Chapter 51
Lore
We stepped through the archway with Laphira and Dorion by our side and were greeted by silence. The air hung heavy, like the fates themselves were holding their breath.
A vast cavern stretched around us, lit by veins of glowing minerals in the walls.
The ceiling arched high above, a cathedral carved by time.
Cool, damp air swirled through the open space, prickling my skin.
The black stone beneath our feet had been etched through with silver that swirled in patterns I couldn’t decipher.
Reyla remained by my side, and I squeezed her hand before letting go. I needed both hands to steady myself as I stepped forward.
A part of me was shifting. Listening.
The space opened wider, revealing a ruined altar on the back side.
The platform had cracked, and old blood had long since dried in its grooves, creating dusky red ripples.
I approached it slowly, studying the area around it.
I should have blades in my hand, power ready to shoot out at any threat, but using either felt wrong here.
Dragon scales had been embedded in the walls around us. Light from luminescent insects peppering the ceiling highlighted the scales, showing some dark with age, others glinting like forgotten stars.
A silver-blue scale winked from the wall, and I was unable to resist the urge to touch it. It felt cool at first, but the moment my skin brushed the surface, it lit with heat that wasn’t fire but memory. I could barely breathe. My knees jolted. Light exploded behind my eyes, swallowing me whole.
I was no longer me, and I was watching from high above, my wings flapping in lazy strokes.
Night wrapped the forest in shadows, wind curling through the trees. Moss carpeted the ground, dotted with shallow pools reflecting the sky.
Frantic footsteps made their way through the darkness. A boy pushed through tangled vines, pausing at the edge of the overgrown meadow with The Hut. Sweat clung to his face, and anger burned in his eyes.
A sense of wrongness hit me, one as slippery as oil and colder than the deepest caves of the mountains.
I lifted my wings and soared, silent over the trees.
I didn’t know who the boy was. Yet some instinct, a burning, fierce thing, snapped awake.
Help him.
I surged through the air, a dark blur racing toward the need.
Below, the boy stumbled out into the meadow with The Hut.
A cloaked figure waited in the shadows. Watching. It didn’t move like others of its kind. It turned its hooded head toward the boy, and its intent churned its way through me. Its greed.
Rage boiled deep inside me.
It spoke, and I heard the call in the boy’s mind. Compel. Command. Control.
Shaking, the child remained in place. He tried not to move, but his shadow twisted forward, stretching toward the other. He took one step. Another. Roots pulled at his legs. His fists clenched, but he could not ignore the cloak figure’s call.
The need to protect him overwhelmed me, and I dove down toward them.
The cloaked thing’s voice rasped. “Send your shadow closer.” The boy's shadow dragged forward The Hut.
His mouth opened, but his scream remained trapped deep inside.
When the thing touched him, I roared.
Flames snarled up my throat, and I sent them, white-hot and screaming through the dark. My fire struck The Hut. The cloaked figure. Everything but the precious boy. Heat swelled, fire bounding from tree to tree, rabid wolves after a rabbit.
The figure slashed out with a blade, and the boy grunted.
I poured more fire, blazing it across the ground, seeking the thing. It reeled back, arms thrown up and cloak flaring.
It did not burn.
A flicker of magic, and it was gone from this place. The fire devoured what remained.
The boy fell to his knees, gripping his cheek where blood ran too bright and thick. His eyes searched the area before he leaped to his feet and ran, rushing through brambles, aiming for The Castle far in the distance.
I swept above him, keeping watch.
He never looked up, never knew I was there, my wings stretched wide enough to cut across stars. I followed him, low enough to see the blood trail across his cheek. Low enough to note that he did not cry.
His eyes shimmered though I sensed his tears came more from the shame than fear or pain. This boy’s will was a blade sharpened against the world.
Mine.
Protect.
He crossed back through the hidden door in The Castle wall.
I landed in the shadows beyond the tree line and folded my wings across my back, holding my body still. My claws dug into the soil.
Night passed.
The next.
