Chapter 9 #5
“The connection is part of a ritual undergone by the monarch. The strength of our magic then brings fertility and stability to the land. In times of imbalance, it’s not uncommon that a monarch takes a spouse who undergoes a similar ritual binding.
After what Orithyia’s tower did to Aureum, there have been calls for me to wed.
Now that I have, there will be calls to crown you queen to restore that balance.
I wanted you to know that you needn’t pay them any mind and that the binding is something you should only do because you wish it.
The ritual makes the connection permanent and being a monarch requires that you partake in a great many rituals and prayers to appease the tangible gods and the spirits. ”
Her heart hammered with hope. Maybe he was telling her this because the matter of the beasts was already a foregone conclusion in his mind and he was preparing for what came afterwards.
“Do you want me to be crowned queen?”
After everything she’d done, she was surprised he’d even offer it.
“If that is what you wish for,” he hedged.
Did she want another permanent tie to the ancient past when her heart was so clouded by doubts?
“I will very seriously consider it,” Aurora replied as truthfully as she was able.
The Dragon’s Tongue River sparkled in the distance, the rush of water a constant, low hum.
They were close now. Aurora gripped her loper’s reins, her hands clammy.
The moment of truth was nearly upon them and she neither smelled death on the breeze nor heard the call of buzzards.
The last rise of the Dragon’s Spine Mountains ended in a graceful slope as they neared the end of the Queen’s Road.
“Aurora, before we arrive, I must tell you something,” Theron began. “There is a possibility the heads won’t be waiting for us.”
Aurora had only a moment to register her stomach dropping to her knees as their lopers reached the end of the Queen’s Road and the soaring Colonnades of the Colossus.
The waters were higher, the channel wider, the area greener than what she recalled, but it was unmistakable.
Not even several thousand years had changed this place beyond recognition.
She was back in Aureum, where her journey had begun.
Except this time, her husband was the monster.
Because across the Colonnades stood a small army in Aurean colours.
There was no stench of death and no carrion birds circling in the sky because there were no beastly heads to speak of—not dead ones at least. He’d managed to fess up that part at least. No, instead there were a dozen giant serpents with their crowns of horns, their reptilian gazes taking in the crowd across the Colonnades, their tongues flicking out and tasting the air.
The only birds in the sky were circling low—and enormous enough that they carried several soldiers on their backs.
Leukos’ worst prediction had come true.
“Shit,” Theron cursed.
As her eyes took in the horror before her and the Viridians rushed to battle formation, her heart broke anew.
He had lied. Theron never intended to kill the beasts—never intended to win back her trust. Only placate her until he could return home, the full force of his beastly army ready to welcome him with open arms.
“Your Highness!” Leukos called, shoving his loper between Aurora’s and Theron’s, grabbing her reins and dragging her back to the relative safety of the Viridian formation. “Get a hold of yourself, Your Highness! Now!”
Then the clouds over the canyon trade road darkened, and Aurora’s heartbreak turned swiftly to abject terror.
“Merciful Triad, it’s Drakon,” she choked.
And here she was, no closer to mastering her magic and with Hyllus nowhere in sight.
“Here?” Leukos asked, alarmed.
Aurora pointed her finger as the clouds turned an ugly black, a flash of red scales glinting in the dark mass.
When the Beast of Old finally emerged over the mountains, the Viridians panicked.
Leukos shouted orders to no avail, using his loper to protect Aurora from the horde of fleeing soldiers.
He withdrew his sword and shield, for whatever good they would do him, as Aurora was rooted to the spot.
The great serpent slithered across a bank of inky black clouds, its yellow eyes taking in the scene below.
With remarkable speed, it dove atop the Aurean army, hovering above and shrouding them in darkness, its foul head pointed squarely at Aurora.
And atop the horrible, familiar head, riding it like a war loper, was a woman with deep brown skin and dark red hair.
“Surrender, Viridian scum, or suffer the might of King Theron’s army!” Her voice carried across the Colonnades.
This was how the world ended—with Drakon’s birth.
With her husband’s cousin riding the beast as though she or anyone else could control the calamity they’d unleashed.
Over the course of millennia, tens of millions of Trisians would perish to Drakon’s wrath, over and over and over again.
Unless she could stop him—both the beast and the monster who had created it, sheltered it, and had the hubris to think he could control it.
Who had lied about its existence from the first and continued to lie about it with every breath he took.
An agent of chaos.
The last King of Aureum.
In the confusion, Aurora met Theron’s gaze and became certain of one thing.
That not even death would prevent her vengeance against her despicable husband.