THE CHOSEN BRIDE

The village of Ashvale sat at the edge of the world—or so Elara had always believed.

Surrounded by endless forests and towering mountains, it was a quiet place where nothing exciting ever happened. The villagers spent their days farming, fishing, and praying that the Dragon King would never remember they existed.

Every child in Ashvale grew up hearing stories about him.

Some said he was a monster with scales black as midnight and eyes that burned like molten gold.

Others claimed he was immortal, cursed to rule alone for eternity.

No one knew the truth.

No one had seen him in centuries.

At least, that was what everyone believed.

Elara tightened the scarf around her neck as she carried a basket of herbs toward the marketplace. The cold morning air nipped at her cheeks.

"Elara!"

She turned to find her best friend, Mira, running toward her.

"You won't believe what's happening in the square," Mira said breathlessly.

Elara frowned. "What now?"

"The royal messengers are here."

Her steps halted.

Royal messengers?

That was impossible.

The Dragon Kingdom had ignored Ashvale for decades.

"You're joking."

"I'm not!" Mira grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. "Come on!"

Curiosity got the better of her.

By the time they reached the village square, nearly every resident had gathered there.

Men, women, and children stood silently around a raised platform.

Three riders dressed in silver armor sat atop enormous horses.

At the center stood an elderly man holding a scroll sealed with golden wax.

The village chief looked pale.

Very pale.

Elara suddenly felt uneasy.

The old messenger cleared his throat.

"By decree of His Majesty, the Dragon King, ruler of the Eastern Realms and protector of the Sacred Flame..."

The crowd fell silent.

Even the wind seemed to stop.

The messenger continued.

"The time has come for the Choosing."

A gasp swept through the villagers.

Elara's stomach tightened.

The Choosing.

It was an ancient tradition.

One human bride selected every hundred years.

A woman taken to the Dragon King's palace.

A woman who never returned.

The stories rushed through Elara's mind.

Most people believed the tradition had ended centuries ago.

Apparently, they had been wrong.

"The chosen bride will leave within three days," the messenger announced.

Fear spread across the crowd.

Mothers clutched their daughters.

Fathers lowered their heads.

The messenger unrolled the scroll completely.

"The name selected by the Sacred Flame is..."

Elara held her breath.

Surely it would be someone else.

Someone important.

Someone noble.

Not a poor herb gatherer from the edge of the kingdom.

"...Elara Winters."

The world stopped.

For a moment, she thought she had imagined it.

The crowd turned toward her.

Hundreds of eyes stared.

Mira's grip on her arm tightened painfully.

"No," Elara whispered.

The messenger looked directly at her.

"There stands the chosen bride."

A murmur spread through the villagers.

Some looked sympathetic.

Others looked relieved.

Because it wasn't their daughter.

Their sister.

Their friend.

It was her.

"No," Elara repeated, shaking her head. "There has to be a mistake."

"There are no mistakes in the Choosing," the messenger replied calmly.

The chief stepped forward.

"Child..."

His voice trembled.

And that frightened her more than anything.

Even he believed it.

Even he couldn't stop it.

Panic surged through her chest.

"I'm not going," she said.

The square erupted into whispers.

The messenger's expression remained unchanged.

"The Sacred Flame has spoken."

"I don't care."

A shocked silence followed.

No one spoke to royal messengers that way.

But Elara barely noticed.

Her heart pounded wildly.

She couldn't leave.

This village was her home.

Her parents were buried here.

Everything she had ever known was here.

The messenger folded the scroll.

"You will depart in three days."

Then he turned and walked away.

As if her life had already been decided.

As if her opinion meant nothing.

Tears burned behind her eyes.

Mira wrapped her arms around her.

"It's going to be okay."

But neither of them believed it.

That night, sleep refused to come.

Elara sat beside her small window, staring at the moonlit forest.

Three days.

In three days she would be taken across the kingdom to marry a man she had never met.

A king whispered about in nightmares.

A creature many believed wasn't even human.

She clenched her fists.

There had to be another way.

She could run.

Hide in the mountains.

Disappear into the forest.

Surely they wouldn't find her.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the window.

Elara looked outside.

And froze.

At the edge of the forest stood a massive shadow.

Watching her.

Its shape was too large to be human.

Too still to be an animal.

Golden eyes glowed in the darkness.

Ancient.

Powerful.

Terrifying.

Her breath caught.

The figure stared at her for only a second.

Then enormous black wings unfolded against the moonlit sky.

The creature launched into the air.

A heartbeat later, it vanished into the clouds.

Elara stumbled backward.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

There was only one being in the world large enough to possess wings like those.

The Dragon King.

And somehow...

He had been watching her.

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