I returned to The Hut’s remains, finding only ash and scorched earth. I searched for signs that the cloaked figure had returned, that it might rise again and reach for him. I left markings, claw gouges on the trees and scorched grass. To promise a reckoning if it dared return.
I returned to my hiding spot near the Castle, and I kept watching.
I thought the pull would never fade, that I would stay there until roots grew around and through my old bones. I did not sleep. Did not dream. I listened to the heartbeat of the world and to the echo of the boy’s footsteps, the memory of his blood surging deep inside me.
Protect.
It was a thrum of something older than me, a vow carved into scale and marrow.
One night, the urge to remain left. I rose from the earth, soaring up into the sky, flying far into the mountains.
When storms tore across the mountaintops and lightning split the sky, I remembered the dark-haired boy with angry eyes, running through darkness. Bleeding. Silent. Strong. And that same urge that once wrapped chains around my soul rose again.
That echo of need never lasted long, but it came often enough that I never truly forgot.
Protect.
And then it…and I…was gone.
Find her before it’s too late.
Too late…
The memory snapped, and I stumbled back from the wall.
Find her…
Inside the labyrinth, I’d thought the message referred to Reyla, but what if—
The air whooshed from my lungs. Heat seared across my arm, the dragon tattoo blazing.
What if her had meant the dragon queen all this time?
Reyla rushed over and gripped my arm.
“I saw it,” I grated out, staring at the now dull scale.
“What did you see?”
I dragged my eyes to her face. “The night. The hut. The fire.”
She frowned, reaching up to stroke my scar.
“A borgon saved me that night,” I told her.
She blinked. “Are you sure?”
I shook my head, scattering the thought. “No, not a borgon. A dragon.”
A shiver tracked through her. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch any more scales.”
“Without knowledge, there can be no truth or understanding.” The statement felt etched into my bones.
You’re alright? she asked.
I nodded, and she left me, approaching the altar.
A creamy scale gleamed, and I reached out…
Energy surged up my arm. My knees locked, and my vision blurred, flashing to white.
Everything around me disappeared. I was no longer myself.
My broad wings carved shadows into the earth as I flew up and over the tallest mountain peak.
Older than empires and older than the trees, I’d seen peace and war and everything in between.
I watched him. Aricor.
Hair black as wet bark. Youth shining in his face. A prince with polished boots and reckless eyes. He ran across the forest’s edge, clutching a book to his chest, his arm partly blocking the title. Ember’s…
And in that book, I smelled danger, dark secrets no boy-king had a right to see.
I'd watched him since he was born. Seen him laugh and play. Hovered near while he trained with the guard and whispered wishes to the wind. He was decent once, but not anymore.
He’d changed.
I should have stopped him when his heart first turned, when his thoughts twisted into jealousy. Back then, I thought it was an innocent thing. A boy's yearning. He followed Prager with quiet worship in his gaze. He was foolish. Harmless.
But the shift came quickly.
He learned of it one night, a tale of an object said to be able to shape love itself. Not summon it, not stir it naturally, but force it.
Iskar Cor.
It should’ve been lost by now. Buried where no one would ever find it. It never should’ve resurfaced or been used in this way.
I felt him change. He stopped dreaming of being chosen and started making demands of the wizard, all while seeking the Cor.
The book guided him to where it lay beneath a fallen shrine, its shape as pristine as the day it was forged. He poured magic into it, greedy and harsh. He bent the object to his will, hoping it would bend her in return.
I saw Prager, too. Kind-hearted. Gentle-eyed. Magic flared beneath her skin like comets. She smiled when unsure, stayed quiet when boldness might hurt. She loved each prince differently and might have chosen one of them.
Aricor could not wait, could not risk losing her to one of the others.
I flew low overhead the day it happened, scenting the magic before he cast it, rusted metal soaked in rain. At his command, the coil of the object’s power streaked between them.
Prager cried out, one hand going to her head, the other pushing toward him in protest. Her voice trembled. She recoiled.
He’d poisoned love.
Now, her eyes filled with sorrow and fear.
He said her name, over and over. Begged her to say she loved him, that she chose him. But every word he spoke wrapped around her like a noose.
