The rain had started before sunset and showed no sign of stopping.
It drummed relentlessly against the wooden roof of the small, crooked house at the edge of the village. The sound seeped through the walls, mixed with the wind howling outside and the occasional distant rumble of thunder.
Inside, the air smelled of cheap ale and damp wood.
Eleanor sat quietly at the small table near the window, sharpening a dagger with slow, practiced movements. The blade scraped against the whetstone in a steady rhythm.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Across the room, her mother laughed loudly.
It wasn't a pleasant sound.
The woman sat with three unfamiliar men, a bottle of liquor between them. Their cloaks were dark, travel-worn, and expensive enough to mark them as something more than simple villagers.
Merchants.
Or worse.
Eleanor didn't look up, but she listened carefully.
She always listened.
"You're asking too much," one of the men said, swirling his drink.
Her mother leaned back in her chair with a crooked smile.
"She's young. Healthy. Pretty enough if you clean her up. That alone is worth the price."
Eleanor rolled her eyes slightly.
Pretty enough?
She supposed that was the nicest thing the woman had said about her in years.
Another man spoke.
"We can find girls like that anywhere."
Her mother leaned forward suddenly, lowering her voice.
"Not like this one."
The room grew quieter.
Eleanor stopped sharpening the dagger but didn't move.
"…What do you mean?" the third man asked.
Her mother grinned.
The grin of someone who thought they held something valuable.
"She's not just any girl," she said. "She's royal."
Silence fell over the room.
Even the rain outside seemed quieter.
Eleanor slowly lifted her head.
Ah.
So this was the angle tonight.
The first man laughed.
"Royal?"
"Yes."
Her mother tapped the table confidently.
"She's the bastard daughter of the King of Valerion."
The men stared at her.
Then one of them snorted.
"That's a bold lie."
"It's not a lie."
Eleanor stood up.
The chair legs scraped against the floor loudly.
Four heads turned toward her.
Her hazel eyes were cold.
"You're raising the price again?" Eleanor asked flatly.
Her mother glared at her.
"Sit down."
"No."
Eleanor crossed her arms.
"If you're going to sell me, at least try a better story. The king? Really?"
The merchants exchanged amused looks.
One of them leaned back.
"She has your temper."
Her mother slammed her hand onto the table.
"It's true!"
The room went quiet again.
The woman pointed directly at Eleanor.
"I worked in the capital years ago. In the palace."
Eleanor's expression didn't change, but she listened.
The story was new.
"I caught the king's eye," her mother continued. "One night. That was all it took."
The merchants stared.
"And then?" one asked.
"Then I was thrown out when they realized I was pregnant."
Eleanor tilted her head slightly.
Interesting.
Her mother had never mentioned this before.
Not once.
"You expect us to believe that?" the first man said.
Her mother shrugged.
"Believe it or don't. But that girl's blood is royal."
The man looked at Eleanor again.
Slowly.
Evaluating.
The way traders inspect horses.
Eleanor met his gaze without flinching.
"If you're done talking about me like livestock," she said calmly, "I'm going outside."
Her mother stood abruptly.
"You're not going anywhere."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
"Watch me."
She walked toward the door.
One of the merchants chuckled.
"She doesn't seem very obedient."
"She will be," her mother snapped.
The door opened.
Cold rain blew into the room.
Eleanor stepped outside and closed it behind her.
The night air felt refreshing.
She exhaled slowly.
Royal blood.
That was a new lie.
Still… something about the way her mother said it bothered her.
Not the lie itself.
The certainty.
Eleanor rubbed the back of her neck.
"Doesn't matter," she muttered.
Inside the house, voices continued arguing.
Money.
Prices.
Ownership.
Eleanor's jaw tightened.
They really thought she would stay here and let herself be sold.
Idiots.
She walked toward the tree line at the edge of the village.
The forest loomed beyond it—dark, wet, and endless.
Dangerous.
Perfect.
Behind her, the house door burst open.
"ELEANOR!"
Her mother's voice cut through the rain.
Eleanor didn't stop walking.
"You get back here!"
Footsteps followed.
More than one set.
Of course.
The merchants.
Eleanor sighed.
"Well," she murmured, "that escalated quickly."
She broke into a run.
The mud made the ground slippery, but she moved fast, weaving between trees as she entered the forest.
Branches whipped past her.
Rain poured through the canopy.
Behind her, men shouted.
"She's running!"
"After her!"
Eleanor smirked slightly.
They underestimated her.
She had spent most of her life in these woods.
They hadn't.
Still, there were three of them.
And eventually…
Even she would get tired.
The forest grew steeper as she ran deeper inside.
Rocks and roots jutted out of the ground.
Thunder cracked overhead.
Eleanor's breathing grew heavier.
Behind her, the voices were getting closer.
One of them shouted.
"There she is!"
Damn.
She pushed herself faster.
Her foot slipped on wet stone.
For a split second, she lost her balance.
Then the ground disappeared beneath her.
"Oh—"
She fell.
Down a steep rocky slope hidden by the darkness.
Branches tore at her clothes.
Rocks scraped her arms.
The world spun violently before she crashed into the ground with a painful thud.
The air rushed from her lungs.
For several seconds, she couldn't breathe.
Rain poured over her face.
Eleanor groaned and slowly sat up.
Her arm stung.
When she looked down, she saw blood dripping from a shallow cut on her palm.
"Great," she muttered.
Then she noticed something.
A shape in the darkness.
Large.
Smooth.
Unnaturally round.
She stood slowly and stepped closer.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
For a brief moment, the forest lit up.
And Eleanor saw it clearly.
A massive egg.
Nearly the size of a carriage wheel.
Its surface shimmered faintly silver beneath the rain.
"What the hell…?"
She reached out instinctively.
Her bleeding hand brushed against the cold shell.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the ground trembled.
A deep cracking sound echoed through the forest.
Eleanor froze.
The egg began to glow.
Thin lines of light spread across its surface like fractures in ice.
Another crack split the night.
Something inside was moving.
And far beneath centuries of sleep…
A dragon opened his eyes. 🐉❄️