Chapter 4
The City of Embris
DELILAH
The taller, slender male, Aurelius, took my hand in his and looked me in the eyes. They were filled with wisdom, a striking contrast to his youthful face. He spoke calmly.
“I know you are scared, but you are very seriously injured. The only way we can save your life is to take you to the nearest high healer, in the city of Embris, the capital of the Kingdom of Flame.”
His words were meant to comfort me, but the more I learned, the more confused and overwhelmed I became. Sensing this, he asked,
“What is your name, my lady?” I began to shake.
“Delilah,” I replied.
“What a beautiful name. It sounds like a song,” he said with a warm, calming smile.
Then he continued, “I am Aurelius, Master of Dragons for the Kingdom of Flame. This is my student, Prince Rexius, heir to the Flaming Throne. We were in the middle of a flying lesson when we heard your cry for help.”
Prince. Dragons. Flaming Throne. My brain could not keep up with the insanity of it all.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “Did you say dragon? Is that some sort of helicopter?”
The prince looked at me with a mix of impatience and disbelief. “I think Lady Delilah might have taken a blow to the head,” he said smugly.
Aurelius shot Rexius a sharp look before turning back to me. “Lady Delilah, if you wish to live, you must come with us at once. Do I have permission to carry you?” he asked.
Still shaking, on the brink of death, and with no other option in this strange world, I nodded.
He gently slid one arm beneath my knees and lifted me as if I weighed nothing.
After retrieving the swords, the prince followed close behind.
Aurelius carried me with one arm, my hands looped around his neck, while he parted the brush with the other until we reached a clearing.
It became clear that these beings were far stronger than any human I had known.
I heard them before I saw them. A low, thunderous rumble vibrated the pebbles beneath us, traveled through the earth, and settled deep into my bones.
Two dragons stood before me, each one the size of a bus.
Holy. Shit. Actual fucking dragons.
One had scales of deep sapphire and green, so dark they were nearly black, catching the sunlight like shattered glass.
The other was larger, with wings the color of molten bronze and eyes that glowed like embers.
I should have known after the lake monster and the mermaid that dragons would not be a stretch.
Still, they were a sight to behold, and I would never have believed it had I not seen them with my own eyes.
Part of me wanted to run. Another part wanted to kneel before the great beasts in reverence.
I could do neither with my injury. They were terrifying, yes, but also majestic, sacred, and strangely beautiful.
Though they wore saddles and gear, I somehow knew in my heart they were never meant to be tamed.
The smaller dragon turned its massive head and locked eyes with me.
Not with menace, but with curiosity. As if it saw something in me worth remembering.
It did not seem bothered by my presence.
If anything, I had the distinct impression that the scaly beast was just as awed by me as I was by it.
It lowered its head slightly in a subtle bow as I was brought closer.
Even the two males appeared taken aback by the gesture.
Did it just… bow to me?
Aurelius lifted me into a saddle designed for two and secured me carefully in front of him on the smaller blue-green dragon, taking great care not to disturb my injured leg.
I watched the way the Master of Dragons interacted with his mount. Despite everything happening around me, I could not help but be captivated. There was a deep bond between them. They moved as one, as if sharing the same thoughts and emotions.
I glanced over at the young prince, Rexius.
He clearly did not share the same connection with his dragon.
If anything, he seemed apprehensive as he approached it, and the beast, though it tolerated him, appeared annoyed.
I did not blame him for his fear. His dragon was larger and, overall, far more intimidating than the other.
The instructor’s large body behind me framed my own in the saddle. Because I was wet, cold, and in pain, I welcomed the warmth of his body heat and leaned back against him. He did not seem to mind.
“You are freezing. Here, take this,” he said, wrapping me in a blanket he pulled from a saddlebag.
“Zephyros, this is Lady Delilah,” he said by way of introduction.
The moment my hand brushed against the dragon’s warm scales, a strange tingling sensation flared—warm and electric—crawling up my arm and into my chest. The shimmering beast let out a throaty rumble of acknowledgment that vibrated through my bones.
That was weird.
Aurelius spoke a command in a language I did not recognize, and the dragon unfurled its expansive wings.
A powerful lurch sent us upward as the dragon beat its massive wings, the air crashing around us in rhythmic thunder. The initial moments were jarring. The sheer force pressed me into the saddle and stole the breath from my lungs.
Don’t scream. Don’t pass out. Don’t fall off the dragon.
Simple rules. Survive.
Rexius was airborne as well. His dragon still looked annoyed, and frightening. Very frightening.
