Rebirth of the Dragon Lord

Gray clouds rolled in from the east, promising a midday storm that matched the unease lingering in Coral Spit. The wind hissed across the stilted walkways, flapping palm leaves in ragged bursts. In a cramped corner of the village, a lean-to hut made of driftwood and woven reeds served as a makeshift shelter for the injured stranger from Stormrune.

Kano Sea-Glass knelt beside the unconscious man, dabbing seawater mixed with diluted medicinal herbs on the worst of his burns. Sweat collected at Kano's temples; partly from the clammy heat, partly from nerves. He'd never tended such serious wounds before, and the gloom inside the hut pressed in on him like a silent judge.

"Will he live?" came a soft voice from the doorway.

Kano jumped. Reina, his mother, stood there, worry etched into the faint lines around her eyes. She clutched an earthen jug of water against her chest.

"I—I don't know," Kano admitted, setting aside the half-empty bowl of murky liquid. "He's still burning up, even after the salve."

Reina slipped inside, her steps careful on the uneven floorboards. She poured fresh water into the bowl and handed Kano a clean rag. Through the cracks in the hut's walls, they could both see villagers passing by in tense clusters, as though each was trying to avoid lingering near anything tied to Stormrune.

They worked in silence. The man's ragged breath and the distant crash of waves were the only sounds. After a few moments, Reina's gaze flicked to her son's face. "You've been different, these past days," she observed quietly. "Waking up in the night, those strange headaches…"

Kano paused, turning the rag in his hands. He considered telling her about the visions—the violent images that seemed to spring from this very man's memories, or from some tangled link between them. But he could already imagine her reaction: fear, perhaps a worry that the strange dreams might stigmatize them even more.

"I'm just worried," he lied, not meeting her eyes. "We've never dealt with anything like this here."

Reina's expression wavered, torn between pressing him further and leaving it alone. Before she could decide, a commotion outside the hut drew both their attentions. They heard hurried footsteps and muffled shouts.

"Kano! Reina!" came a voice. Marro Sea-Glass—Kano's father.

They exchanged anxious looks, then Reina ducked outside with Kano following close. On the walkway, Marro stood with a baleful expression, flanked by a handful of villagers. A short distance behind them, a wiry elder named Hani Okoro—one of the council's representatives—peered around with disapproval etched into every line of her weathered face.

Marro cleared his throat. "The council wants answers about our…guest," he said, bitterness leaking into his voice. "They say we risk drawing trouble here."

Kano glanced back toward the lean-to, heart pounding. "He's still unconscious," he managed. "He can't tell them anything right now."

Elder Hani clicked her tongue. "Stormrune is but a faraway rumor to most of us—save for the tall tales of dragons and wealthy lineages. But those who come from war often bring war in their wake," she said, her voice sharp. "We're a small village with little means of defense."

Reina lowered her eyes. "Is the council…demanding we send him away?"

A hush settled over the gathered onlookers. Most of them looked uneasy, a few genuinely fearful. Finally, Hani lifted her cane, pointing it at the lean-to's entrance. "If he recovers, the council wishes him gone. The sooner the better."

Before Kano could protest, Marro placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Kano stiffened at the contact; his father rarely displayed open concern unless matters were dire.

"Listen," Marro said quietly to his son, "we have to tread carefully. The whole village already looks at us with suspicion. If we defy the council outright—"

Kano's pulse thundered in his ears. Part of him wanted to shout that Stormrune needed help, that they couldn't just turn away a wounded survivor. Another part realized how powerless they were. A tarnished family had no sway, no rights that wouldn't be easily trampled by the council's decree.

With no further debate, Hani Okoro tapped her cane on the walkway and turned to leave. "I'll return in two days," she announced over her shoulder. "By then, we'll decide how best to remove him from our shores."

The villagers dispersed, some in pity, others in relief. Marro exhaled a shaky breath, his grip still on Kano's shoulder. Reina stood off to the side, her face tense as she looked from husband to son.

Kano swallowed hard, gazing at the hut. Inside that cramped space lay a man who had traveled from the place haunting Kano's dreams. A man who might hold the key to understanding Stormrune—and the reason behind the battlefield nightmares that plagued Kano nightly. If the council cast him out, any chance to learn the truth might vanish.

"I need to talk to him," Kano blurted, more to himself than anyone else.

