Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Itook a careful step away from the others, their eyes heavy on my back as I focused on my grandfather.
I kept my gaze fixed on him, on the red flame that burned inside Veralin’s irises.
Every instinct screamed at me to keep Zander at my side, to stay within Kaelith’s reach, but this… this was mine to face.
“How do you know I have a key?” My voice rang in the chamber, steadier than I felt.
His lips curved, slow and cruel. “Because I recognize its power.” His voice was smooth, velvet edged with razors, and it carried like a hymn through the vast room.
“Forged in the days before this kingdom fell, before the dragons turned against their own. It is a relic of the Light Fae, born of sacrifice. They entrusted it to someone who would guard their last secret. Yet here it dangles from your neck as though it were a trinket.”
My fingers tightened around the chain. “What does it unlock?”
Veralin leaned back, resting his pale hand on the arm of his throne.
The wards flared at his touch, crimson light racing along carved veins.
“This throne, Granddaughter. The key fits here. It is nothing much, of course.” His smirk deepened, though a shadow of genuine surprise flickered across his face.
“I had not thought the Light Fae so desperate as to place it in the hands of their enemy’s bloodline. A curious choice.”
“Nothing much?” I hissed, taking another step closer. His eyes tracked every movement. “You expect me to believe that? That the Light Fae sacrificed and bound their magic into this key so I could unlock nothing much?”
His smirk faltered, just a fraction, and I knew I’d struck truth under his lie.
“It has negligible power,” he said dismissively, but his gaze never left the chain in my hand. “Unlock the throne, gain nothing. What matters is who sits upon it. The rest is—decoration.”
I tilted my head, studying him the way Kaelith would stalk prey. “No. Whatever it unlocks, I’ll have it. All of it. Even if it means tearing it from under you.”
The smile fell from his mouth, and the throne behind him pulsed harder, its wards echoing like a second heartbeat through the room. His red eyes burned brighter.
Veralin rose slowly from the throne, each movement deliberate, as though the air itself bent to his command. The wards along the ancient seat flared brighter with his rise, casting the chamber in blood-light. His crimson eyes locked on me, gleaming with something between amusement and hunger.
“You wear the key, Granddaughter,” he said, his voice thick with promise. “It is not just a burden. It is your birthright. A claim to a realm that could be yours if you would only take it.”
He lifted a hand, and the surrounding room dissolved.
The cold stone, the blood-soaked wards, the stench of centuries—all gone.
In its place sprawled a kingdom of black glass and silver fire.
Towers taller than the skies of Warriath, rivers that glowed red with molten magic.
And circling above, black dragons, hundreds, thousands, more than I had ever seen.
Their scales shimmered like obsidian blades; their eyes locked on me as though waiting for a command.
“Look,” Veralin whispered, his voice carrying across the illusion like wind through the marrow of my bones.
“This is what I offer you. A throne, a realm, a kingdom built on fire and shadow. You could strengthen them, the black dragons. Their line is broken, but with your power, your blood, they could rise fertile again. No longer cursed remnants, but a living army.”
The dragons roared, the sound rattling my chest, shaking the ground beneath me. One swooped low, so close I could see the jagged texture of its scales, the twisted bond of darkness shackled around its heart.
Veralin’s presence pressed against me, a weight behind my ribs.
“I have held them for centuries, bound them to me through blood and bone. But you…” He stepped closer, his hand brushing the air just shy of my cheek.
“You could make them stronger. You could give them what I cannot. Life. Continuity. Dominion over all but us.”
The illusion shifted, and I stood at the center of a black court, a crown of shadow settling across my head. Dragons bowed their heads, fae warriors dropped to one knee, and the land itself pulsed in rhythm with my heart.
“This is what you could be,” Veralin said, his smile as lethal as steel. “This is the truth of your blood. Not as a pawn to kings who fear you, not as a rider chained to one dragon, but as sovereign of them all.”
My hand flew to the key at my throat, as hot as fire now, burning against my skin. Could it be true? Could I…
Kaelith’s hiss lashed through my mind, jagged and furious. Do not listen. It is poison wrapped in silk. He shows you what he wants, not what is real.
