Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
The sound of wingbeats made my head lift sharply.
Hein descended hard onto the scorched grounds, his great frame swaying slightly as he touched down. His breath came in short huffs, his wings trembling—not from exhaustion, but from the strain of what he’d carried.
Zander slid off his back, boots thudding against the stone. He straightened with effort, dragging a hand through his wind-tangled hair, and I sucked in a breath.
His face was ashen.
There were deep, shadowed hollows beneath his eyes, his magic a dim hum around him where it usually crackled like fire. His steps toward us were steady, but each one looked heavier than the last.
He was spent.
“Zander—” I was about to move toward him, but a shout from the castle pulled both our gazes around.
“Zander!”
Elara tore across the Ascension Grounds barefoot, skirts hitched, her silver braid flying behind her. Her eyes were wild, wet with tears.
Zander saw her, and stopped. Just long enough to bend, arms sweeping her off the ground the moment she reached him.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, hoarse. “You know it’s not safe.”
Elara buried her face into his shoulder, fists curled into his collar. “You pushed too far,” she sobbed. “We almost lost you.”
My heart stopped. Lost him?
I turned, pressing a hand against Kaelith’s warm scales. What is she talking about?
Kaelith’s voice came like a slow, steady drumbeat in my mind. He pushed his magic too far. Past the point of burnout.
What does that mean?
He could have died.
I swallowed hard, my gaze locking on the way Zander’s arms held Elara—tight, grounding. Not just for her.
But for himself.
How would Elara even know that? I asked.
Kaelith’s mind curled with thought.
I do not know.
I gently helped Meri down from Kaelith’s back, steadying her with a hand under her arm. Her legs wobbled as her boots hit the ground, her body still weak from pouring so much of herself into healing Jax.
She turned back and lifted her hand, running her fingers over Kaelith’s scales like she were touching something sacred.
There was a hush in the motion, reverent and soft.
Her lips parted in a silent breath of awe before she finally turned and made her way toward the healers’ quadrant without another word.
I watched her go, then turned—
Siergen stood beside me.
Not a sound. Not a single sign of his approach. He just… was there.
But he wasn’t looking at me.
His eyes were fixed on Elara, her small body wrapped in Zander’s arms as she wept into his chest. Zander knelt with her, whispering something into her ear, his hand moving in slow circles along her back, grounding her even as he looked ready to collapse himself.
More dragons landed on the Ascension Grounds. Riders dismounted, some battered, some bloodied, some visibly shaken.
But none of them spoke.
They just watched.
All of them.
Watched Zander.
The air felt tight with it—like a question left hanging in the sky.
Why?
Kaelith, I whispered across our bond, why are the dragons watching him like that?
Her answer came slow, like smoke curling through my ribs.
They are not watching Hein’s rider.
Then who?
His sister.
I blinked, gaze snapping back to Elara, her braid tangled, her arms clutching Zander’s tunic as if it were the only thing holding her together.
Why?
Because she is universal.
What does that mean?
All dragons must be compatible with their rider. We wait, sometimes lifetimes, for one whose magic mirrors our own. She… is compatible with all of us.
All of you? My throat tightened. How is that even possible?
Kaelith didn’t answer right away.
Then—Whatever her power is… it exists in every dragon. It is not unique. It is inherited. Shared. And sleeping.
Fire? I asked. It was the only magic every dragon had, in some form.
Maybe, Kaelith said.
Elara cried harder. Zander didn’t move. And across the field, dragons watched her like they already knew.
The world was changing.
And she was at the center of it.
I stepped forward, the soft crunch of scorched earth beneath my boots the only sound as I approached them. Zander was still on one knee, holding Elara close, his face drawn and pale. Her small frame trembled in his arms, her lavender eyes, so much like his, red and shining with tears.
“Hey,” I said gently, crouching beside them. “Are you alright?”
Elara looked up at me, her tear-streaked face pale beneath the fading light. Her gaze was raw and open, more ancient than a girl her age should carry.
“Don’t let him do it again,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Next time he won’t come back.”
My heart clenched.
I reached out and brushed a bit of hair from her cheek. “I won’t, honey. I’ll have a very long conversation with him about his limitations.”
Zander gave a low grunt beside me, one of protest or guilt, I wasn’t sure, but Elara’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile.
“He’ll listen to you,” she said softly.
“He better,” I muttered.
Zander’s hand shifted to my knee. “I promise to be more careful,” he said, the words quiet but sincere. “We’ll increase precautions. Triple patrols. Now that we know the wards are compromised—”
“They’re not down permanently,” Elara interrupted, sitting up straighter. “Not yet.”
