I did not look back when I left her.
The stone door sealed with a low, final sound—earth knitting itself shut with the patience of something that had done this countless times before. The holding chamber vanished behind me, swallowed whole, as if it had never existed.
As if she had never existed.
Good.
The corridor beyond stretched long and narrow, carved directly from the earth's spine. Smooth walls. No ornamentation. The Earth Kingdom favored efficiency over intimidation—though they achieved both regardless.
Princess Willow waited just beyond the threshold.
She stood with her back straight, hands clasped behind her, eyes fixed on the stone floor rather than on me. Dutiful. Controlled. Too controlled for someone her age.
She didn't ask how the interrogation went.
She didn't need to.
The earth beneath our feet shifted as I stepped forward, reacting to my presence with a faint, involuntary tremor. Lightning flickered under my skin—too sharp, too quick—snapping once against the stone wall beside me.
The scorch mark it left irritated me.
I flexed my fingers, forcing the power to settle. It obeyed, but sluggishly, like a hound that had tasted blood and wanted more.
Unacceptable.
We began walking.
The corridor sloped upward, spiraling slowly toward the palace above. Torches ignited as we passed, one by one, their flames burning steady and smokeless—fed by controlled vents in the stone.
Order.
That was what this place represented.
And yet—
My lightning sparked again, faint but persistent, crawling along my forearm before I shoved it back down.
I clenched my jaw.
Control should not slip.
You allowed her to speak too long, Mortimer murmured, his voice threading through the back of my skull like oil poured into water.
I did not slow.
"I extracted what I needed."
A pause.
Then—amusement.
You almost remembered.
The words struck harder than I expected.
I stopped walking.
Willow halted as well, turning just enough to glance at me from the corner of her eye. Her expression was carefully neutral, but I felt the earth beneath us crack slightly from the tension—responding not to my power, but to hers.
She sensed it.
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
"Stay out of my head," I said quietly.
Mortimer's presence receded, unbothered.
You invited me inside.
A lie.
I resumed walking.
The corridor narrowed briefly, forcing us closer together. I was acutely aware of Willow's proximity—not as a threat, but as a variable. She moved with discipline, but there was something rigid about her posture, like stone under strain.
You should have killed her, Mortimer added, almost idly.
"No."
The word came out sharper than intended.
Willow's footsteps faltered for half a beat.
I corrected my tone. "She serves a purpose."
Does she? Mortimer asked
Silence followed.
Not peace.
Just waiting.
The farther we walked, the more aware I became of the static beneath my skin. It didn't hurt. It didn't burn.
It itched.
Like something unfinished.
I hated unfinished things.
The corridor curved again, revealing a wider chamber where stone columns rose like ribs from the floor. This was a junction point—multiple passages branching outward, some leading deeper into the kingdom, others up toward the palace proper.
Willow stopped here.
She turned to face me fully for the first time.
Her eyes were sharp.
And wary.
"The earth reacted strangely back there," she said.
Not an accusation.
An observation.
I studied her for a moment.
Then I replied, "Earth is known to react to power."
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"Yes," she said. "It does."
She did not press further.
But the earth beneath us shifted again—subtle, barely perceptible.
She was listening.
I dismissed her with a tilt of my head.
"Find soldiers to guard the Primal dragon."
She hesitated.
Only for a breath.
Then she bowed and stepped away, the stone parting smoothly to allow her passage before sealing behind her.
I was alone.
Good.
I continued upward.
The farther I climbed, the more memories surfaced unbidden—not images, not scenes—but sensations.
A word that did not belong to me anymore.
A sound.
Soft.
Familiar.
I ground my teeth and forced the thought down.
Memory is inefficiency.
Attachment is liability.
Whatever she was to me before—whatever that girl represented—it no longer mattered.
And yet—
My lightning flickered again, tracing a jagged path along the ceiling before snapping back into me.
I slammed my palm against the stone wall, hard enough to crack it.
The power obeyed immediately, surging and then settling at last.
There.
Control restored.
I straightened, ran my hand through my hair, and resumed walking as if nothing had happened.
The palace entrance opened ahead of me—massive doors of layered jade and marble etched with sigils of conquest and lineage. Guards snapped to attention as I approached, eyes lowered, bodies rigid.
Fear was efficient.
The throne room awaited.
But even as I crossed the threshold, one final thought surfaced—unwanted, uninvited.
Not her face.
Not her words.
Just the certainty of absence.
Like something had been removed from me without permission.
I pushed the feeling aside.
She was dangerous.
Not because of her power.
Because she made me aware of something I no longer remembered losing.
And awareness—
Awareness was weakness.
I would not allow it again.
The throne room doors closed behind me.
The Earth Kingdom's throne room was a living example of what the Earth Kingdom valued most: strength.
It was carved straight from jade and marble—unpolished and unyielding. The chamber smelled of stone dust and iron—of permanence. Of things meant to last longer than mercy.
The Earth King sat upon it like a man who believed himself immovable, his lip twitching as I said my piece.
"You ask me to spare the Primal Dragon," he said, voice echoing against the vaulted ceiling. "To keep her alive within my borders."
