Chapter 31 The Fourth Relic
THIRTY-ONE
THE FOURTH RELIC
TAMSIN
The kingdom of Valdoria burns behind me.
Three days of running. Three days of hiding in shadows and sleeping in ditches, of rationing the last of my magic to keep the wards around the Relic intact. Three days since the Shadow Clan descended on my home and reduced centuries of history to ash and screaming.
My family is dead. My court is scattered. My kingdom—the kingdom I was supposed to inherit, supposed to protect—exists only in memory now.
All because of the artifact pressed against my chest, hidden beneath layers of warding and desperate magic.
The Dominion Crown. The one my bloodline has protected for generations, passed from queen to princess in an unbroken chain of duty and sacrifice.
King Ulrik wants it. Wants me. And after what his son’s death cost him, he won’t stop until he has both.
I am Princess Tamsin of Valdoria. Witch-born, Fire-Bringer blooded, and the last surviving heir to a throne that no longer exists.
My mother was a witch—one of the most powerful in three generations. My father carried Fire-Bringer blood, dormant in his veins but alive in mine. The combination should have been impossible. Instead, it made me something rare. Something valuable.
Something hunted.
The Relic responds to both bloodlines. Witch magic to seal it. Fire-Bringer flame to control it. I’m the only one who can do both—the only one who can keep the Crown dormant while the Shadow Clan tears the world apart searching for it.
I was supposed to have a lifetime to learn how to wield this power. Instead, I have three days of exhaustion and a rapidly depleting well of magic.
I need help. I need allies. I need the only people in the world who’ve successfully fought the Shadow Clan and won.
I need the Brotherhood.
The Brotherhood will never help me.
I know this. Have known it since the moment I decided to seek them out. Because of all the dragons who guard the realms, all the warriors who might stand against the Shadow Clan, I’m asking for help from the one family my bloodline has already destroyed.
Auren Valek. The Brotherhood’s strategist. Cold, calculating, and utterly without mercy when it comes to witches.
I know why he hates us. Know the story even though I wish I didn’t.
My sister Morrigan killed his.
Morrigan, who was supposed to inherit the Crown before her magic twisted into something dark. Morrigan, who murdered Auren’s younger sister in a ritual meant to steal the girl’s fire. Morrigan, who fled our kingdom rather than face justice and has been allied with the Shadow Clan ever since.
My sister started this war. My sister turned Auren Valek into the witch-hating dragon he is today. And now I’m going to knock on his door and beg for sanctuary.
He’ll want to kill me. Might actually try. And I won’t entirely blame him if he does.
But the Relic matters more than my life. More than his hatred. More than the blood debt my sister carved into his heart.
If the Shadow Clan gets the Crown, everything—Valdoria, the Brotherhood, the fragile peace between dragons and humans—all of it burns. And I’m the only one who can stop that from happening.
The Brotherhood fortress rises from the mountains like a warning.
I’m half-dead by the time I reach the gates. Blood from a wound on my side has soaked through my makeshift bandages. My magic is nearly depleted—just enough left to maintain the Relic’s wards, nothing more. If anyone attacks me now, I’ll die.
The guards at the gate are dragon-shifters, their eyes tracking my approach with predatory focus. One of them inhales sharply when I get close enough to scent.
“Witch.” The word drips with contempt. “And... Fire-Bringer?”
“Both.” I straighten my spine despite the pain. I am a princess. I will not grovel, no matter how desperate my situation. “I need to speak with your leaders. I have information about a Relic.”
The guards exchange glances. Uncertainty wars with hostility in their expressions.
“The Relic,” one repeats. “And you expect us to believe—“
“I don’t expect anything.” My vision is starting to blur at the edges.
Blood loss. Exhaustion. I don’t have time for this.
“But if you turn me away, the Shadow Clan will have the Crown within a fortnight. King Ulrik will have the power to destroy everything you’ve built.
Is that what you want to explain to your Guardian King? ”
Silence. Then one guard peels away, disappearing into the fortress. The other keeps his eyes fixed on me, hand on his weapon, ready to strike at the first sign of treachery.
I wait. Sway on my feet. Focus on breathing, on keeping the wards around the Relic intact, on not collapsing before I’ve delivered my message.
I came here to save the world. I might die on this doorstep instead.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
The doors open, and he emerges.
Auren Valek is exactly as the stories describe: tall, golden, coldly beautiful in the way of ancient predators. His eyes sweep over me with clinical assessment—cataloging my wounds, my exhaustion, the magical signature that marks me as both witch and Fire-Bringer.
Those eyes freeze when recognition hits.
“Valdorian.” The word comes out like a curse. “You’re Valdorian.”
“Princess Tamsin of Valdoria.” I hold his gaze even as my legs threaten to give out. “Sister to Morrigan the Betrayer. And yes, before you ask—I know what she did to your family. I know you have every reason to kill me where I stand.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in the air between us. Magic, maybe. Or fury so cold, it feels like ice against my skin.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because the Shadow Clan destroyed my kingdom three days ago.” I reach into my cloak and pull out the Relic—the Dominion Crown, pulsing with barely contained power despite my wards.
“Because King Ulrik is coming for this. Because my sister allied with him years ago, and now he has an army, a vendetta, and nothing left to lose.”
I hold the Crown out toward him, my hands trembling with exhaustion.
“I’m the only one who can keep this sealed. The only one who can stop Ulrik from using it to destroy everything.” My voice cracks, but I force myself to continue. “I’m not asking you to forgive what my sister did. I’m asking you to help me stop her—and the king she serves—before it’s too late.”
Auren stares at me. At the Crown. At the blood seeping through my bandages and the desperation I can no longer hide.
“You expect me to trust a witch.” His voice is flat, emotionless. “The sister of the woman who murdered my blood.”
“No.” My legs finally give out. I drop to my knees on the cold stone, the Crown clutched against my chest, the last of my strength draining away. “I expect you to use me. To hate me. To make me pay for every sin my bloodline has committed against yours.”
I look up at him—this golden dragon who has every reason to want me dead—and speak the truth I’ve been carrying since my kingdom fell.
“But I also expect you to be smart enough to know that your revenge means nothing if Ulrik wins. So hate me all you want, Auren Valek.” I manage something that might be a smile. “Just hate me while we’re saving the world.”
The last thing I see before darkness claims me is his face—cold, furious, and utterly unreadable.
The last thing I feel is arms catching me before I hit the ground.
Auren and Tamsin’s story continues in Book 4...