Celm opened his eyes. Darkness filled his vision. He blinked, his eyelids heavy, and a faint light from above illuminated his immediate surroundings. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. The ground beneath him was damp, cold, and uneven. His palms pressed into something wet. He brought his hand up to his face and squinted. The dark red smear across his palm was unmistakably blood.

  His stomach churned. “What… what is this place?” he whispered, his voice raw and cracked. He swallowed, his throat dry, but the metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue.

  He forced himself upright. His muscles ached, and his movements were slow, deliberate. The cold air brushed against his skin, making him shiver. He looked around. Thick, gnarled trees towered over him, their bark rough and peeling. The leaves overhead were dense, blocking most of the faint light. The shadows on the forest floor shifted slightly as the leaves rustled in the wind.

  The air smelled of damp soil, mixed with the sharp, metallic scent of blood. Celm frowned, rubbing his arms for warmth. Every sound around him seemed amplified: the faint crack of twigs, the rustle of leaves, the distant dripping of water. Each noise made him tense, his eyes darting toward its source.

  His breathing steadied as he scanned the area. He ran a hand over his chest, his fingers brushing against the rough fabric of a torn shirt. The chill of his damp clothes seeped into his skin. His boots pressed into the soft earth as he shifted his weight, testing his footing.

  “Why does this place feel so… wrong?” he muttered, glancing down at his bloodstained hands. “What happened to me?”

  He tried to recall the events leading up to this moment, but his mind was a blank slate. Fragments of memories flashed before him—shouts, the sharp pain of claws tearing through flesh, a burst of heat. He shook his head, his fingers brushing through his matted hair. The memories felt disconnected, as if they belonged to someone else.

  Celm clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “No use standing around,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “I need to figure out where I am… and how to get out of here.”

  He stood slowly, his boots sinking slightly into the wet, sticky soil. The ground pulled at him with each step, forcing him to move cautiously. He leaned against a tree for support, the rough bark scraping his palm. As he steadied himself, his gaze shifted upward. The sky was obscured by swirling gray clouds. They hung low, almost touching the tops of the tallest trees. Faint light filtered through the cloud cover, casting everything in a dull, lifeless glow.

  The faint sound of movement in the distance made him freeze. He strained his ears, his body tensing. It was faint but deliberate—leaves crunching, branches shifting, something moving. His breath caught in his throat as he turned slowly toward the sound.

  His eyes caught movement in the sky. At first, it seemed like a cloud drifting against the wind. But as it drew closer, its shape became more defined. The outline of a massive creature took form. Celm’s heart pounded as he realized what it was.

  A dragon. Its enormous wings spread wide, blotting out the faint light. Its dark, scaly body seemed to ripple as it moved through the air. The dragon's eyes glowed faintly, two bright points in the gloom. They locked onto him, unblinking, with an intensity that made his stomach turn.

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  Celm stumbled back, his boots scraping against the soil. He clutched the tree trunk behind him, his fingers digging into the bark. “This can’t be real,” he said, his voice barely audible. “A dragon? Here?”

  The dragon moved silently, its body gliding through the air with an unnatural grace. The ground beneath Celm trembled slightly with each motion. He felt the vibration in his legs, a faint but constant reminder of the creature’s size and power.

  His mind raced. “Think, Celm,” he muttered. “What do you remember? Why are you here? Did this… thing do this to you?” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists to steady himself.

  The dragon hovered above the forest, its gaze fixed on him. Its presence filled the air, making every breath harder to take. Celm took a step back, then another, his boots slipping slightly in the wet soil. His heart hammered against his ribs.

  “I can’t fight that,” he whispered, glancing around the forest. “If it killed me before, it’ll kill me again. I need to move.”

  He turned, scanning the forest for any sign of a path. The trees were dense, their roots twisted and gnarled. Thick underbrush blocked most routes, but there was a faint opening to his left. He moved toward it, his steps slow and deliberate, his eyes darting back to the dragon every few seconds.

  As he walked, he patted himself down, searching for anything that might help. His fingers brushed against something cold in his pocket. He paused, pulling it out. It was a pendant, small and intricately carved. Symbols adorned its surface, faintly glowing in the dim light.

  “What is this?” he muttered, holding it up. The pendant felt warm in his hand, a stark contrast to the cold air around him. He clenched it tightly, the warmth spreading through his palm and up his arm. For a moment, the oppressive weight in his chest lessened.

  He didn’t have time to question it further. A loud rustling in the trees made him spin around. The dragon was descending, its massive body weaving through the forest canopy. Celm’s grip on the pendant tightened. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to move.

  “Focus,” he whispered. “One step at a time.”

  The dragon’s shadow loomed over him, its glowing eyes piercing through the gloom. Celm’s mind screamed at him to run faster, but his body felt sluggish, every step a struggle against the sticky ground.

  “This isn’t fair,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I don’t even know what’s happening, and I’m already running for my life.”

  Branches whipped against his face as he pushed through the underbrush. The pendant’s warmth pulsed in his hand, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat. He glanced down at it briefly. “What are you? Why do you feel… alive?”

  The dragon’s roar shook the forest. Leaves and debris rained down, and Celm stumbled, barely catching himself on a tree trunk. His breathing was ragged, his body screaming in protest, but he kept moving.

  “Think, Celm,” he said, his voice rising in frustration. “You’re not going to outrun that thing. What can you do? What do you have?”

  The pendant glowed brighter, casting faint light across the forest floor. Celm stopped, his eyes narrowing as he studied it. “Is this… a weapon? Some kind of protection?”

  The dragon’s roar grew louder, its massive form crashing through the trees. Celm’s pulse quickened, and he clutched the pendant to his chest. “If you’re going to help, now’s the time.”

  He turned to face the dragon, his body trembling but his grip on the pendant firm. The creature’s glowing eyes bore into him, and the ground shook with its approach. Celm’s jaw tightened, and he took a shaky breath.

  “I don’t know what you are,” he said to the pendant, “but if you’ve got any tricks up your sleeve, I’m counting on you.”

  The dragon lunged, its massive jaws snapping inches away from him. Celm raised the pendant instinctively, its light flaring brighter than before. For a moment, everything else faded, the dragon, the forest, the cold air. All that remained was

  the warmth of the pendant and the faint glow surrounding him.