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Dragons

MAXIM

Latin — “the greatest”

Derived from Maximus, Maxim is a name associated with greatness, strength, and power. In dragon lore, however, greatness has never been measured by strength alone. The greatest dragons are those who protect fiercely, love without reservation, and understand that true power lies not in what they can possess, but in what they are willing to defend. For a Lifebound dragon, there could be no more fitting name.

ASHTON

Old English — “ash tree settlement”

Ashton takes its name from the ash tree, an ancient symbol of strength, endurance, protection, and renewal. Across myth and folklore, the ash has been associated with life itself—a tree capable of weathering storms, surviving damage, and continuing to grow. Dragon legend tells us that fire does not always destroy. Sometimes what survives the flames emerges stronger, finally free to become what it was always meant to be.

Chapter one

Power play - When one team has more players on the ice because an opponent is serving a penalty.

Max

The win still burned hot in my chest as we came off the ice, that particular vibration in the blood that never quite faded no matter how many times I’d felt it. One-nothing in the series against Vegas, and the tunnel was loud with it. Sticks clattered against the boards, Keegan whooped about something to Cole, and Theron’s low laugh rolled underneath it all.

Seven games, if it went the distance.

I didn’t plan on giving Vegas that many chances.

I was peeling my gloves off as we rounded the corner past the family and press area, half-listening to Aurelian and Sorin arguing about a hit in the second period, when a voice cut through the noise like a blade through ice.

“Ashton!”

Not Ash.

Nobody called him Ashton.

I didn’t even register that I’d slowed down until I felt Sorin bump into my shoulder from behind, muttering an apology before he saw where I was looking.

Ash had stopped dead in the tunnel.

Just stopped.

Mid-stride, every line of his body had gone rigid in a way I’d never seen on him, not after a hard hit, not after a bad call, not even after we lost the qualifier to Winnipeg two years ago and he put his fist through a whiteboard.

This was different.

This was smaller and somehow worse.

His shoulders had curled inward, just slightly, like he was trying to make himself a smaller target.

There was an older man at the rope line, maybe sixty, wiry build gone soft at the middle, wearing a Dragons jersey five seasons out of date. Nothing about him should have registered as a threat. Security hadn’t even flagged him. He was just another fan who’d gotten lucky with tunnel access, grinning like he’d won something.

But Ash wasn’t looking at him like a fan.

Ash wasn’t looking at him at all.

His eyes had gone somewhere else entirely, somewhere none of us could follow, and his jaw was locked so tightly I could see the muscle jump beneath the stubble.

“Thorne,” I said, keeping my voice level, the same tone I’d use calling a line change. “Let’s go.”

Ash didn’t move.