Chapter 36
Chapter
Thirty-Six
The riders were silent, every gaze pinned on Siergen as his crimson form pulsed with quiet authority. No words passed from his maw, no orders barked. He simply rose, his wings unfurling in one graceful sweep, and took to the air.
One by one, the dragons followed.
It wasn’t spoken aloud, but every rider dismounted, sliding from their partners with reverent efficiency.
As soon as boots hit dirt, the dragons leaped skyward and soared toward the Dragon Isle like shadows born of flame and wind.
Within moments, the Ascension Grounds were eerily still, empty of every dragon save for Hein and Kaelith.
Zander must come to the Dragon Isle, Kaelith said, her voice sharp in my mind.
“I’m coming with him,” I said quickly, already moving toward her.
Then mount up, Ashe, she replied.
I didn’t hesitate. Zander did the same, swinging onto Hein’s back, and as our dragons rose in tandem, his voice brushed against my thoughts like a caress of Dark Fire.
It seems I’m not the only one with family issues.
My lips twitched despite everything. Do you know what this is about?
Not really. Hein just said I have to speak to the dragons. Siergen has called another summit.
We cut through the clouds as twilight settled across the sky like bruised silk. The isle appeared beneath us, verdant and timeless, its clearing filled once more with dragons. But something felt different. More still. More dangerous.
We landed with practiced grace, Kaelith’s powerful legs folding beneath her as she touched the ground.
Stay seated, Kaelith said, her voice low with something that felt like warning.
I obeyed, glancing toward Zander as he dismounted, his boots crunching softly against the grass. He moved toward Siergen, who stood at the center of the gathering, some dragons bowing their heads ever so slightly as he passed.
Zander stood before Siergen, shoulders squared and posture rigid, but the strain in his jaw revealed the storm beneath his skin. “How may I be of service, my friend?”
Siergen’s golden eyes, usually laced with ageless fury and solemn weight, softened—just barely—as they met Zander’s. You must take the mantle of leadership until Dorian can claim the throne.
Zander’s brows pinched together, his voice low. “Even if my father lives?”
If he lives, Siergen said, he will no longer have the capacity to rule.
Zander stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Why would you say that?”
Siergen lowered his massive head just enough for his breath to stir the grass between them. Emlem’s bond with Eldarn has severed.
Zander reeled back a step as if struck. “No…”
If he lives, Siergen continued, his voice a growl of sorrow and knowing, he will be severely weakened. He will no longer possess the strength to rule… or ride.
The pain that flashed through Zander’s eyes was as sharp as any blade. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his breath catching.
“Eldarn severed the link?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
No, Siergen replied, Emlem did. He was connected to his dragon, feeding off Eldarn’s strength to stay alive. He cut that link so Eldarn would no longer feel the pain.
Zander exhaled hard, Dark Fire flickering faintly in his irises before it died away. He stared off toward the sea, then closed his eyes.
“Dorian will be a strong king,” he said finally, voice firm but quiet. “I hope Emlem lives long enough to see his legacy.”
As do I, Siergen said, the ache of a thousand battles in his tone. But in the meantime, you must take responsibility for the throne.
Zander turned back to face him fully.
My brethren are divided, Siergen continued. Many have riders who believe Theron would make a better king. I am not one of them, but I will not ignore their opinion. I have been wrong before.
Silence settled between them like a drawn breath, as dozens of dragons watched in stillness—waiting for their prince to choose who he would be.
Coldrath’s massive form prowled forward from the outer line of dragons, his red scales dull in the moonlight. Theron has stepped up while Dorian abandoned us, he said, his voice cold and smooth like frost on steel. Foran refuses our call. He is obviously enthralled by his rider and ignoring you.
Siergen turned, and I felt his voice thunder through my mind again, he wasn’t restricting his words to dragons alone. I was grateful to be included in the link, but I assumed he wanted me to know what was transpiring.
I have met with Foran on several occasions, Siergen replied, his tone level but sharp enough to draw blood. It is unsafe for the horde for him to communicate telepathically. Do not ask me to explain further. You know I do not lie.
Coldrath hesitated, then flicked his gaze to Zander with something that burned of resentment. You favor this human even though he is not your rider. One wonders if you knew he belonged to Hein. You have always deferred to your clutchmate’s chosen.
Siergen’s lips peeled back slowly, fangs bared in a silent, menacing snarl. I have not deferred to him because he is Kaelith’s chosen. I have groomed him to be my successor.
Coldrath recoiled half a step, the tension palpable in his scaled body, but the anger remained in the set of his wings. His golden eyes flicked to Zander again, and a flash of shame crossed them. I was unaware you had entered the reclaiming.
I am quite healthy Coldrath but it takes time to groom a successor and you have forgotten we are in mixed company.
Coldrath glanced at Zander. My apologies, my king.
This is not about apologies, Siergen said, stepping forward with regal fury rolling off him in waves. It is about truth. I am simply putting the needs of my horde first. If you or any other believe I am wrong, or that Hein is unworthy of carrying our strength, I open the floor to combat.
His gaze swept the gathering.
Any who believe they are strong enough to take Hein in a fight, step forward now.
