Chapter 5
Chapter Five
King Ziven
Page Five. When I die, will she remember me?
I t feels like I’m falling forever, like the darkness and shadows never stop chasing me. It’s been like this since I was a child, living in a world where the darkness became my power and I let it take me whole. I let myself pit into the darkest places of my mind when I lost my family, most of my people, and then, even when nothing was left, I still never gave up. I don’t know what waits for me down here, in this pit, in this place even my ancestors claimed no one should ever head into, but if there is a chance I can save Story, if there is a way to make this world better so she can live safely within it, then I will face it. No darkness can touch me when she is there, shining in my mind like fire.
I hear them moving around me, feel them flying in the air, sense them endlessly flying everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. It smells like fire, like dampness and flames mixed together, the further I fall until I wonder if I’ll touch the very centre of the world. Can I ever come back from that? Will I ever find my way back to Storm? The dragon’s roar sounds like a dare, like a threat whispered on the wind that I will not find my way back to her. I feel when they start slamming into me, catching me with their sharp talons.
Something suddenly changes, and I shout for the deities to stop this. The dragons claw into me, like they are searching my blood for my soul. They start dragging their claws down my arms, down my stomach, down my legs, until they’re ripping my skin. I scream in pain as they tear at me, their torment relentless and as endless as time. There’s nothing I can do but let them continue to test me over and over again as I fall through their darkness, through their shadows, through time itself—or so it feels.
This place doesn’t feel right. Through all the pain and torment, it feels wrong, out of balance. I suspect they want me to die. What they don’t know is that I’m the most stubborn bastard who’s ever decided to jump into this pit and face whatever dwells down here. They don’t know about the redheaded woman who needs me to come back.
It feels like hours, days, or months—who knows how long before it stops? Before I’m falling slower and slower. I slam straight into black dust that feels almost like sand under my fingertips. My body aches, covered in millions of scratches all over my arms, my face, everywhere. I lift my head, seeing swirling grey shadows instead of clouds circling around me, encircling me. Slowly, the shadows begin to take form and shape: two wings, massive enough to make a complete circle around the vast gap in which I now stand. The body and claws of this incredible dragon eventually come into view, along with scales like ice and shadow magic dripping off it into the earth below.
Its claws are enormous, larger than anything I’ve ever seen, and it’s stunning. Its long, arched neck is covered in grey spikes that resemble diamonds, reflecting the faint light of the shadows around it. But this dragon is solid, unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’d say it’s even bigger than Story’s dragon, Maeve—and that’s saying something because she is the biggest dragon alive. Not anymore.
When it looks at me, its eyes are swirling pits of grey, almost like smoke, and shadows are dancing inside them to an unheard song. Yet they glint like silver as they watch me.
“How dare you!” it roars into my mind. Its voice is old, ancient, different. It takes me a second to adjust, as though I need to form the words in my mind to fully understand them. “How dare you come here with your blood, with who you are, and step on the graves of my kin.” I look down at the black dust, and within it, I see ash and bone. “You are not welcome, and there’s nothing but death down here for you, King of the Moon Dynasty. Have you not had enough of it?”
“I’ve come because our world is drowning.” I make sure to shout. To make sure this creature hears me. “It’s drowning in the blood of the vampyres, from the king who rules it, and they will not be stopped.” It watches me, this male dragon. “And if they rule, nobody wins. Dragons will go extinct. There’ll be nothing left of them…eventually, including you. There’ll be nothing left of the fae, too. Is that what you want? To hide down here like cowards as the world begs on its knees for help?”
It roars at me, grey fire spiralling in a circle, but I know it could have killed me if it wanted to. It’s testing me. I lift my head and make sure I’m looking straight into its eyes as it speaks into my mind again. Calling it a “he” seems like a weak word for what this male dragon is. Too binding. “What is your name?” it asks.
I formally bow. “King Ziven of the Moon Dynasty. I’ve come here to be your rider.”
There’s no point dancing around the subject. I’ve always been blunt and straightforward—it’s usually how I get what I want. I know exactly what I want and need now. It’s being this dragon’s rider. This is the dragon I need. I’ll mourn Brythan to the day that I die, but this dragon, this is going to be my last dragon and the one I win the war with. It is no coincidence I was led here, time and time again. Even the day I kissed Story right outside this pit and knew, right down to my soul, there wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her. So fuck whatever this dragon has planned for me.
The dragon’s laugh echoes around my mind, clawing through it like a physical force. “I have never had a rider, and I will never have a rider.”
“Never is a word you shouldn’t use lightly.” I smirk at it. “Especially when your rider has come down here to face you. When we ride together, I know we can fix it. Fix the vampyre threat and win the war.”
Heat escapes its nostrils like a sigh of contempt. “Do you know your history?” The heat turns to steam, blowing around my legs. “As you come here to ask for the king of all dragons to be yours, to ride me would mean taking that title. The power that comes with a bond like that—no being would survive it.”
