Everything was still.

  All creatures on the planet were asleep, but this sleep was not natural.

  It was not caused by exhaustion, nor was it rest after fear.

  It was a forced sleep.

  Their bodies were motionless, yet their minds were not calm.

  Each being was trapped inside a different dream…

  a dream born from a damaged memory.

  Memories that felt incomplete, as if something had been taken from them.

  They saw unclear images.

  Unknown places.

  They heard voices without faces.

  Some saw people but could not remember their names.

  Some heard calls they could not understand.

  Others felt fear without knowing its source.

  There was no shared dream.

  But there was one shared feeling:

  this sleep was not voluntary.

  No one moved.

  No one opened their eyes.

  It was as if the planet itself had taken control of the consciousness of every living being and stopped it at a single moment.

  The air was still.

  The sky did not change.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Time itself seemed frozen.

  As if the planet had decided to pause everything…

  not as punishment,

  not as mercy,

  but as preparation.

  Waiting for something that had not happened yet,

  but that everyone would eventually be forced to face.

  Far from that silence, deep in space, there was a planet that had never known stillness.

  Ignara.

  A vast world surrounded by glowing clouds, with towering mountains filled with heat, and rivers of glowing energy flowing across its surface.

  The planet itself was alive.

  And from this land, dragons were born.

  The strength of dragons did not lie only in their bodies, but in the fire they carried.

  And that fire was not the same for all of them.

  Some dragons possessed red fire…

  a violent and direct flame used for attack and raw physical power.

  Others carried blue fire..

  a cold flame that could burn and freeze at the same time, used for control, defense, and stability.

  A rare few were born with black fire-

  dangerous and difficult to see, a flame that consumed energy itself and left nothing behind.

  But above all of them, there was a flame that existed only on Ignara.

  The Core Flame.

  A golden-orange flame, calm in appearance but heavy in presence.

  It was not created for destruction or battle.

  This flame did not come from dragons alone, but from the heart of the planet itself.

  Dragons who carried it could sense the planet’s condition-

  its changes, its weakness, and its anger.

  They alone could approach the planet’s core without being destroyed.

  The Core Flame did more than grant power.

  It granted endurance.

  The ability to survive.

  And the responsibility to protect Ignara when it was in danger.

  For this reason, the relationship between dragons and their world was never about control.

  It was about balance.

  Ignara gave them power,

  and they ensured its survival.

  An ancient pact…

  one that had never been broken.

  Until now.