Hazel's heart skipped a beat as her mother's voice, urgent and strained, sliced through the stillness of their home.
"Hide, Hazel. Now!"
Hazel's wide, fearful eyes locked onto her mother, a figure of strength and calm in the midst of the chaos. But today, even her mother's unwavering composure was tinged with an edge of panic that Hazel had never seen before. The woman, usually so steady, was trembling. Her hand gripped Hazel's arm with a force that sent a chill down her spine.
"What's happening? What's—" Hazel's voice faltered, her throat constricting in fear. She had no words to describe the coldness seeping into her bones.
But her mother didn't answer. Instead, she shoved Hazel toward the cellar door beneath the floorboards.
"Go!" her mother insisted, pushing Hazel with an urgency that felt wrong, out of place.
Hazel hesitated, her feet unmoving as her heart raced. She looked over her shoulder, at the flames flickering in the distance. "The dragons?" she whispered, a knot forming in her stomach.
Her mother's face softened, but the fear never left her eyes. "The dragons are here, Hazel. You know what that means. It's begun. Now, go!"
The winds outside had begun to howl, tearing through the village, and Hazel could hear the distant shouts of people in panic, their screams mingling with the crackling sounds of flames. A shrill, high-pitched wail cut through the wind, and it wasn't just the storm anymore. It was the sound of something far worse.
Her feet finally moved, and she ran, slipping down into the cellar with one last glance at her mother. The door closed with a muffled thud, the sounds of the world outside muffling into a distant hum.
The cellar was cold and damp, but Hazel's pulse was too loud for her to notice the chill. She crouched in the corner, breath shallow, her fingers trembling as she gripped the sides of the stone wall. She heard the soft thump of her own heart, the breath in her throat loud in the silence, but then, the noise outside grew. It started as a low rumble, like the earth itself was trembling.
A roar followed, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated the very air around her. It came from above, from the sky.
Hazel's eyes widened, her body frozen in terror. She knew that sound. Everyone did. She had heard the stories, the warnings. The dragons. They had come.
The rumbling intensified, and then it happened. The first blast of heat hit the house. It was sudden, sharp, and intense, like the air had turned to fire. The walls groaned in protest as if the very structure of the house was being torn apart from the outside.
Hazel pressed her hands over her ears, but the roar of the dragon's breath was deafening. The temperature around her spiked, the heat of the flames clawing at the walls and threatening to engulf her.
And then came another roar, even louder than the first.
Hazel scrambled to her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could hear the sound of something huge, something monstrous, moving closer. Something… dangerous. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble, and a loud crack rang out. The sound of wood splintering. Something heavy had landed nearby, too near.
The cellar door rattled as if it might be torn from its hinges. Hazel's heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. She pressed herself into the corner, hoping the darkness would swallow her up and keep her hidden. But she couldn't stop the fear from clawing at her insides, the fear of what was happening outside.
The heat was unbearable now, and the roar was deafening. It was all around her.
She could hear it clearly now, the sound of massive wings beating the air, the terrifying screech of something ancient, something far too powerful. A scream tore through the air, loud and ear-piercing, and it was not just the wind. It was the dragons.
Then, just as suddenly, the noise stopped. There was a stillness, a heavy silence that pressed down on Hazel's chest.
And then—fire.
The flames came next. They curled through the cracks in the walls and crept beneath the cellar door. It was a blistering, overwhelming heat that consumed everything in its path. The cellar was now suffocating, filled with the stench of burning wood and ash.
Hazel's breath hitched as she scrambled back, fear choking her throat. The fire was close. So close.
The door to the cellar cracked open just a fraction, a gust of smoke and heat spilling through the tiny gap. Hazel's chest tightened. It was happening. The dragons had breached the house. The village was in flames. The air was thick with the sound of their roars, their wings mighty and terrible, as if the very heavens had descended to claim the earth.
From the small crack in the cellar door, Hazel could make out the faint silhouette of one of the dragons through the smoke. A massive, towering figure, its scales shimmering like silver beneath the haze of flames. Its eyes, glowing amber like molten lava, pierced the smoke, searching, hunting. The beast's jaws were parted, and Hazel could almost hear the crackle of fire within its throat. The silver dragon was the first to breach the house. Its breath, pure and fiery, had turned the once-sturdy walls to ash in seconds.
Behind it, two other figures emerged from the smoke, vast, dangerous shapes that moved with a terrifying grace. One was as black as midnight, its scales absorbing the light, its massive wings casting shadows over the wreckage. The other was brown, large and primal, its movements slower but no less menacing. The brown dragon's roar rumbled deep, sending a shiver through the ground beneath her feet.
She could barely breathe in the suffocating air, her body trembling. There was no escape. The dragons were inside, their fire consuming everything in their path.
Hazel's fingers dug into the stone floor, her body shaking with the effort to keep herself hidden. The world outside was on fire, and the dragons had arrived.
They were here.
Twenty years had passed, and now they had come. They were here, inside her home, and there was nothing she could do.