Chosen By The Dragon Kings

CHAPTER 1

The window is a small, cracked square in the kitchen wall, its glass fogged from winter’s chilly air.

I press my hand against it, staring out at the bleak streets of the city.

Snow falls in heavy sheets, blanketing the world in white and gray.

I used to love the snow when I was a child—it seemed so magical back then, like a promise that the world could be pure.

Now, it’s just another reminder of how cold and unforgiving life has become.

Once, this city was alive. Humans filled its streets, and buildings soared into the sky, glimmering in the sunlight.

Back then, the Fae didn’t have to hide, and magic was abundant, weaving through every corner of our world.

That was before the Great War—before the Dragons took everything.

Now, the city is suffocating under its own decay, crawling with too many desperate creatures trying to survive and too few resources to sustain them.

The snow drips from the broken edge of the roof as I let my fingers trace the frosted windowpane.

My thoughts drift back to the stories my grandmother used to tell me, back when I believed in magic and heroes and saviors.

She always spoke of the Chosen One, the Oracle’s prophecy of a Fae born to save us all and return magic to the land.

Once, I clung to those tales like a lifeline, believing salvation was just around the corner. Now, I know better.

Salvation is a dream we whispered to ourselves to keep going.

The truth is, we lost everything the day the Oracle died, and with her, our magic.

What’s left of the Fae now? Just a few of us, hiding in the shadows, praying not to be found.

I look down at my reflection in the glass, catching the faintest flash of my amethyst eyes.

I quickly pull my hood over my head and turn away, unwilling to see them.

Eyes like these can’t be hidden forever.

A soft cough pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see my grandmother standing behind me, frail and hunched. Still somehow radiating the quiet strength she’s always carried. Her knowing gaze meets mine, and I know she’s guessed what I’ve been thinking. She always does.

“Come, Elora,” she says, motioning toward the broken table in the center of the cramped kitchen. “Sit with me.”

I grab a towel to dry my hands and follow her. This house is no better than a ruin—walls peeling, the roof sloping inward from water damage, appliances broken except for the fridge, which barely works. The cold seeps in through every crack and broken seam.

The chair wobbles under my weight as I sit, the wood groaning in protest. My grandmother lowers herself into the chair across from me, her fragile frame sinking into the seat like she might dissolve into it.

Her once-glowing purple eyes, so much like mine, have faded to a dull, lifeless hue.

I try not to let my worry show, though it’s impossible to ignore how much she’s withered.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, her voice rasping from the cough that hasn’t left her in weeks. “What are you thinking, my child?”

I force a small smile. “Nothing, Grandma,” I lie, though I know she sees through it. “I’m going to get you something for that cough.”

Her expression hardens. “Elora, we can’t afford medicine.”

She’s right, of course. We never can. That doesn’t stop me though. I push back my chair and stand, determined.

“I’ll find a way,” I say, pulling on my coat.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she grabs my hand, sliding a gold ring into my palm. “Take this,” she says.

“Grandma, no—”

“It was your mother’s,” she says firmly, coughing into her hand. “Use it if you must, don’t argue with me.”

I clench the ring in my fist, the intricate vines carved into the band pressing into my skin. This was my mother’s wedding band, which has been passed down for generations—a piece of our bloodline, our history. My throat tightens as I drop it into my pocket.

“I’ll be back soon,” I tell her, tugging my hood over my head. “Try to stay warm.”

The snow bites my feet the moment I step outside, sinking through my thin, hole-ridden shoes. Winters here are cruel and unforgiving, and this one feels especially bitter. The streets are sludgy with mud and ice, crowded with people trudging through the cold.

The city has always been dangerous, now it feels more like a battlefield.

Humans are still the majority, scavenging what they can to survive.

Vampires and Lycans prowl in the shadows, and the Dragon Kings watch over everything, untouchable in their castle above the city.

It’s hard to believe the Fae once ruled alongside the Elves and Angels.

Now, we’re extinct in the eyes of most, hunted to the brink of death.

I slip into an alley and pop in my contact lenses, masking the purple of my eyes with a muddy brown.