I blinked, the illusion flickering, but Veralin only laughed—low and terrible. “You feel it, don’t you? The pull of destiny. Do not deny it, Ashlyn. You were born for this.”
I tilted my head, feigning fascination with Veralin’s grand illusion, letting his red gaze drink in the lie that I might bend to his offer. My fingers brushed the key at my throat, and through the chaos of my thundering heart I whispered in my mind, Kaelith, how do I reach the keyhole?
Her magic pulsed hot through our bond, as quick as lightning. I do not know exactly what the key does, she said, her voice edged with strain. But it is tied to me—tied to us. To dragons. I believe it has something to do with our bondage.
Bondage? I pressed, careful not to let Veralin see my thoughts flicker. You mean the black dragons?
Her presence flared suddenly, violently, as though she had lashed out against something unseen.
I felt her recoil, wounded, scales shuddering against the pressure of ancient wards.
The throne is not what it seems, she hissed.
It is the artifact he used to enslave my brethren.
He sits atop their chains. That is how he holds them.
My stomach dropped, the weight of the key at my throat burning hotter than ever. If I unlock it, Kaelith… what happens?
Her silence stretched until it hurt. Finally, If the key turns… the fae ties to their dragons will dissolve.
The truth hit me like a blow to the chest. The black dragons will die?
Yes. There was no hesitation in her answer now, only grief. It cannot be helped. But the fae will not. They will simply lose their immortality.
I pressed my lips together, forcing myself not to look at Veralin, who still watched me like a predator certain its prey had nowhere left to run. He had no idea how close I was to unraveling his hold.
It is the only way, Kaelith whispered, mournful but resolute. But you cannot reach the throne while he guards it. He will never stray far from the artifact that gives him dominion.
Then we need him away from it. I forced my mind to sharpen, already building the ruse in my thoughts. How do we draw him out?
Kaelith’s growl vibrated through me, low and dangerous. Provoke him. His pride is his weakness. He will not allow insult—especially from his own blood. Make him burn to prove his power. Make him face you, away from the throne.
I let my eyes narrow as if weighing Veralin’s offer, turning the key between my fingers as though tempted. But inside, my pulse hammered like war drums. All right, I told her, gripping the plan like a weapon. Then let’s make him lose his temper.
“What do you want from me?”
Veralin’s cruel smile deepened as I spoke, as if he were savoring my question.
“What do I think you can do for me? For them?” His came closer his eyes glowing with perceived victory, and I swore the air pulsed with the heartbeat of the enslaved dragons.
“Give them fertility, Ashlyn. Give them life, as only a fertile female of your bloodline can. But keep them mine. All you need to do is renounce your pathetic friends, your fleeting attachments, and stand where you belong. Beside me. Feeding me.”
“You want to siphon my magic?”
His voice lowered, dark velvet soaked in venom. “Feed me your power, the power of your shifting dragon. She is the key. She always was. And through her, you.”
The words slammed into me like a physical blow. My breath caught in my chest. Kaelith. It was always you. The reason Severeth hunted me. The reason Veralin’s eyes glittered with insatiable hunger every time they touched me. Not for me alone, but for her. My dragon. My Kaelith.
But why Kaelith and not Siergen? My mind spun.
Her voice moved through my mind. Because he thought Siergen dead. Because no one ever saw through the disguise of the red Courier. But my chest constricted, rage blooming like fire. I am fertile. A female. And in this instance, I am more powerful than my brother ever was.
The truth scorched through me, searing away hesitation, until only fury remained.
I lifted my chin, letting every ounce of my Storm-born anger blaze in my eyes. “You’re pathetic,” I spat, my voice trembling with the force of it. “And your vanity rivals your stupidity.”
Veralin’s expression faltered, the smug mask cracking just slightly as my words struck him. His crimson eyes narrowed, and the air grew cold around him.
Inside my head, Kaelith’s growl thundered through our bond, proud and feral. Yes, little storm. Break him. Bring him to his knees.