killed people," Kael said.
"Yes," she replied. "And if you live long enough, you'll kill more."
He looked at her sharply. "That doesn't bother you?"
"It worries me," she said. "But it doesn't surprise me."
She stood and reached for a bundle wrapped in cloth. "Drink this."
"What is it?"
"Something to slow the change," she said. "Not stop it. Just slow it."
Kael hesitated, then drank. The taste was bitter and burned going down, but the heat under his skin eased slightly.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"People call me the Witch of Black Stone," she said. "I didn't choose the name."
Kael snorted. "Of course."
She met his gaze. "You triggered an old fire, boy. Dragons are gone, but their blood isn't. The Order exists for one reason—to make sure it never wakes again."
Kael clenched his fists. "Too late."
"Yes," she said softly. "Which means they'll come harder now."
Outside, faint in the distance, a horn sounded.
Both of them went still.
The witch sighed. "You didn't stay hidden long."
Kael swung his legs off the bed. "Then I'll leave."
She shook her head. "You don't understand yet."
"Then explain."
She looked at him carefully before speaking.
"Dragon blood doesn't just give power," she said. "It takes things. Your sleep. Your fear. Eventually, your mercy."
Kael swallowed.
"And if I fight it?"
"You'll burn from the inside," she said. "Or someone else will light the match."
Silence stretched between them.
Kael picked up his sword.
"Teach me," he said. "Enough to survive."
The witch studied him for a long moment.
Then she nodded once.
"Very well," she said. "But understand this—by the time we're done, the world won't see you as a man anymore."
Kael tightened his grip.
"I'm starting to think it never will."
And looking up, he felt the euphoria building in his body.
And outside the horns drew closer.