The clearing fell into deathly silence. Dragons shifted uneasily, some lowering their heads. No one moved. No one spoke.
Not even Coldrath.
A hush fell over the clearing as a large, dark-blue Striker pushed through the gathered dragons. He was massive, nearly as large as Hein, with scales that shimmered like obsidian doused in midnight. I didn’t recognize him, but the authority in his steps made my pulse skip.
I will fight Hein, his voice rolled through our minds like thunder, low and absolute. If he can beat me, then there is no better choice.
Hein growled, low and lethal, and stepped away from Zander just as he reached for the reins. “You will regret that choice,” Zander said, as he stepped toward Hein.
Lorseth has no rider, Kaelith whispered in my mind. Hein must fight him without one.
Zander’s eyes darkened, black fire flickering at the edges, smoke curling from his clenched fists. He looked ready to lunge at the challenger himself.
Stand down, Siergen’s voice snapped across the link, laced with an authority that silenced even the fire. The flames in Zander’s eyes extinguished, but his jaw remained locked as Hein padded forward, massive and unyielding.
The two dragons began to circle, Hein’s heavy, armored scales gleaming in the moonlight, Lorseth’s sleeker body moving like a predator. Each step was measured, a test, a warning. Their tails lashed in rhythm, claws carving grooves into the soft earth of the clearing.
They didn’t roar.
Didn’t posture.
This wasn’t a show of dominance.
This was a battle for the soul of the horde.
Lorseth lunged first.
A blur of dark muscle and lethal intent, the massive blue Striker slammed into Hein with a sound like mountains colliding.
Claws raked across Hein’s plated side, tearing through thick silver hide and sending shards of scale flying.
Hein roared, deep, guttural, warlike, and retaliated with a brutal swing of his tail that cracked against Lorseth’s shoulder, spinning the challenger sideways.
But Lorseth was quick. Too quick.
He twisted in midair, wings flaring wide as he raked Hein’s side again, this time drawing blood. Dark ichor hissed against the grass as it fell, the scent of scorched iron thick in the air.
Hein bellowed, rising onto his hind legs and slamming his full weight into the challenger’s chest. The two titans crashed to the ground in a frenzy of snapping teeth and shredding claws. The earth trembled. Dirt exploded around them. I couldn’t tell where one dragon ended and the other began.
Kaelith’s voice trembled with tension. Lorseth fights like one who has never lost.
And Hein fights like one who refuses to, I breathed.
The fight turned savage.
Hein landed a crushing blow to Lorseth’s flank with his shoulder, toppling the blue Striker. But Lorseth twisted beneath him, his jaws snapping shut around Hein’s forearm. Blood poured freely now, painting both of them in streaks of war.
But Hein didn’t flinch.
With a snarl that shook the clearing, Hein ripped free and lunged, catching Lorseth by the neck. His jaws locked with thunderous force, and he wrenched the blue dragon to the ground, pinning him with the full weight of his armored body.
Lorseth thrashed once. Twice. Then stilled.
Hein stood over him, his breathing heavy, his sides heaving as blood dripped from his wounds. His teeth remained locked around Lorseth’s neck. One motion, one final tightening of his jaw, and it would be over. A clean, merciless death.
But Hein held.
Waiting. Watching.
The clearing held its breath.
Siergen’s voice was calm, but edged in command. Hein, release him.
Hein’s jaws slowly unclenched. Lorseth coughed as air surged back into his lungs, his body slumping to the earth in defeat. Hein stepped back, bleeding and battered, but with a prideful lift to his head.
Hein will be a good leader when the time comes, Siergen said to the gathering. But that is a ways off. I will see Kaelith’s clutch reach maturity before I relinquish the title.
Kaelith gave a low grunt in response, something that felt like denial—though the way Hein’s eyes moved to her, filled with fire and hunger and something deeper, said plainly he would challenge that decision the moment he was ready. She may not be in a rush to procreate but her mate was.
Zander walked over quietly, the soft clink of a small vial in his hand. He pulled a cloth from his belt and knelt beside Hein’s massive front leg. Without speaking, he poured the salve onto the cloth and began to dab at the torn hide, cleaning blood from his dragon’s wounds.
“Tell your blue friend,” Zander muttered under his breath, “if he touches you again, he’ll fry. Even dragons aren’t immune to Dark Fire.”
The clearing remained silent. Dozens of dragons watched, heads low, wings still.
Hein glanced down at his rider. Not with judgment or disdain, but with something deeper. A bond that had only sharpened with every trial they’d endured. His tail curled slightly toward Zander, protective and proud.
Then Siergen’s voice filled all our minds, clear and resonant. And that is why we have the treaty with the riders. Hein beat Lorseth in a fair fight, but he will forever possess the strength of his rider. Even after Zander has retired from this world.
Kaelith’s voice chimed in next, bold and sure. I wish Zander to be interim leader of the humans at least where the dragons are concerned. He will speak for the realm in all matters involving the horde.
One by one, the dragons gave their assent. Not all, but most. A few still clung to Theron’s promises or feared what Zander’s bond with Dark Fire might mean.
But the majority had spoken.
Zander would lead where the crown faltered.
The human throne would wait. But the dragons had made their choice.