Marro's gaze flicked to Reina, then back to Kano. "Your mother and I will do what we can," he muttered. "But don't get your hopes up. We can't risk—"

His words died in his throat. The weight of their family's precarious position loomed over them: the unpaid levy, the threat of labor conscription, and the scorn of the entire village. They were lucky to be tolerated at all.

"I understand," Kano said, though his thoughts churned with defiance. He glanced once more toward the rumbling sky, wondering if fate—or something else—hadn't already set events in motion.

A heavy hush draped the village by the time Kano slipped back into the lean-to hut. Slanting rain pattered against the roof, creating a muffled drumbeat on the dried palm fronds. Candles flickered in the dim space, and the injured man's ragged breathing sounded loud in the stillness.

Kano settled onto a low stool beside him, careful not to jostle the meager bandages. For the moment, the man wasn't conscious enough to notice his visitor. Beneath the stained fabric of his scorched tunic, Kano caught a glimpse of that half-destroyed crest—a once-proud symbol from Stormrune. The swirl of a dragon's head surrounded by a crescent wave seemed to pulsate in Kano's mind, igniting more half-remembered images of roaring beasts and clashing swords.

He pressed cool water from a bowl onto the man's brow, remembering the herbal treatments his mother had shown him. The motion was almost automatic, his thoughts whirling with questions. Could this stranger confirm the reality of Stormrune's downfall? And why did those visions claw at Kano's dreams?

A sharp intake of breath startled him. The man's eyelids fluttered, and he mumbled something hoarse and unintelligible. Kano leaned in, straining to hear.

"...fortress…burning…they took…dragons…"

Suddenly, the stranger's eyes snapped open. Pupils frantic, he grabbed Kano's wrist with surprising strength. Kano tensed but did not pull away.

"You… there's something about you," the man rasped, voice scraping like gravel. He struggled to speak around his labored breathing. "You carry… a spark… Stormrune…?"

The question, or accusation, sent a chill up Kano's spine. "I—I don't understand," he said quietly, though the word Stormrune pulsed within him like a second heartbeat.

The stranger's grip tightened for a heartbeat longer, then his body relaxed, as if sapped of energy. He sank back, eyes drifting shut. In that brief instant, though, a flicker of clarity filled his gaze—like he'd recognized something in Kano that Kano himself could barely grasp.

Footsteps at the doorway made Kano glance up. Reina stood there, carrying a steaming bowl of thin porridge. Water dripped from her soaked shawl, but her face was set in a determined line. She took in the scene—the stranger's hand still clasping Kano's wrist—and her expression softened, if only a little.

"How is he?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"He came to for a moment. Spoke…strangely," Kano replied. He gently untangled his hand from the man's slackened grip. "He keeps saying something about dragons. And the fortress."

Reina knelt beside her son. She carefully felt the man's forehead, wincing at the fever's heat. "He's lucky to be alive, but…" Her gaze slid to Kano. "The council won't let him stay. If he can't recover quickly, they'll…"

She didn't need to finish. Kano could hear Elder Hani's voice echoing: We'll decide how best to remove him.

Reina offered the bowl of porridge to Kano. "Try to get him to sip some. It might help his strength."

Kano nodded and positioned himself to lift the man's head just enough for a spoonful. Most dribbled down his chin, but after a few attempts, some of the liquid slid down the man's throat. He coughed, then quieted, rasping something under his breath:

"Tariq… the name… Tariq Stormrune…"

Kano's heart lurched. That word—Tariq—flared in his thoughts like a bolt of lightning, calling up another torrent of disjointed memories: soaring on dragonback, the crash of catapults, the suffocating weight of a fortress collapsing. He nearly dropped the spoon, forcing himself to breathe.

Reina noticed his trembling hand. "Kano, are you—?"

"Fine," he lied, gently setting the spoon aside. "Just…tired."

But the truth rattled inside him: Tariq Stormrune. That name pressed at his mind like a half-forgotten vow. He could almost see a figure standing on a ruined battlement, sword raised against a monstrous dragon.

A rattle at the hut's flimsy doorframe cut through his thoughts. Marro appeared, rain-soaked and grim-faced. He held a folded piece of parchment, stamped with a crude seal.

"That council woman—Hani Okoro—gave me this," he said, voice tight. "They expect an answer soon."

Kano exchanged a worried look with Reina, then took the parchment. Carefully, he unwrapped the seal to reveal terse handwriting:

Council Edict

In two days' time, you will relinquish custody of the traveler.

The council will escort him away from Coral Spit by boat.