And that’s when I knew that the thing he created should never have been allowed to exist. It would undo everything the dragons had protected.
I launched into the sky, fury blistering my scales.
His hand grazed her shoulder.
She screamed.
And I shattered.
Gasping, I wrenched my hand away from the scale, unable to meet Reyla's eyes, though I could feel her gaze locked on me again.
“What did you see?” Dorion asked. He glanced around nervously. “This place reminds me of…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
The labyrinth haunted us all.
Laphira stood by his side, gazing up at him with concern. “We're not there. I promise.”
He leaned over to kiss her brow.
Tell me, Reyla said. I can tell it was horrifying.
I shook my head, not wanting to admit what Aricor had done. But I had to, right? Without honesty between us, we had nothing.
I told her and waited with my jaw clenched and my chest an aching pit.
She gazed at me with sympathy.
“The dragon queen,” I said, pieces it together. “She's the key. The memories aren't just showing me the past, they're showing me what I need to know. The dragon who tried to stop Aricor might be the only one who knows how to fix this.” Dread snapped tight inside me. “I’m so sorry.”
She came over and stroked my arm. “Aricor did it, not you. His sin is not your own, and we're here to right it. We’ll find a way to repair it, because it's wrong for you to pay for the horrible mistake he made.”
Cupping her face, I kissed her, sending every bit of love I felt for this precious woman into my touch.
She moaned and clung to me.
Lifting my head, I pushed for a smile. “Thank you.”
Biting down on her lower lip, she nodded. “Don't blame yourself again.”
I won't if you don't, I said in her mind.
Ah, yes, good point.
Don't forget it.
Her smile came true, warming me from the inside out.
“Your smile could rebuild anything,” I said, my voice thick with emotions. “Even me, a man born from ashes and ruin.” I wouldn’t survive losing that smile or the light she didn’t realize she gave me with every look.
“We all carry sins we didn’t earn,” Dorion said, his gaze on the wall of scales. “If anyone understands that, it's me. You’re not the only one trying to untangle a bloodline.”
I scanned the cavern, wondering what we needed to do next. If this place remembered, then so did the curse. And if it came for my wildfire next, I would never forgive myself.
My love for her might not be enough. I’d give everything to protect her. But love hadn’t saved the world once, and I wasn’t sure it could now.
Reyla’s hand slid across my back.
I tilted toward her. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her touch spoke in a language my body would always remember, the kind carved deep into my skin.
Even if the world erased names and rewrote the fates' plans, I’d still know her, find her, follow her. I didn’t believe in forever, but I believed in her.
If the threads of fate ever unravel again, I said. I’ll weave you into the next world so you won’t be lost to me.
I’m already weaving you, love. Seeing the quiet strength in her eyes broke me inside.
I loved her so much it hurt. I wanted to stuff time in a jar and never let it slip free. But time had claws, and it always demanded more than I could give.
A growl pulled us both around.
Farris stood near the back wall, pawing at something. We joined him, staring down at a mirrored pool hidden in a hollow, surrounded by carved stone and moss.
The surface rippled, light arcing off it, hitting three golden rings embedded in smooth stones mounted in front of the pool.
Reyla crouched down and held her hand over the water, not touching.
Instinct pushed me closer, that same feral feeling I got when she was in danger. Let it come for me, not her. Always me.
Farris snorted, and Dorion was there in an instant, his blades half-drawn.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Not water.” Laphira dropped to her knees beside Reyla. “I think…” Tipping her head back, her gaze met mine and then Dorion's. “I think something’s waiting there.”
“Three rings for three talismans,” Reyla said. “But why a pool? What's beneath the surface?”
The water began to glow with the same silver light we'd seen in the tunnel. I caught movement in the depths. Whatever it was, it had been waiting a very long time.
“The rings match the pattern from the rune above.” Reyla nudged her chin toward them.
I knelt beside her, studying the setup. Three rings. Three talismans. The connection was too obvious to ignore.
“Finally.” The hope I’d borrowed from my wildfire on the rooftop long ago came through in my voice. “This is where we break the curse.”