The lenses blur my vision and irritate my enhanced sight, but it’s safer this way.

Anyone who gets a good look at my eyes would know I’m Fae, and that’s a death sentence in this city.

The Dragons made sure of that after the uprising, killing every Fae they found.

We wanted to leave the city, the Dragon Kings refuse to let anyone go.

Guards are stationed at every checkpoint, and in our opinion, it isn’t worth the risk.

The Dragon Kings had killed off the last two elders when they tried to escape and Grandma is the last one and closest to the castle, forcing us to live in rundown abandoned houses.

We’ve been lucky enough to go unnoticed for as long as we have.

They don’t know of my existence yet, and I pray it stays that way.

Because being a Fae in the city is hard.

I struggle to find work because I can’t remain in one place for too long; anyone looking too hard would be able to tell I am Fae.

My grandmother, who is unable to use magic to disguise herself, cannot work, either.

So, my options are scavenging and bartering or being forced to steal.

I hate being forced to steal from others, and I also hate stealing from humans.

Like the Fae, they are helpless and dying out.

Humans don’t have much to begin with, not in this city that is overrun with people experiencing homelessness.

Everyone is forced to live in poverty unless you are a Dragon, Lycan, or Vampire.

I quicken my pace, keeping my head down.

The streets are littered with rubbish, and bodies are sometimes left where they fall, frozen in the snow.

Famine and cold are the city’s greatest killers, though the Vampires aren’t far behind.

They treat humans like blood banks, draining them dry when the mood strikes.

Lycans, on the rare occasion they’re allowed in the city, hunt for sport.

Growing up, I quickly learned the difference between the various species. Since then, Elves, Angels, and Witches have become extinct. I had never met a single one of them.

Dragons aren’t far off from extinction either; no female Dragons have been born since the war, making the Dragon Kings angry and fueling their hate for Fae.

They, too, are a dying species. Although immortal, most have spent their lives alone or choose to take another male as a mate.

I have seen the Dragon Kings from afar, I’ve never got close enough to actually meet one, and I pray I never will.

There are three Kings and rumors had circulated through the city that when they couldn’t find their mates, they chose to mate each other, hoping to keep themselves strong enough to rule over the kingdom.

Sometimes, people are forced into the castle, never to be seen again.

That is particularly true for any woman who passes through those gates.

Dragons are insatiable and impulsive, usually taking a woman then killing her; it didn’t matter what species or status they held; no one survived them once they stepped through those iron gates.

I keep my eyes downcast as I walk through the streets.

Most people will glance at me and assume I’m human.

Rounding the corner onto the next street, I glance up to see the dirty wooden sign that indicates I have arrived at the pharmacist. The man who works here is a nice human, and since money is scarce here, he allows me to barter for what I need, gold being one the hardest-to-come-by currencies yet also the most valuable.

I drop my gaze and start walking, trying to blend into the crowds of people.

Making my way into the derelict store, I remove my hood, letting my black hair cascade down my back like a veil.

The store owner, Victor looks up and smiles when he sees me. He always liked my grandmother. They used to be friends before everything went to shit.

“Elora dear, how is your grandmother?” he asks.

Victor appears concerned at seeing me this late in the day; he knows I have to be quick to get home, night is not safe on these streets.

That’s when night creatures like the vamps come out to hunt down their victims. It is never safe to be on the street after dark, easy picking for the more malevolent creatures.

“Not good, Victor. The cough hasn’t gone away. She’s getting worse.” I retrieve my grandmother’s wedding band from my pocket.

I drop it on the counter, shooting him a knowing look. He snatches it, places it in his pocket, and nods, ducking out the back and bringing back a bottle of liquid. Victor knows what my grandmother is, yet he never mentions it, knowing it is a death sentence if anyone heard him speak of the Fae.

“Give her this three times a day; I haven’t got anything stronger. Herbs are becoming harder to find, especially in the winter.” I nod, grabbing the bottle and placing my hood back over my head.

“Elora, stay safe out there,” he warns, following behind me, getting ready to barricade himself in before those who go bump in the night come out to play.