A light fog covered on the ground in the morning. The sun came up slowly, shining gently over the village.
Johnquis stood in the graveyard by the forest, where the grass was high and the soil was still new. Simple graves spread all around him, each marked with stones. So many had twisted. So many were buried here.
He stood before one grave—his mother's.
He said nothing.
He just stood there, fists tight, the wind blowing through his hair. The ring she gave him shone faintly in the morning light.
Purple wildflowers rested beside the stones. Tarah had placed them.
She stepped beside him, speaking softly.
"Your mother... she saved me when I had no one. I was just a scared child when my parents twisted. I didn't understand any of it. But she stayed. She held me through it. She made me strong."
Johnquis nodded and spoke quietly.
"Thank you… for ending her suffering. I told her I'd be the one… but I… I couldn't."
"I understand," Tarah said. "I know how it feels."
She touched his arm.
"Come on. Let's head back."
Down by the shore, something shifted in the fog.
A Wyrmwing—a large, winged wyrm—landed on the sand, kicking up dust as it touched down.
A man in black armor climbed off its back.
He stroked the creature's neck.
"Easy now… We saw smoke from here last night. The king will lose it if we don't check. Ugh, always making me move my lazy ass…"
He looked around, stretching his back and yawning. Then he laughed to himself.
"Hope it's nothing. I skipped breakfast."
—
In the forest, Tarah and Johnquis were walking back when they saw a figure through the trees.
"Wait," Tarah whispered, eyes narrowing. "Look."
It was the man in black armor.
Johnquis froze. The words from his mother echoed in his mind: "If you ever see a man in black armor... hide."
But it was too late. The man noticed them.
"Oh? Whoa there!" he said, stepping back, hands raised. "Didn't mean to scare you, kids!"
Johnquis moved behind Tarah. She raised her matchlock gun.
"Whoa, whoa—hold up that's not very friendly," the man said, hands up. "That's a—what is that? Fire stick? Boom rod? I've never seen anything like it!"
"Back away," Tarah warned.
"I love it," he said, "Seriously. Can I touch it? No? Okay. Just asking."
Johnquis pulled out both his daggers. One of them was connected to his bracelet by a chain.
The man blinked in surprise. "You're geared. That's new! Who made them? He must be really skilled. You have to introduce me!"
"Johnquis, go!" Tarah shouted.
He nodded, turning fast.
"Oh come on—don't run, that's suspicious!"
Tarah fired.
BOOM!
The shot flew past the man and hit a tree behind him. The recoil made her step back slightly, smoke drifting from the barrel.
"Whoa!" the man shouted, stumbling back. "That's LOUD!"
He ducked behind a tree, laughing. "Okay, okay! You win! That thing is amazing!"
Tarah started reloading quickly, hands steady.
Meanwhile, Johnquis ran. He tossed the chained dagger up, wrapped it around a branch, and swung high into the trees.
The man peeked around the trunk, watching him go.
Then he stopped smiling.
"No marks..." he said softly, eyes narrowing.
He stepped out from cover slowly, eyes now serious. "That boy... no purple marks. Not even one. He's clean."
Tarah had reloaded and aimed again.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said, calmer now. "But I need to speak with him. Please."
"You're not going near him."
The man sighed. "You don't understand. I was sent to find someone. A boy. No marks. A sign of nobility… maybe even royal blood. And I think... I just found him."
"Nobility? Royal blood? Stop talking nonsense!" Tarah said.
The man's smile faded completely.
"I don't have time to explain everything," he said. "But that boy really is a candidate. The kingdom needs him. Only someone like him can join the Dragonrite."
Tarah's eyes narrowed. "You're lying."
"Nope. I wish I was. Orders straight from the castle." He pointed toward the trees. "And now that I've seen him, I can't just walk away."
He turned and dashed into the woods.
"Stop!" Tarah shouted, firing another shot.
The bullet grazed a tree as the man sprinted through the forest, fast for someone in armor.
Up ahead, Johnquis swung between branches with his chained dagger, landing lightly and moving again.
He heard footsteps chasing him. Fast ones.
He threw his dagger again, wrapped it around a tree limb, and used it to flip high over a log.
But the man was right behind.
"Kid!" the man called. "You're fast! I'll give you that!"
Johnquis kept running. He leapt off a rock and spun around, daggers ready.
"Stay away from me!"
"I'm not here to hurt you," the man said, walking slowly now. "But I can't let you go."
Johnquis attacked—blades flashing, chain whipping through the air.
The man blocked, twisted, and knocked him off balance. Johnquis rolled, sprang back up, and slashed again.
The man caught his arm and threw him hard to the ground.
Johnquis gasped, trying to stand.
"You're a natural, kid," the man said. "Who would've thought we'd find someone like you out here? Someone special."
Johnquis kicked at him, but the man dodged and grabbed him again, pinning him.
"Get off me!"
"I can't. You're the one we're looking for. The few ones without marks. You were hidden for a reason."
Johnquis stopped moving, chest rising and falling fast.
The man looked down at him. "You have noble or royal blood. You're a candidate for the Dragonrite."
"No," Johnquis said. "What are you talking about? That's not true!"
"Sorry, kid. It is." He raised a fist. "And I don't have time to argue."
He punched him hard.
Everything went dark.
A moment later, the man carried Johnquis back to the clearing. His mount waited.
Tarah reached it too late. She ran out from the trees just as the creature spread its wings.
"Johnquis!" she screamed.
The man climbed up with Johnquis slumped over his shoulder.
"Tell your village," he called down. "The Dragonrite begins soon."
And with a strong flap of wings, they vanished into the sky.