Any hindrance to this order will be considered an act of defiance.

Kano's jaw clenched. "They're not even pretending anymore," he murmured. They wanted to wash their hands of a man who might bring war—or, at the very least, trouble—to their remote shore.

Marro glowered at the parchment. "They're twisting the knife. If we argue, they'll punish us. Could even accelerate the levy or conscription. This traveler…" His gaze flicked to the man's still form. "He's not our concern."

A heavy silence settled over them, broken only by the patter of rain and the man's labored breathing. Kano knew his father wasn't heartless—only desperate to protect their family. To risk everything for a stranger from Stormrune, especially with a broken name, was near-certain ruin.

Yet the nightmares wouldn't relent. The snatches of memory—of Tariq Stormrune—pressed on Kano's mind as if urging him to act. He belongs to my dream somehow, Kano thought, or I to his.

He inhaled shakily. "We have two days," he said, folding the edict. "If he's still too weak to speak, we'll lose any chance to learn what happened at Stormrune… and why he came here."

Marro lowered his head, both worry and resignation carving lines into his weathered face. Reina set down the porridge and placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder, neither encouraging nor dissuading him.

In that uncertain moment, the traveler let out a faint groan, stirring in his fevered doze. Kano wasn't sure what drove him—pity? Duty? A pull he couldn't name?—but he silently vowed to learn the truth before the council snuffed out this connection to a destiny that might be his own.

Rain hammered Coral Spit through the night, rattling loose shutters and pooling in every dip of the boardwalks. By dawn, the storm had passed, leaving behind a dull, overcast sky. Despite the gloom, life in the village churned on—nets needed mending, canoes needed patching, and trade goods had to be readied for the day's buyers. The usual routines wore on, but Kano could sense an undercurrent of unease wherever he went. News about the injured Stormrune traveler had spread, and rumors rippled from house to house like an incoming tide.

With a knot in his stomach, Kano hovered near the lean-to hut at the edge of the village. He was supposed to be helping repair a fishing net with his father, but Marro had sent him away to keep him from "hovering." In truth, Kano suspected his father also wanted some space to think about the impossible predicament they faced. Two days. That was all the time left before the council returned to remove the traveler—by force, if needed.

A sudden cough from inside the hut snapped Kano's attention. He eased into the dim interior, where the battered man lay, half-propped on musty pillows Reina had scavenged. The traveler's eyes fluttered open, still glassy with fever but more alert than before.

"You're awake," Kano said softly, kneeling by his side.

The man's gaze flicked around, as though trying to make sense of his surroundings. After a moment, recognition sparked. He angled his head toward Kano, lips forming silent words before he finally managed to speak. "Wh-where…?"

Kano cleared his throat. "Coral Spit. A small fishing village in the…uh, the southern isles." He hesitated, unsure of whether to mention the council's threat. "You washed ashore two days ago."

A flicker of memory seemed to cross the man's face. "We were fleeing…" He paused, coughing hard enough to make Kano wince at the pain lancing through him. "Stormrune Keep… fell. They came with siege weapons… and—" His voice faltered, eyes distant. "They… harnessed dragons. Enslaved them."

Kano felt cold. He had no idea who "they" were, but the mention of dragons confirmed more pieces of the horrific images that still haunted his dreams. "Do you—do you remember your name?" he ventured.

The man's gaze shifted. "Brannis… Master-at-arms under House Stormrune," he croaked. "I served… Lord Tariq."

That name again—Tariq Stormrune. The one that echoed in Kano's head at night like a half-remembered battle cry. He swallowed. "I—um—I've heard that name," he said in a low voice. "Only…only as a rumor."

Brannis's eyes sharpened, as though he registered something behind Kano's words. "Rumor or not," he rasped, "Tariq Stormrune died defending the keep… but his Name—his essence—should have passed on to an heir. Unless the enemy did something to stop it."

Kano felt his pulse hammer. The color seemed to drain from the cramped hut. He could almost taste the ash and blood from the nameless fortress walls he'd seen in his nightmares. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered, "but I don't understand. I'm just a fisher boy."

Brannis gave a faint, bitter chuckle before pain caught him, forcing him into a ragged cough. When he recovered, he fixed Kano with a gaze laden with urgency. "If you're having these dreams," he said, "or if you feel an echo of Stormrune… it might be part of that essence. Sometimes, a Name reaches beyond blood if it can't find its rightful heir."

