The ash hit the back of his throat before he even saw the kid. It tasted like copper and burnt pine, thick enough to choke on.
Kaelen had only trudged up the volcanic ridge for fire-salts—nasty, expensive stuff rich alchemists used—not a rescue mission. But then he heard the squeak. It was a pathetic, high-pitched wheeze coming from under a collapsed ledge of cooling lava.
He dug him out with bare, ash-stained paws.
The hatchling was barely larger than a boot, shivering so hard his teeth rattled, scales charred black. But when the little guy blinked open two wide red eyes and flared his tail, Kaelen froze. Right along its ridge was a row of raw, crystalline gold—matching the bright, swirling gold stripes running up Kaelen’s own dark fur.
"Well," Kaelen muttered, pulling the warm, scrawny drake against his chest. "Guess you're coming with me."
They’ve been inseparable ever since. Family isn't something either of them ever planned, but it happened. They built a life out of scavenged trinkets and scraped knees, wandering frost-bitten lowlands and desert ruins, hunting down whatever shone. Ancient dragon bones, raw moonstones, gold coin— anything, it was fair game.
Their worst idea by far? The Sunfire Opal.
It was sitting inside a crumbling, drafty mountain fortress. Cinder—who was bigger now, though still small enough to ride Kaelen's shoulders—could feel the opal’s hum three valleys away. The air in that vault smelled like old dust and ozone, so cold every breath burned.
Cinder squirmed through a rust-choked air vent, his clawed feet making a faint click-clack-click against the iron. Below, Kaelen slipped past sleeping guards, keeping to the shadows.
Then came the mistake.
Cinder snatched the opal, but it wasn't on a pedestal. The stone was wired straight into the chest of an eight-foot iron sentinel.
The machine woke up with a hideous, grinding screech of rusted gears.
The construct swiped a heavy iron fist, barely missing the drake. Kaelen leaped onto the thing's chest, taking a brutal backhand to the ribs that sent him sprawling across the stone floor, spitting blood.
Cinder squeaked in terror but didn't run. The little idiot hissed, flew straight onto the sentinel’s neck, and jammed his sharp, gold-tipped tail directly into the glowing neck seam. Sparks erupted in a blinding, white-hot shower. The smell of fried copper filled the air as the automaton shuddered, froze, and collapsed like a pile of scrap metal.
Kaelen didn't waste time. He scooped up the stunned drake, shoved the opal into his pouch, and scrambled out the window into the rain just as the alarm horns started screaming.
They spent the night huddled in a damp cave, bruised, bleeding, and sharing a strip of dried meat. Cinder curled up against Kaelen's side, purring like a rusty engine while clutching the opal under his chin. Kaelen wiggled his sore ribs, looked down at his tiny, terrifying brother, and finally let out a tired, breathless laugh.
Pengu
Kia Name: Kaelen
Prompt:
The ash hit the back of his throat before he even saw the kid. It tasted like copper and burnt pine, thick enough to choke on.
Kaelen had only trudged up the volcanic ridge for fire-salts—nasty, expensive stuff rich alchemists used—not a rescue mission. But then he heard the squeak. It was a pathetic, high-pitched wheeze coming from under a collapsed ledge of cooling lava.
He dug him out with bare, ash-stained paws.
The hatchling was barely larger than a boot, shivering so hard his teeth rattled, scales charred black. But when the little guy blinked open two wide red eyes and flared his tail, Kaelen froze. Right along its ridge was a row of raw, crystalline gold—matching the bright, swirling gold stripes running up Kaelen’s own dark fur.
"Well," Kaelen muttered, pulling the warm, scrawny drake against his chest. "Guess you're coming with me."
They’ve been inseparable ever since. Family isn't something either of them ever planned, but it happened. They built a life out of scavenged trinkets and scraped knees, wandering frost-bitten lowlands and desert ruins, hunting down whatever shone. Ancient dragon bones, raw moonstones, gold coin— anything, it was fair game.
Their worst idea by far? The Sunfire Opal.
It was sitting inside a crumbling, drafty mountain fortress. Cinder—who was bigger now, though still small enough to ride Kaelen's shoulders—could feel the opal’s hum three valleys away. The air in that vault smelled like old dust and ozone, so cold every breath burned.
Cinder squirmed through a rust-choked air vent, his clawed feet making a faint click-clack-click against the iron. Below, Kaelen slipped past sleeping guards, keeping to the shadows.
Then came the mistake.
Cinder snatched the opal, but it wasn't on a pedestal. The stone was wired straight into the chest of an eight-foot iron sentinel.
The machine woke up with a hideous, grinding screech of rusted gears.
"Cinder, jump!" Kaelen yelled, abandoning stealth completely.
The construct swiped a heavy iron fist, barely missing the drake. Kaelen leaped onto the thing's chest, taking a brutal backhand to the ribs that sent him sprawling across the stone floor, spitting blood.
Cinder squeaked in terror but didn't run. The little idiot hissed, flew straight onto the sentinel’s neck, and jammed his sharp, gold-tipped tail directly into the glowing neck seam. Sparks erupted in a blinding, white-hot shower. The smell of fried copper filled the air as the automaton shuddered, froze, and collapsed like a pile of scrap metal.
Kaelen didn't waste time. He scooped up the stunned drake, shoved the opal into his pouch, and scrambled out the window into the rain just as the alarm horns started screaming.
They spent the night huddled in a damp cave, bruised, bleeding, and sharing a strip of dried meat. Cinder curled up against Kaelen's side, purring like a rusty engine while clutching the opal under his chin. Kaelen wiggled his sore ribs, looked down at his tiny, terrifying brother, and finally let out a tired, breathless laugh.
2026-08-30 16:12:12
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