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    Kael woke to the sound of shattering glass. His eyes snapped open, heart pounding, as the familiar tang of smoke stung his nose. The inn’s wooden ceiling loomed above him, same as always—scarred, splintered, and moments from collapse. He didn’t need to look out the window to know what was happening. The screams outside told him everything: the dragon was here. Again.


    He rolled out of bed, boots hitting the floor with a thud. His sword leaned against the wall, untouched since the last loop. What was the point? He’d died wielding it a dozen times already—burned, crushed, or torn apart. The dragon didn’t care. It razed the town of Eldrif every time, and Kael woke up here, in this creaky bed, at sunrise on the same cursed day.


    The door burst open. Mira, the innkeeper’s daughter, stood there, wide-eyed and breathless. “Kael! It’s back! The dragon—please, you have to help!” Her voice trembled, same as always. He could recite her plea word for word.


    “I know,” he muttered, brushing past her. She grabbed his arm, her grip desperate.


    “You’re a sellsword, aren’t you? Do something!”


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    He shook her off. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t end well.”


    Her face twisted in confusion, but he didn’t explain. How could he? That he’d lived this day—died this day—more times than he could count? That no matter what he did, the dragon won, the town burned, and he woke up here again?


    Outside, chaos reigned. Villagers ran through the muddy streets, clutching children or meager belongings. Smoke billowed from the eastern fields, where the beast had landed. Its roar shook the earth, a guttural bellow that promised death. Kael’s stomach churned. He hated this part.


    He could run. He’d done it before—fled west, hid in the woods. The loop reset anyway. He could fight, charge the dragon with borrowed courage and a dull blade. That ended faster. Or he could wait, let the fire take him. Same result.


    “Kael!” Mira shouted, trailing him. “You can’t just stand there!”


    “Why not?” he snapped. “It’s not like it matters.”


    She stared, horrified, as he turned away. The dragon’s shadow swept overhead, wings blotting out the sun. A jet of flame engulfed the blacksmith’s forge, and the screams grew louder. Kael clenched his fists. He was tired—tired of dying, tired of failing. But maybe this time, he’d try something new.


    He grabbed his sword. Not to fight, not yet. To think. There had to be a way out. A reason he was stuck. As the dragon circled back, he ran—not away, but toward the town square. Toward the old well, where the air always felt… strange. If this loop had a key, he’d find it. Or die trying. Again.