Kano's mouth went dry. Could that explain why he was haunted by battle visions and glimpses of a collapsing fortress? He felt a quake of possibility in his core—a thought both thrilling and terrifying. He was a runt from a broken lineage; this shouldn't be happening to him.

Before he could press Brannis for more, the flap of the lean-to scraped open. Reina stepped inside, carrying a clay cup steaming with an herbal infusion. "He's awake?" she asked, her tone gentle but guarded.

"He's…he's Brannis," Kano said, glancing at his mother. "A soldier from Stormrune. He remembers some things."

Reina knelt beside them, offering the cup to Brannis. He accepted it with a shaky hand, eyes downcast in gratitude. As he sipped, Reina took a breath and looked at Kano. "Your father's been asking for you. The council might send word earlier than we thought."

Kano grimaced, flashes of resentment stirring within him. Two days had already begun to feel like two minutes—time slipping through his grasp.

Brannis picked up on the tension. "Council?"

Reina exchanged a worried glance with Kano. After a beat, she said quietly, "They want you gone, Brannis. They fear what might follow if Stormrune's enemies learn you survived and ended up here."

A pained half-smile tugged at Brannis's lips. "If only they realized the danger is coming, regardless. The ones who took Stormrune won't stop. They'll keep conquering smaller isles, drafting dragons, crushing any who resist."

He was breathing harder, clearly straining against his wounds. Kano's thoughts whirled, imagining unstoppable war fleets and enslaved dragons leveling island after island. A gnawing certainty crept over him: Coral Spit might not be safe no matter what the council decides.

Soft footfalls sounded outside again. This time, it was Marro, stepping into the hut with grim purpose. He greeted Brannis with a curt nod—one man to another—but his main focus landed on Kano.

"The council wants me to 'update' them on the traveler's condition," Marro said. "We have one day, maybe less, before they demand he be taken away."

Brannis's face darkened. He tried to sit up straighter but winced from the effort. Kano could see the flicker of despair beneath the gruff soldier's gaze—a man who had watched his home burn, now facing expulsion from the only refuge he'd found.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally, Kano looked between his parents, heart pounding. "We can't hand him over," he said, a tremor in his voice. "He needs more time to heal—and to warn us about what happened at Stormrune."

Marro's jaw tightened, torn between paternal protectiveness and brutal realism. "This is bigger than us, boy. We have no authority here—and we can't risk defying the council. You know what they'll do to the Sea-Glass family."

But even as he said it, Marro's gaze dropped to Brannis's burns, and his posture sagged in reluctant empathy. Reina's eyes brimmed with quiet fear for both her son and the wounded man.

Brannis fixed his stare on Kano. "If they exile me now, Coral Spit remains blind to the threat. And you…" He paused, swallowing. "If you truly feel Stormrune's essence, you may be its only hope to warn others."

Kano's heart hammered, the very thought almost too great to bear. Him—scrawny, tarnished Kano—being some kind of link to a mighty House's lost Name? It felt impossible, yet the visions wouldn't let him deny it.

A muffled rumble of thunder rolled in the distance, as though the storm refused to stray too far. Marro looked out at the darkening sky and exhaled sharply. "We can't hide him forever," he muttered.

Reina's lips thinned. She laid a hand on Brannis's shoulder. "Rest. We'll figure something out… tonight."

Kano said nothing more, though his mind churned with possibilities. If the council insisted on removing Brannis tomorrow, that gave them only one night to act. Perhaps—just perhaps—there was a way to help him slip out of Coral Spit undetected, or to gather enough testimony for the council to see reason. But given how deeply they feared war, convincing them to shelter a Stormrune soldier might be impossible.

As the minutes ticked on, Brannis's eyelids grew heavy again. Reina guided him to lie back, and his breathing gradually leveled into shallow sleep. Marro turned for the door, beckoning for Kano to follow. In the threshold, Kano cast one last look at Brannis's battered form, his thoughts swirling with an unshakable resolve.

If Stormrune fell, if dragons were enslaved… if all these nightmares are real… Then letting Brannis be taken away wasn't just cruel—it might be catastrophic for Coral Spit as well. Even if he was just a tarnished runt, Kano felt a spark that he couldn't ignore, a thread binding him to the fate of Stormrune.

He set his jaw. Tariq Stormrune—the name pulsed inside him like a living heartbeat. The council's time limit loomed like a noose, but perhaps a single night would be enough for Kano to unearth the truth and make a choice that might shape far more than his broken family name.