Chapter 2

The city was a ruin, a wretched thing blackened by fire and soot. Age and dust had given away to time, and it had done little to heal this once thriving land. The deeper he went, the darker the shadows the city cast upon him. And yet, there was magic in the air. So thick, like oil and fire that suffocated him to tears, and clogged his veins.

Jon's unfettered gait and steeled will pushed him forward, despite the hunger setting in and the thirst for water. Only iron will kept him strong, even as his lungs turned heavy, and his breath shallow. His eyes glazed red, and though he wished it not, he cried. He was a child, after all. How could any man, when even the hardest of men not break against the tide of fire and death? What was a child against the very hells on earth itself?

He was exhausted beyond belief, and whatever rations he had had been all but depleted. A single strip of beef to gnaw on was all that remained. Jon savored it for the very last time.

Still, he trudged on. The winding roads led him past the once tall monuments, now old remnants of a once past age. And the closer he drew, the closer that he would eventually find the heart of the capital that was once the most feared nation on this world. The tower was a massive construct, built of rock, steel, and brickwork that would have left even the grandest castle of Westeros to shame. Even age and fire had not deterred its magnificence, and though much of its structures had turned to dust and ruin, Jon could feel its mighty strength he would wish to build someday.

He would, in time, eventually enter into the massive tower, though the awe of the grand structure was not lost on him.

Going up was dangerous, and he did not doubt for a second the stairs would crumble beneath his feet and lead him to his death. So, he went down. That was where his answers lay. And down, and down, eventually hitting the mines miles beneath the ruins of the city.

Jon stumbled back in alarm, as the narrow rock walls broke beside him. Jon's skin split as shards of earth pierced flesh, and fell to the floor in pain and anguish.A creature of legends broke through. Its eyes of were of slitted gold as the points of candle fire watched him with hunger.

Firewyrm. Wingless creatures, more lizard than any dragon he had known from the history books. It's breath was as hot and stifling as the underground mines, and it would take but a moment for the creature's flames to turn him to cinders.

Jon looked up and met the predatory creature's gaze with his own. The size of it was small, barely larger than Jon. It must be a baby, barely a few years old. Running would prove little use, and the creature was fast enough to take his legs underneath him. He was small, slight, and weak.

Do not show fear. Never show fear. Never back down. It would only lead to death.

The boy bared his teeth in challenge, and pressed his mind into the creature without hesitation nor doubt. His fingers curled in fury, muscles taut and ready. It would take but a moment to bury the knife into the skull of the creature.

A moment passed. And another moment. Jon held the creature's eyes steady in its vision, unmoving. Sweat glistened from his brow, and the pressure within his heart felt like a hammer upon an anvil.

Perhaps it was the curiosity of a cat, or the instincts of his ancestors, but the firewyrm chuffed in greeting. It recognized its superior and turned back to its tunnel, giving one last whining growl before leaving Jon alone to his thoughts.

"Magnificent..." Jon muttered. A wonderful creature; all scales and the serpentine-like body. Its red and black scales seemed a dark red ruby that reflected off of the light from the flowing lava miles away from the tunnels.

There must be a den nearby. Its mother would be protective, and would see Jon as a threat. Of course, the creature would also see another meal for its babies. A regrettable outcome he wished to avoid. Jon left as quickly as possible.