Page 1 of Song of the Shadow Prince (The Dragon’s Ballad #1)
PROLOGUE
DAMIEN
I n the heart of Obsidian Reach Island, which lay within the dormant belly of a volcano, my twentieth birthday heralded the dawn of my transformation. This stark, foreboding sanctuary, crafted from solidified lava, had been both cradle and cage since my birth. It was here, amidst the shimmering rock walls and the faint, residual warmth seeping from the earth, that I awaited the rite that would awaken my dragon heritage. The air was tinged with the sulfur scent and a smoky undertone that seemed to emanate from the stone itself, a constant reminder of the fire that once roared through these cavernous halls.
Uncle Bai, who had raised me in this secluded exile, paced the length of our living room. The space was marked by sparse furnishings and vast, mural-like tapestries depicting ancient dragon lore. Each step he took was measured, heavy with the weight of anticipation.
“Control is paramount, Damien,” Uncle Bai reiterated, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. “The first shift can be... overwhelming. But you are ready.”
I nodded, my heart pounding with a cocktail of excitement and nerves. Tonight, I would embrace my birthright and feel the rush of scales and wings for the first time. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of crimson and gold, an ominous chill settled over me, unbidden and sharp.
My pulse quickened, not with the thrill of impending transformation, but with dread.
Two figures emerged from the shadows at the mouth of the volcano, their presence as foreboding as the gathering dusk. The first was my father, the emperor, a man whose visage I knew only from the cold, distant portraits in books. His eyes, sharp and assessing, swept over the interior of our volcanic home with thinly veiled contempt. Beside him, the imperial seer, a wizened figure with eyes like depthless pools, lingered a step behind, his gaze unsettlingly fixed on me. I only knew him because my uncle told me my father never went anywhere without him. This was the first time I had met either of them.
“Damien.” My father’s voice boomed, resonating off the stone. “Twenty years have passed. It is time we witnessed what kind of creature my blood has wrought.”
Uncle Bai stiffened beside me, his face a mask of guarded caution. “Brother, we were prepared to begin the shift. He is ready,” he asserted, though I heard the slight tremor in his voice.
As I stepped forward and met my father’s gaze, a sharp, unexpected pain seared the skin of my forearm. I gasped and looked down to see a mark forming on my skin—a dragon and a phoenix, intertwined in an intricate dance of destiny and flames. The pain was fleeting, but the mark that remained was vibrant, pulsating with a strange, ancient power.
The seer stepped forward and gripped my arm, his voice trembling with a mixture of reverence and fear. “The Twin Flame mark...” he whispered, his eyes wide. “A legend reborn. It signifies the one true king, but only when his mate, who bears the matching mark, is found.”
Silence fell, heavy and tense. My father’s face darkened, his lips curling into a sneer of disgust. “A king?” he spat, his tone dripping with venom. “You, who killed your own mother in childbirth?”
I recoiled, the accusation stinging more than the mark upon my skin. Before I could respond, the emperor turned to the seer with a cold command. “Remove his dragon bones. If he cannot shift, he cannot claim any throne.”
“What? No!” I stepped back, away from the seer.
Uncle Bai intervened, his voice desperate. “Brother, please reconsider. Your son—”
“He is no son of mine!” my father interrupted with a roar that shook the walls. “He is but a curse!”
The imperial seer, his face etched with lines of reluctant duty, stepped forward. His hands hovered over me, trembling with the weight of the ancient spell he was about to invoke. He whispered the incantations, his voice a low murmur that seemed to draw the very shadows closer, eager to witness the undoing of a dragon’s heir.
As the first words of the spell escaped his lips, a tingling sensation began at the tips of my fingers, crawling up my arms like a legion of icy needles pricking my skin. It gathered momentum, a crescendo of pain that coiled around my bones. I gritted my teeth and braced against the coming storm.
The seer’s voice grew louder, more insistent, and the pain intensified exponentially. It felt as if invisible vices were clamping down on my limbs, squeezing with relentless force. My dragon bones, the very essence of my being, began to resonate a deep, mournful hum that filled the chamber, its sorrowful dirge echoing off the stone walls.
I felt every fiber of my dragon heritage being unraveled, stripped away layer by layer. The pain was not merely physical but psychic, a rending of soul as much as body. The bones that should have borne the mighty weight of my dragon form now felt brittle, fragile under the seer’s unyielding spell. A sharp, almost unbearable agony shot through my forearm where the Twin Flame mark pulsed under my skin, as if it too was protesting the theft of my destiny.
The room spun, a whirl of dim light and shadow, as the seer continued his relentless chant. I fell to my knees and wrapped my arms around my torso in a vain attempt to hold myself together. The pain escalated, a swelling of torment that bordered on the unbearable. I heard the crackling of my bones, a sound so harrowing that it seemed to split the air around me.
Tears streamed down my face, not from weakness but a raw, primal response to the excruciating process. My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a battle against the waves of pain that threatened to drown me in their depths.
Finally, with a last, resonant word that seemed to shake the foundation of the volcano itself, the seer ended the spell. He stepped back, his face pale, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and pity. I collapsed forward, my body hitting the cold, hard stone with a thud that echoed hollowly in the silent chamber.
The absence of pain was as shocking as its presence had been. I lay there, gasping for breath, my body a map of aches and hollows where once there had been the promise of power. The loss was total, absolute. I felt emptied, less than whole, a vessel gutted of its purpose.
Uncle Bai rushed to my side and gripped my shoulders as he gently lifted me into a standing position. His eyes searched mine, filled with a torrent of unspoken emotions—anger, sorrow, determination.
The hateful emperor’s eyes fell on me once more, filled with cold resolution that was the polar opposite of the molten lava surrounding us. “ And his heart scale,” he ordered. “Leave him vulnerable.”
The seer’s hands were frigid as they pressed against my chest, extracting the heart scale, the source of a dragon’s life force and protection. I could do nothing but clench my fists and grit my teeth against the violation. The room spun as my knees buckled under the weight of my losses.
Seeing my anguish, Uncle Bai made one last plea. “If he finds his mate, the one with the matching mark, will you free him from this exile?”
My father paused, his eyes assessing, calculating. “I won’t return the bones or scale, but he will be allowed out once a month for twenty-four hours,” he finally decreed. “If he finds her, I will consider his fate.”
With his decree ringing in the air, they left, leaving me broken both physically and spiritually on the cold, hard floor of my home. Uncle Bai rushed to my side and helped me sit up.
“We will find a way, Damien,” he murmured, determination steeling his voice as he helped me stand. “We will find your mate.”
In the dim light of our volcanic home, with my body and spirit laid bare, a new resolve formed within me. Despite the emperor's efforts to curb my destiny, I would rise. I would find my mate. I would reclaim my stolen heritage.
And one day, I would be free from this prison.