We climbed higher, and I caught a final glimpse of the forest where they had found me. I watched it shrink until it disappeared from view.
It felt less like flying and more like surfing the sky.
I sensed every shift in momentum as the dragon dipped to gain speed, cut through clouds, or glided along thermal currents.
The sensation was dizzying, a roller coaster rush of force and weightlessness, though some of the dizziness might have been from the blood loss.
The wind howled past my ears, tearing at my thin gown and creating a rushing roar that drowned out everything else.
The sharp change in air pressure made my ears pop as we climbed higher.
I had always hated that about airplanes.
In general, I avoided heights. And yet, here I was, hundreds of feet in the air, soaring through the sky.
I gathered the courage to look down and saw our shadows gliding across the treetops far below.
A rush of adrenaline, fear, and wonder crashed over me all at once.
Even on the brink of death, I had never felt so alive.
I had no idea what would kill me first, the wound on my thigh, riding a dragon, or whatever awaited me in Embris.
The terror of plummeting to my death was matched by the majesty of seeing the world from such a celestial height, the horizon stretching endlessly in every direction.
If power like this existed here, I hoped it would never fall into the wrong hands.
The thought tightened my stomach into a knot.
Dark shapes rose on the horizon. Mountains—no, volcanoes.
Some glowed with slow streams of lava, others smoked quietly, and a few lay dormant.
The largest of them, violently alive, was clearly our destination.
We began our descent toward an enormous black castle carved directly into the volcano’s side.
The Lord of Flame, I remembered Aurelius mentioning. Of course he would live on a volcano.
The castle was a wound in the earth, not something built upon it.
Carved from the side of a living volcano, it radiated raw, elemental power.
Its jagged spires and angular ramparts were not stone blocks, but the solidified obsidian heart of the mountain itself, shaped and sharpened by forces far beyond human hands.
Magic, I decided. Given everything I had seen so far, it had to be magic.
The stone surface, rough and unforgiving in places, gleamed with the sinister polish of volcanic glass. The sky above was perpetually bruised with smoke and ash. Against a crimson tinged horizon, the black castle rose as a silhouette of impossible architecture, a void carved into the sky.
We landed on a wide gravel plateau cut into the volcano’s edge near the main gates. It was a circular runway of sorts, built for dragons rather than airplanes. With help, I dismounted and found myself once again in the arms of the Dragon Master. At
Aurelius’s command, the beasts took flight and vanished into the smoke-filled sky.
Boots echoed against polished basalt floors, each footstep swallowed by the vastness of the hall. Outside, I could still hear the distant roars of dragons and the thunder of their wings overhead.
Shadows clung to the corners like watchful spirits, and amber torches lined the walls, their flames flickering over carvings and tapestries depicting battles against terrifying, winged, bat-like creatures.
The interior reminded me of a dark, modern cathedral—a church built not for prayer, but for the worship of fire itself.
Then something caught my attention.
At the far end of the obsidian chamber, centered beneath a shaft of pale moonlight from a high skylight, stood a statue of white marble. It was likely the only object in the entire castle untouched by darkness. I felt myself drawn toward it, the same way I had been pulled toward the lake.
It was a dragon, but unlike the ones I had just seen.
Its form was smooth and graceful rather than jagged.
Its wings arched outward in a protective curve, claws poised, head lifted in regal defiance.
A dagger set with sapphires was clutched in its talons.
Its eyes, carved from stone and inlaid with sapphires, seemed to follow my movements, watching me as closely as I watched it.
But the true spectacle lay within the main hall.
A massive fissure split the fortress from top to bottom, and through this chasm poured a brilliant cascade of molten lava.
It snaked down a series of chiseled channels and spilled into the hall, moving with the mesmerizing, hypnotic grace of a primal force.
It was a river of fire flowing through the very heart of the castle, its brilliant light casting shifting shadows across the polished obsidian walls.
The air thrummed with a low, continuous rumble, like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant whose fiery blood coursed through sculpted veins of stone.
The throne was forged from blackened steel and volcanic glass, its surface veined with glowing magma that pulsed like blood.
Its back arched high, shaped like a pair of dragon wings caught mid-unfurl, each edge etched with ember-bright runes that flickered and shifted as if alive.
Flames curled lazily from the armrests, never consuming, but always burning—an eternal reminder of the power it represented. It
was clear that for those who lived here, fire was not merely a tool but a religion, where life and destruction existed in terrifying harmony. I made a mental note to avoid whoever occupied that throne at all costs.