Chapter 17: The sunken Vault
Three weeks had passed since the fall of Vaelus.
Brimhold was healing—slowly. Its towers were half-rebuilt, the Flameborn had begun training again, and whispers of hope echoed in streets once filled with screams.
But I hadn’t slept.
Not really.
Because the sky had changed.
Not visibly—but to a dragon, to a creature born from soul and flame—the sky felt wrong. Off. Like it had been touched by something too cold. Too still.
Something that watched back when I looked at it.
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Visions from the Ash
Solin—the dragonling reborn from the Vault—had taken to silent meditation. Sometimes he spoke, but always in fragments. Other times, he simply drew shapes in the dirt: stars, runes, gates.
He was young... and yet impossibly ancient.