Third person point of view
The Dragon King had ruled for four centuries. His people called him beautiful beyond words, broad-shouldered, bronze-skinned, his eyes so deep they seemed to read the soul itself. His voice could soothe rage, still storms, inspire loyalty. Yet, for all his wisdom, he bore a single flaw: he trusted too easily. He was blind to betrayal when it came in the shape of love.
Tonight, the Jade Spire waited for him, hushed and trembling. The wedding chamber blazed red and gold, lanterns swaying above marble pillars. Beyond the arched windows, the city glittered on the bay, a thousand eyes watching, a thousand hearts expecting celebration.
At the altar, the Dragon King stood in ceremonial armor. The breastplate fit poorly over his scholar's frame, but he wore it without complaint. His trembling fingers laced as if holding a prayer. His gaze never left his bride.
Mira stood unveiled. Dark as river stone in lamplight, simple in her gown, black pendant resting low on her chest. She should have looked meek against the grandeur of the chamber, but her presence cut like steel. The First Empress sat three steps below, her face tight, as though she sensed danger she dared not name.
They spoke the vows. The chamber held its breath. The Dragon King's lips curved with quiet faith, the faith that love could never harm him.
Mira's hand lifted to the pendant. The chain trembled. Metal unfolded like a serpent's fang, the dagger sleek and black. Before the court could gasp, she drove it into his chest. The ill-fitting breastplate split like parchment. Golden blood sprayed across the marble, hissing where it fell. His eyes widened, not in fear, but in disbelief.
For a heartbeat, he searched her face, desperate for an explanation, a mistake, some mercy in her eyes. None came.
She twisted the blade. Blood sprayed, splattering the First Vizier, who collapsed as though struck himself. Nobles froze, unable to move. Guards raised weapons, but the ancient law forbade them from shedding royal blood, for to strike the crown was to defy the gods. The chamber remained paralyzed. Mira leaned close, whispering words only he could hear: "You received a warning. You never listened."
Pain roared through him, but sharper was the shattering of trust. His breath caught; his lips formed her name, silent. Then rage boiled in his chest. With a roar that cracked the ceiling, his body transformed.
The Dragon King unfurled into his true self: a dragon of molten bronze, wings stretching to the pillars, eyes blazing. He was terrible and divine, and yet still heartbreakingly human beneath the scales.
Mira did not flinch. Her dagger pulsed with black fire, guided by a promise whispered long ago by a witch doctor: Bring me the heart of the Dragon King, and you will be the most powerful of all. Steel met scale. Flames erupted blue, red, violet. Marble cracked and smoked beneath his blood. Shards of bone and bronze rained like meteors; a wing tore through stained glass and tumbled into the bay. The city screamed below as fire rained from the Spire, consuming streets and families alike.
The Dragon King staggered, his eyes still fixed on Mira, not with hatred, but with the wounded plea of a man betrayed by the only love he believed in. At last, his body faltered. He collapsed upon the altar, scales splitting, breath ragged. Mira wrenched the dagger free. Veins that had darkened her skin faded to ash as the weapon clattered into the basin. Nobles remained on their knees, unable to rise. The Empress clung to her throne; horror etched into her silence.
The Dragon King's roar rose one last time. His chest cracked open with light. With the last of his strength, he cast his golden heart into the unseen world. It vanished in a storm of fire and wind, carried beyond sight, beyond reach.
Mira's smile faltered. Her eyes widened in fury. The very prize she had betrayed him for, the heart that would have crowned her the highest witch in history, was gone.
Wind howled through shattered windows. Shards scattered like stars. The chamber stank of smoke and blood. Mira turned, stepping through the ruin as if through a garden, her smile returning, cold and unapologetic.
At the threshold, she paused, glancing back once at the ruin of the king. "He never saw it coming," she said. Her footsteps echoed into silence. The city burned. The court remained paralyzed. Far beyond the palace walls, the Dragon King's heart still beat.