The Dragon of the Forgotten Mountain

Elena had been an apprentice to the village herbalist for three years when she first heard the whispers. They came on nights when the wind howled through the mountain passes, carrying with it a sound that was almost like breathing - deep, slow, and impossibly ancient. 'Don't go to the Forgotten Mountain,' her master warned, his weathered hands trembling as he ground medicinal herbs. 'The old ones say a dragon sleeps there, and its dreams keep the darkness at bay.' But when a shadow began creeping across the land, withering crops and turning the sky gray, Elena knew she had no choice. The village elders spoke in hushed tones of an ancient prophecy - that only the dragon's fire could drive back the encroaching void. The climb took two days. Elena's fingers were raw and bleeding by the time she reached the summit, where a cave mouth yawned like a wound in the mountainside. Inside, the air shimmered with residual magic, and there, coiled in impossible spirals of sapphire and gold, lay the dragon. Its scales caught the dim light like a thousand tiny mirrors, each one etched with runes she couldn't read. Its breathing created small whirlwinds of ancient dust. As Elena approached, one massive eye opened - an iris of molten amber that held the weight of millennia. 'Why have you come, little one?' The voice resonated not in her ears but in her very bones. Elena explained the darkness, the dying land, the desperate village. The dragon listened, and when she finished, it sighed - a sound like wind through canyons. 'I sleep to keep the darkness contained,' it said. 'If I wake fully, the seal will break. But if I remain asleep, the darkness will consume everything. The choice was never mine to make.' Elena's heart pounded. The prophecy had been incomplete - there was no easy salvation. She looked at the dragon, then at her hands, still clutching the ancient texts she'd brought. 'Then we make a new choice,' she said. 'Wake, but not fully. Lend me your fire, and I'll be the seal. I'll hold the darkness while you remain here, ready to wake fully only if I fail.' The dragon's eye glowed brighter. 'You would bind yourself to this mountain? Become part of the balance?' 'If it saves my people,' Elena said simply. A moment of eternity passed. Then the dragon extended one talon, and a small flame - no larger than a candle - danced at its tip. 'Take this, guardian. And may your resolve never waver.' Elena cupped the dragon fire in her hands. It didn't burn but merged with her, filling her with ancient strength. She understood now - the dragon had been waiting for someone brave enough not to demand its full power, but to share its burden. When Elena returned to her village, her eyes held a hint of amber, and her shadow seemed to flicker with scales. The darkness recoiled at her approach, and the crops began to grow again. And on quiet nights, when the wind whispers through the mountain, two voices answer - one ancient, one new, bound together in purpose.