The bell tower rang once, sending its deep echo rolling across the valley. The sound stretched over the hills, made the trees shudder, and slowly faded away.

  Then the bell tolled again, and again, each strike more urgent than the last, until it rang without pause.

  Miravel ran through the forest. His feet pounded the damp ground, his hands pushed branches aside, and his breath shattered in his chest.

  When he burst out of the forest, the city stretched before him like a nightmare made real. In the sky circled a colossal mass: an immense black dragon. Its silhouette tore through the clouds, and its blazing red eyes burned fiercely. Each beat of its wings stirred whirlwinds of ash and dust.

  The dragon opened its jaws and unleashed a torrent of fire. The inferno devoured the houses, swallowed the streets, and brought buildings crashing down. The screams were drowned beneath its roar, and soon nothing remained but smoking ruins.

  Miravel rushed beneath the main gate as flames began to consume it. Above his head, the blackened wood cracked, and the heavy doors glowed a searing red.

  Around him, the crowd surged. Men, women, and children rushed toward the gate, screaming and shoving. Miravel felt shoulders slam into him, elbows drive into his ribs, hands violently pushing him aside. He stumbled, nearly fell, then was swept along by the tide of bodies.

  He broke free and staggered away in search of another way out, where entire sections of the wall had collapsed. Between the fallen blocks, a narrow passage opened, ringed with fire. Miravel slipped through; burning tongues of flame licked at his cloak and skin, tearing a cry of pain from him before he burst out on the other side.

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  The streets he knew by heart were now nothing but corridors of fire and smoke. Buildings collapsed, sending showers of sparks and burning stones into the air. Flaming beams crashed onto the cobblestones, walls cracked before giving way, and each collapse made the ground tremble beneath his feet.

  When he reached his house, his heart tightened. It was nothing more than a gaping shell. The roof had collapsed, leaving blackened beams hanging, igniting one by one. Entire sections of the walls had fallen, reduced to charred blocks still glowing red.

  Above the ruined city, the black dragon still flew. It traced wide circles across the sky. With each pass, it spewed torrents of fire that crashed down upon the districts still standing, triggering fresh collapses. Its wings beat the air violently before it plunged to the ground, shattering the cobblestones.

  Miravel screamed and drew his sword. He charged forward, racing through several blocks engulfed in flames, leaping over debris, brushing past burning walls, ignoring the pain tearing through his body.

  At the center of the square, the dragon advanced. Each step drove its claws into the cobblestones, plowing through the stone. Behind it, its tail swept across the facades.

  When he reached it, Miravel hurled himself at the creature and thrust his sword into one of its legs. The blade struck the scale but failed to pierce it. Miravel clenched his teeth, gathered what little strength he had left, and pushed harder.

  The dragon shook its leg. Miravel was ripped from the ground and hurled through the air before crashing into a wall. The impact knocked the breath from him, and the stone gave way in a thunder of debris.

  Blood spilled from his mouth and ran down his chin. His chest rose and fell; each breath scorched his lungs. Around him, the world swayed. The flames split in two, the ruins seemed to ripple, and his vision blurred.

  Each step the dragon took made the earth tremble, and Miravel felt the shock reverberate through his broken bones. Through his blurred vision, he made out the creature’s silhouette drawing closer, crushing debris beneath its claws.

  The dragon lowered its head toward him. Its jaws opened, revealing rows of massive fangs. A searing breath engulfed Miravel; the shadow of its teeth fell over him.

  Then the jaws snapped shut.