The wind howled through the obsidian arches of the palace, echoing like a chorus of lost souls. A storm brewed beyond the mountains, but inside the dragon king's stronghold, another storm—mine—was reaching its peak.
Sereth stood before me, silver tattoos aglow with runes I now understood.
"You've mastered the basics," she said. "But today, you will be tested."
I wiped sweat from my brow. "Tested how?"
She turned toward the chamber doors.
"By him."
The doors groaned open, and Vaerion stepped through.
His presence was a blow to the senses. He wore black armor streaked with crimson, molded to his chest like a second skin. His wings flared, catching the candlelight. But it was his eyes—molten gold, ancient and endless—that caught me. Consumed me.
He said nothing, only raised a hand.
The room shifted.
Fire erupted from the walls, forming a perfect circle around us. The floor beneath my feet rumbled, runes lighting in concentric rings.
"What is this?" I asked.
Sereth's voice echoed from outside the flame. "This is the Trial of Flame. The fire will answer your strength—or devour your weakness."
My heart thundered.
Vaerion stepped forward, power radiating from him in waves.
"Defend yourself," he said simply.
Then he struck.
I barely blocked the arc of heat that shot from his palm. I called my fire instinctively, forming a shield that shimmered gold against the red of his flames.
"You hesitate," he said, circling. "Hesitation is death."
Another blast came, and I ducked, rolled, retaliated. My flame was faster this time, sharper. It sang through the air, hitting his side—and he smiled.
"Good."
My legs trembled from exertion, but something deeper stirred—something wild.
He came at me again, and I met him blow for blow. Sparks erupted in a shower of gold and crimson. The room pulsed with our power, until at last, I stumbled.
My knees hit the floor. My fire flickered.
But instead of finishing it, Vaerion approached me slowly, lowering to one knee.
"You are not meant to fight like prey," he said, cupping my face. "You are meant to claim."
He placed my hand against his chest—directly over his heart.
"Take it," he whispered. "If you're strong enough."
I felt the heat of his soul there. The flame of a god, ancient and untamed. My own fire surged in response. It didn't want to retreat. It wanted him.
I pressed my palm against his chest harder—and fire merged.
A golden blaze erupted between us, spiraling into the air like a phoenix. My hair lifted with the force of it, eyes wide as fire flowed from me into him—and back again. It wasn't pain. It wasn't just pleasure.
It was power.
When it faded, we were both panting. He looked at me as if I had remade the world.
"You passed," he said.
But something deeper passed between us in that moment. Not just heat. Not just lust.
Recognition.
The bond had changed.