Zander and I both looked at her.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Her throat worked around the truth before she said it. “Someone sabotaged them.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Who?”
Elara shook her head slowly, eyes wide and haunted. “I don’t know. But I can feel it. Like something twisted the magic. It wasn’t time for them to fall.”
Zander swore under his breath.
My hand found hers and I squeezed it gently.
Because if the wards hadn’t failed on their own—
That meant someone wanted them to.
Zander brushed a hand over Elara’s hair, his voice low. “How do you feel the magic like that, Elara? How can you tell the wards were sabotaged?”
Elara hesitated, chewing her bottom lip as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her tunic. “I don’t know… exactly. It’s just… there. Like it hums around me when something’s wrong. Like the wind before a storm.”
Before either of us could press further, a new voice slid into our minds, crisp and calm.
Siergen.
Her power is undeveloped, he said. I am unsure exactly what it is, but it feels… elemental. Not like fire or water. Something deeper. Older.
Zander let out a slow breath and kissed Elara’s cheek. “Come on. Let me take you back to your room.”
But Elara pulled away gently and turned toward Siergen, her eyes soft but steady. “Siergen can take me. You need to rest. You’re a mess.”
I let out a short grunt at her bluntness, and to my surprise, Siergen’s lips curled into what could only be described as a smile—small, rare, and vaguely terrifying.
It is always my honor to escort you, Princess, he said solemnly.
Elara stepped forward without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his long neck. Before anyone could stop her, she pressed a kiss to the ridge of his jaw.
Zander stiffened slightly.
And then Siergen turned with a fluid grace, escorting her toward the castle like a shadow given form.
I blinked after them. “She just kissed a dragon. I’m not sure I’d attempt that now, let alone at her age.”
Zander rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Kaelith would incinerate you.”
I didn’t argue.
“But Siergen…” he said quietly, his eyes still following the pair. “He has always been what me or Elara needed.”
I glanced at him. “What does that mean?”
Zander’s gaze darkened with something like memory. “I mean… he raised us. Not in the way the court pretended to, but in the way that mattered. He taught me what it meant to be loyal. And he’s the only one Elara ever turned to besides me.”
I looked after the towering shadow of the dragon and the girl who held his heart.
Whatever her power was—
She was already more than she understood.
And Siergen seemed to know it better than anyone.
I turned back to Zander, still watching the place where Siergen had disappeared into the castle with Elara. “What do you mean Siergen raised you?”
Zander’s jaw tensed. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he sighed and looked down at his boots, as if the memory weighed him heavier than anything else ever had.
“My father was… hard on me. Even when I was young.” His voice was quiet. “He never told me why, but now… now we both know the truth.”
“How was he hard on you?” I asked carefully.
Zander’s gaze flicked to Hein, who stood behind him like a statue carved from flame and scale. “He got rough when he drank. One night, he decided I needed to learn how to fight.”
The air around us stilled.
Zander’s voice dropped. “The session ended with my leg broken. And both of my wrists. I was lying on the floor of my room, spitting out blood through my tears. I couldn’t move. I remember wondering if I was going to die right there and if anyone would even care.”
Hein let out a low, guttural growl. The sound vibrated through the ground, his wings flexing as if the memory physically pained him. It was obvious he’d never heard this story.
“What happened?” I asked softly, barely able to speak.
“I was so tired,” Zander said. “And I remember whispering to the dark… asking if my father was going to kill me for being weak.”
His smile was faint, crooked with old pain. “That’s when Siergen appeared.”
I inhaled sharply. “What did he do?”
“He walked in like he knew everything about me. Looked at me with those cold golden eyes before he lay down beside me.” Zander paused, his expression distant. “He told me to get on his back.”
My breath caught.
“He carried me to the healers’ quadrant. Quietly. Carefully. He talked the whole time, telling me stories about ancient riders and the first guilds, about how I was destined to be one of them. My hand was on his scales, and they were so warm. I remember whispering, ‘Will you be my dragon?’”
I smiled faintly. “And he said no?”
Zander’s eyes softened. “He said, No, little prince. You are meant for a dragon far greater than I. He will be powerful. A bit unruly and slightly grumpy.”
From behind us, Hein snorted so hard a puff of smoke escaped his nostrils.
Zander chuckled under his breath, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But Siergen always returned to check on me and later Elara. I don’t know what he did, but my father never touched me again. In fact, he seemed afraid to go near me.”
I reached for his hand, fingers sliding into his without a word. His grip was strong, but there was a tremble there too.
And I knew—Zander hadn’t just grown into a leader.
He’d been forged.