“I would,” I firmly state. “My whole life, I’ve been pulled here, destined for this. My power is shadows and darkness, and I’ve never pushed myself to the limit of it before. I know, without a doubt, you’re my dragon.”
He huffs in doubt. “You do not know the history, then.”
“Inform me,” I demand, crossing my arms. “Tell me what you think will change anything.”
Its voice deepens, and I can feel the weight of its truth pressing down on me. “We were not of this world, not originally. We are from the sky, where the stars shine brightly in the darkness, and it is beautiful there. We never felt pain or any feeling at all. Once, we were nothing but waves of flames of all colours, streaking across the heavens. But we crashed here, pulled in, lured by great dark magic. That magic bound the flames into living creatures—it made the first dragons. We felt, we still feel now, and to feel is to know pain and loss. Those first dragons were bound by the magic to take riders, to be ridden endlessly, forever. We were family, and then…we were nothing but tools for the fae to win their wars. So much fire.” An image bursts into my head of cities burning, of forests destroyed and dragons going to war. An image I never wanted to see. “Some of us, however, were too strong. We refused riders, refused to be bound when all they did was make war and take lives with us. And so we became this—shadows of flame, echoing deep below the surface. Never allowed to see the stars or the heavens we came from.”
Its teeth bare down as it stares down at me, and my heart pounds in my chest. “What is it you want? I cannot fix the past, dragon.”
“Nothing that you can give me,” it growls. “And my name is not dragon. It is Nianyan of the first. Riderless until my death.”
“You want freedom?” I challenge Nianyan. “Then make me your rider. Give me a trial, like the other dragons do. Let me prove myself, and when I win that trial, I will become your rider. If I lose, then you get to kill me without a fight.” I take a step forward. “When the war is over, you’re free to roam the world as you please. No more wars to be fought. I promise it. All dragons will be free. No more riders. We will be the last riders,” I declare firmly, my gaze locked on his. “What do you think?”
“NO!” Nianyan’s answer echoes through the air like a thunder clap. Like it’s more than just in my mind.
Shit. Nianyan might be more stubborn than me. “Why? Are you worried? Worried that fate has finally come down here to prove that you can’t lurk in the shadows as some lonely old dragon all on your own?”
“I am not alone.” The shadows shift, and I realise it’s true. The glowing eyes of thousands of shadow dragons appear, watching us from the darkness.
“Shadow dragons,” I murmur, understanding. A whole new race of dragons, hidden down here from everyone, and they are our key to winning the war. If I am to have any chance of breaking Story out of the castle and killing the prince, and king too, then I need an army. I need something more, and it is staring me right in the face. I know Emyr won’t kill Story right away, and I have to pray to the deities he doesn’t hurt her. He is dead either way. “But you are trapped, aren’t you? I don’t think you’re here by choice. Was it a curse? Because you refused to take riders?” Nianyan’s eyes flash with anger, and he takes a step forward, the black dust rippling. I almost grin. “By my bloodline, perhaps? My family—especially the males—have always been tricky bastards when it comes to magic, and I don’t think you would have stayed down here for all these years. No, you can’t leave.” I watch him closely. “You were waiting for me.”
“Dead or alive, you set us free. The curse only said you had to bleed on our holy ground, and you have.” I look down at the blood dripping from the thousands of cuts on my body. Fuck. “I want to watch you die, but…the deity above is watching and wishes for something different. You will face one trial.”
Swirls of shadow magic wrap around me and settle on my hand as a new marking appears. Right in the centre of my palm, a dragon—looking just like the stubborn bastard that’s been staring me down—swirls across the skin, peering toward my fingertips. When I look up, I’m in the mansion again and daylight is streaming through the glass top. The stone dragon is still there in the centre, Story’s dragon, but I’m outside the library and it’s warm. It smells like smoke and cooked food. What the fuck is happening?
“Mazzis, you have to leave the library at some point! You’re going to grow old like a tree in there, with no love life or fun.”
My blood freezes at the sound of my sister’s voice. It’s been so long since I heard her speak, let alone with joy and happiness in every word. I turn around to see her standing there, her long dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, just as she always wore it when we were younger. Before life truly ate away at us. She’s grinning, her smile as massive as her presence.
They were always such good friends. Mazzis and her. It’s why I always liked him, because he asked for nothing of her friendship but her time, which she gave easily.
But I don’t remember this. It never happened in the past, and I don’t understand why I’m here now. Mazzis touches her shoulder. “The books are my fun in life, and if I am ever blessed with a love life, it is best to find me in the pages.”
My sister rolls her eyes. “Oh, Mazzis, I miss you.”
He frowns and looks over at me, bowing his head in greeting. I do the same. “Make sure she eats, Prince Ziven. She’s always running about and never eating enough.”
“I don’t even know which one of you two is my big brother.” She jokes, laughing low, before she comes closer to me.