I stood several paces below him, hands folded loosely behind my back. Still. Controlled.
"Yes."
Murmurs rippled through the advisors lining the chamber walls. I ignored them.
The Earth King leaned forward, heavy forearms resting on his knees. "You speak of leverage. Of bait. Of strategy."
He snorted.
"I hear only risk."
"She is more useful alive than dead," I replied evenly. "At least at the moment."
"And more dangerous," he shot back. "You mistake my caution for weakness, Lightning Prince."
A flicker of irritation sparked in my chest.
I crushed it.
"You fortify your borders against armies," I said. "Against dragons. And yet you fear one bound little girl."
"She is not a girl," he snapped. "She is a walking fracture in the world. She brings gods with her. Relics stir in her wake. Nations will burn because of her existence."
His gaze sharpened, pinning me.
"And you want her breathing in my kingdom?"
"Yes."
Silence fell.
The Earth King studied me the way generals study maps before sending men to die. Slowly. Thoroughly. With no intention of mercy.
"I do not agree," he said at last.
"You will agree," I corrected.
He barked a humorless laugh. "You wear your corruption well, Prince. But do not presume to command me."
I felt the shadows behind my ribs stir.
"I am not commanding," I said. "I am… advising."
"And I am refusing."
The word hit harder than I expected.
"I will not gamble my people on your obsession," the Earth King continued. "The Primal Dragon dies tonight."
The chamber went still.
"She will be executed quietly," he added. "No spectacle. No martyrdom. An accident in the tunnels, perhaps. The mountain collapses. Tragic."
My pulse spiked.
I kept my face neutral.
"That would be… inefficient," I said.
"Efficiency," he scoffed. "I choose certainty."
I inclined my head slightly. Respectful. Controlled.
"And I took you for a smart king," I said calmly. "Now I see I was mistaken."
His face flushed purple with rage.
He surged to his feet, sword scraping free of its sheath as he stepped forward.
I didn't move.
The shadows did.
They exploded outward, slamming him back into his throne with crushing force. Stone cracked beneath the impact as my lightning threaded through the darkness—slow, deliberate, hungry.
It stopped just shy of his throat.
Close enough that I could hear his breath hitch.
Close enough that he could feel death waiting.
His body shook.
Pathetic.
"You will not lay a hand on the Primal Dragon," I said quietly. "If you do, prepare for our deal to be revoked—and your kingdom, and its people, will join my army of the dead."
"V-very well," he stammered.
The Earth King slumped back into his throne, hands gripping the armrests as if they were the only thing holding him upright.
"You may leave the Primal Dragon in my kingdom for one week," he said tightly. "If she does not prove useful, she is eliminated."
"One week," I agreed.
The shadows withdrew. The lightning sank back beneath my skin.
The advisors exhaled in unison. The decision was made.
I turned and left the chamber without another word.
But beneath my skin—
My lightning trembled.
I was halfway down the outer corridor when the shadows whispered.
Not Mortimer.
Mine.
They slithered along the walls, through the carved stone, slipping into cracks too small for light or sound. They had learned the Earth Kingdom quickly. Learned fear even faster.
He lies...
My steps slowed.
Orders given. Not spoken aloud. Guards diverted. Executioners summoned…
My jaw clenched.
Tonight…
I stopped completely.
The corridor was empty. Torchlight flickered low, casting my shadow long and jagged across the stone floor. For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing.
Slow. Measured. Controlled.
The Earth King had agreed to nothing.
Planned everything.
Something hot and violent coiled in my chest.
Fear.
Not for her.
No.
Rage.
He had gone behind my back.
Assumed I'd be forgiven.
He is a stupid king indeed.
"Interesting," I murmured.
You told him she was useful, Mortimer said smoothly, surfacing at last. He chose safety instead.
"Safety," I repeated softly.
The shadows around my feet thickened, stretching, curling like smoke tasting blood.
This displeases you.
"Yes."
Then let him die, Mortimer suggested lightly. We have no need of him.
Not yet.
Killing him would be simple.
Too simple.
And it would cost me the Earth Kingdom outright.
I resumed walking, boots echoing softly.
"No," I said. "If he wants to play games…"
I smiled.
"…then we play properly."
What do you intend to do?
"I intend to correct him."
The shadows shifted, pleased.
And how will you do that?
"That is none of your business."
You care for the girl…
"No."
The word came sharper than intended.
"She is an asset," I continued. "And the Earth King does not dispose of my assets without consequence."
You will risk the alliance…
"Who says they will ever know it was me?"
Whatever you plan, the Primal Dragon cannot fall out of our hands…
"She will not."
Because I would not let her.
Because if she did—
I did not finish the thought.
The corridor split ahead.
One path led back toward my chambers.
The other descended into the lower tunnels.
Toward the holding chambers.
Toward her.
Lightning hummed under my skin.
"The Earth King will learn what happens when he underestimates me," I said as I chose my path.
I stepped into the darkness, shadow swallowing me whole.
The mountain groaned softly around me.
Now the games have begun, and I don't like to lose.