Stories that
never end.

Ember had tried everything. She had eaten a fire-berry, stood on the tallest peak of Cinderpeak Mountain, and even spun around seventeen times until she was dizzy. But when she opened her mouth and blew with all her might, all that came out were tiny golden sparks — pretty, yes, but absolutely useless for a dragon.

Her brothers had noticed, of course. They always did. She could hear their laughter echoing off the mountain walls as she made her way back to the cave, her tail dragging in the snow. It wasn't fair. Every dragon in Cinderpeak could breathe fire by the time they were her age. Every single one — except her.

That night, when her family was asleep and the mountain was perfectly still, Ember noticed something strange glowing beneath her sleeping mat. She lifted the corner and found a small map — not drawn on paper, but made entirely of light. And written at the top, in letters that seemed to write themselves as she watched, were three words that made her heart thump so hard she had to put her paw on her chest:

"Only you can read this."