I stare at her…for so long that Mazzis has left and it’s nearly night. The mansion has gone quiet, fires are lit up for lights, and there is a silence that only the night brings. “You’re dead.”
Her face drops, all the light and a smile leaving with it. Her skin pales. Her hair is sharply cut short above her ears—just like it was after Hettie was born. Before she gave up on life and let it drown out her fire. “Yes. But the gods have given us a chance. We can leave now. Go and see my daughter together, brother.” She offers me her hand.
“No.” I step back, right up to the railing. “You’re not real. This is a sick joke. It’s not funny. Where am I?” I shake my head, trying to remember, but I can’t. I can’t recall why I was here or even where I am. I glance back at the dragon in the middle, trying to summon any memory, but nothing comes to mind. Not even a story. It’s a statue…and it means something important, but I don’t know what it is. In fact, who am I?
A warm hand touches my arm. What is my sister’s name? I don’t know anything except she is my sister. It’s all fading. I can barely remember now. Her voice is soft, like coaxing an injured dog out of a hedge. “Do you remember my baby, Hettie? We can go together and be with her. She was such a special child. She’s more special than anyone knows. Do you know why she was allowed to be born?”
I can’t think. Suddenly, I remember her. Her blonde hair, her cheeky smile and attitude. She might be my niece by blood, but in every way that counts, I’ve been her dad, not just her uncle. I’ve brought her up to be the heir I likely will never have. “I do.”
“Hettie, the beautiful little girl that I had, well, she was prophesied long ago to the dragons. They let her become real with magic because she’ll be the queen who unites all of this broken world. When two kings give up their crowns to one, she can be…everything. She is to be the heir of both the Sun and the Moon, of the Twilight and the lost Dawn Dynasty. She has the blood of the Dusk in her from a long-lost line. She will be the queen of the dragons, the fae, and the vampyres and set about generations of peace.” She touches my cheek this time. “Don’t you see, Ziv? We can go and watch her from the afterlife together. She doesn’t need us now.” She begins to lead me down the path. “No one does anymore.”
My shoes dig into the path, and I make her stop, pulling my hand from hers and wherever she was leading me. “Story Dehana cannot be forgotten by whatever dark magic you are using. I’d never forget her, and I will never willingly walk into death…not even for you, my beloved sister. You are gone, and she is not.”
Fury blankets over her face, and she throws herself at me, a dagger appearing out of thin air as she tries to slam it into my throat. I knock her hand away just as it scratches across my skin. “The fuck are you doing?” I push her back. “And for the record, I know this isn’t my sister. She wouldn’t have laid a finger on me.” I grab her arm. “Stop!”
She starts fighting me, and it’s impossible to fight her back, even when I know it’s not her. She’s just like my sister, and I love her. She’s all I have left…right? I see shadows dancing around my face, pushing onto my skin and into my head. Everything begins to slip again until I can’t picture the woman I love anymore as I hold my sister back, as she screams at me to die. Even her daughter’s name flickers from my mind. Even when everything that comes to mind just slips away. Stories in my mind linger like they aren’t important anymore. Things that aren’t true, things that are. A woman in my arms, laughing sweetly.
I hold her tight to me, begging her to stop fighting me, stop trying to hurt me. Screaming it over and over in the mansion—a mansion which is nothing more than a room, a house, things that don’t make any sense. Did I live here once? I don’t know anymore. “Stop!” I shout at her, but it’s too late. She slams into me, and I let go—only for a second—and she goes falling over the banister, and I don’t hesitate. I fling myself over too and jump after her to try to save her even though she is dead already.
We both slam straight into a ledge, and I grunt from the impact, tasting blood in my mouth. My sister fades into nothing but shadows—grey shadows slipping from my hands—before spreading out into a dragon form. It cracks the sides of the mansion, and everything—brick and ash—falls, consumed by grey flames until I recognise Nianyan again.
I stand on a ledge, looking up at it. “That was cruel,” I snarl, all my memories rushing back. “She was my sister.”
“Even with your mind gone, your memories missing, you still jumped after her. Why?” He actually sounds confused and shocked. Fucking hell, my ancestors must have been power hungry assholes to make Nianyan believe we are all like that.
“Because she’s family. Because I loved her. I’m true to my word…I will be your rider.” I stand tall. “And I will rule this world in peace.” It watches me for a long time, and I watch it right back, knowing that nothing will stop me from being its rider. “I am stronger than any before me, and I want a better world. You’ve been inside my mind, and you know what I think. You know what I want.”
“I do not think you will survive this on good intentions alone. It is up to the deities now.” A cold breeze blows around me. “You were prophesied to come here a long time ago, King Ziven. Half the prophecies say you’ll die. Half of them do not. But either way, you will keep your deal with me.”
It slams into me with the full force of a dragon. I scream as I fall back, shadows ripping into my skin, grey flames bursting across my body.
He may be right because I don’t think I can survive this.