Elara's POV
The Council lights are getting closer.
"We need to leave. NOW." The dragon-man—Azrathion, I remember him saying—grabs my arm.
"I can't run!" My legs are shaking. My whole body is shaking. The silver fire inside me is getting hotter, pressing against my skin like it wants to tear me apart. "I can barely stand!"
"Then I'll carry you."
"You will NOT—"
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing. One arm under my knees, one behind my back. I'm pressed against his chest and he's so warm it's almost painful.
"Put me down!" I push at his shoulders but it's like pushing stone. "I'm not some helpless—"
"You're burning alive from the inside," he interrupts. His golden eyes meet mine. "I can feel it through the bond. Your magic is eating you. So stop fighting me and let me save your stubborn life."
The mark on my chest pulses hot. I gasp. He's right—I can feel him too. Feel his determination. His anger. His... concern?
"Why do you care if I live or die?" I ask. "You just met me."
His jaw tightens. "Because three hundred years ago, I watched Lysandra die in my arms. I won't watch it happen again."
"I'm not her!"
"I know." Something painful flashes across his face. "But you're bound to me now. Your death means my death. So like it or not, little flame, we're stuck with each other."
The Council lights are close enough now that I can hear voices. Angry voices. Scared voices.
"The Dragonspire collapsed!"
"The seal is broken!"
"Find whoever did this!"
Azrathion's arms tighten around me. "Hold on."
"Hold on to what—"
He launches into the air and I scream.
Wings. He has wings again. Massive black wings that appeared from nowhere, beating hard against the night air. We're flying. Actually FLYING.
I bury my face in his chest because looking down makes me want to throw up. The ground gets smaller and smaller. The Council guards look like ants.
"How are you doing this?" I gasp. "You're in human form!"
"I'm never fully human." His voice rumbles through his chest into my ear. "The dragon is always there, little flame. Always."
We fly for what feels like hours but is probably minutes. The Scorched Wastes blur beneath us. Finally, he descends toward a crack in the earth—a canyon so deep I can't see the bottom.
He lands inside a cave halfway down the canyon wall. Sets me gently on the ground.
My legs give out immediately.
"Easy." He catches me again. "Your body is adjusting. The awakening takes a toll."
"Adjusting to what?" I'm panting. Everything hurts. The mark on my chest burns like someone's holding a torch to it.
"To being what you were always meant to be." He guides me to sit against the cave wall. "Rest. We're safe here for now."
"Safe?" I laugh, and it sounds slightly hysterical. "I'm trapped in a cave with a dragon who says I belong to him! Nothing about this is safe!"
"You're bound to the most powerful being in this realm." He sits across from me, those golden eyes never leaving my face. "You're safer than you've ever been in your life."
"You're also the most arrogant being I've ever met!"
He smiles. Actually smiles. "I've had three hundred years to perfect it."
Despite everything, I almost smile back. Almost.
Then the pain hits.
It feels like my blood is boiling. Like my bones are breaking and reforming. Like every cell in my body is on fire. Silver flames erupt from my hands and I scream.
Azrathion is on me in an instant. "Don't fight it! Let the magic flow!"
"It HURTS!"
"I know!" He grabs my hands, and his magic rises to meet mine. Black flames twining with silver flames. The soul-bond flares between us and suddenly I can feel everything he feels—his fear, his desperation, his absolute determination not to lose me.
"Why?" I gasp through the pain. "Why do you care so much?"
His face is inches from mine. "Because when they murdered Lysandra, they ripped out half my soul. For three hundred years, I've been empty. Broken. Then you touched those chains and I felt whole again. I will NOT lose that. I will not lose YOU."
"But I'm not—"
"You're not Lysandra. I know." His hands tighten on mine. "You're Elara. You're sharp-tongued and stubborn and absolutely terrified but trying not to show it. You're brave enough to yell at a dragon. You survived your family's betrayal. You survived starvation. You survived being chained to a tower as a sacrifice. And now you're going to survive this."
The way he says it—like it's a fact, like there's no other option—makes something shift inside me.
The magic stops fighting me and starts... listening.
The flames dim. The pain fades to a manageable burn.
Azrathion releases my hands slowly. "Better?"
"Better," I whisper. "How did you do that?"
"I didn't. You did." He sits back. "You just needed to stop seeing your magic as an enemy."
I look at my hands. They're still glowing faintly, but it doesn't hurt anymore. It feels... right.
"What am I?" I ask quietly. "Really? What's a Dragonheart?"
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Three hundred years ago, dragons and humans lived in balance. Dragonhearts were born with the ability to bond with dragons—to share power, to bridge the gap between species. Lysandra was the Dragon Queen. She bonded with me and together we ruled both peoples."
"What happened?"
His face goes dark. "The Mage Council happened. They wanted dragon power without sharing authority. So they orchestrated a massacre. Murdered Lysandra. Used her stolen Dragonheart magic to imprison me and every other dragon they could find. Then they built their entire society on our stolen essence."
Horror crawls up my spine. "They're still doing it? Still imprisoning dragons?"
"Dozens of them. Beneath the Capitol. Chained. Tortured. Drained of their magic day after day." His voice shakes with rage. "And you, little flame, are the only one who can free them."
"Me? But I can barely control my own magic!"
"Which is why I'm going to train you." He stands, offering his hand. "Starting now."
I stare at his hand. Taking it means accepting this. Accepting him. Accepting that my entire life was a lie and I'm somehow supposed to save enslaved dragons from the most powerful organization in the realm.
"What if I can't do it?" I whisper. "What if I'm not strong enough?"
"You freed me from a seal that held me for three centuries." He keeps his hand extended. "You're strong enough."
I take his hand.
The soul-bond pulses warm between us. Not painful anymore. Just... present. Connecting us.
He pulls me to my feet and suddenly we're very close. Close enough that I can see gold flecks in his eyes. Close enough to feel his breath.
"Your sister wanted you to die," he says softly. "Your family threw you away. The Council used you as a sacrifice. They all saw you as weak. Worthless. Nothing."
Each word cuts because it's true.
"But I see what you really are," he continues. "I see the rage burning behind your fear. I see the strength you don't know you have yet. I see power that will shake the foundations of this world."
His hand comes up to cup my face. His thumb brushes my cheek.
"They called you weak, little flame. Let's prove them wrong."
Something fierce and hot ignites in my chest. Not the wild magic. Something else. Something that feels like purpose.
"Teach me," I say. "Teach me everything."
He smiles—a real smile this time, not the predatory one. "That's my girl."
"I'm not—"
The cave entrance explodes.
Rock and dust fly everywhere. I scream. Azrathion shoves me behind him, his wings erupting from his back.
Through the smoke, a figure walks in. A woman in white robes embroidered with lightning.
A woman I know.
A woman who looks exactly like me but more beautiful. More powerful. More everything.
"Hello, little sister," Celestine says. Her voice is sweet poison. Lightning dances around her hands. "Did you really think you could escape that easily?"
Behind her, a dozen Council mages fill the cave entrance. All of them staring at me. At Azrathion.
At the dragon they thought was safely sealed forever.
"The Council sends their regards," Celestine continues. Her smile is vicious. "They're very interested in studying how you broke the seal. They think if they cut you open, they can figure out how the Dragonheart works."
"Touch her," Azrathion says, his voice dropping to something deadly, "and I'll burn your entire Council to ash."
Celestine's eyes shift to him. Then widen. Then fill with something that looks like hunger.
"A dragon," she breathes. "A real dragon. Father will promote me to the High Circle for this."
She raises her hands and lightning explodes toward us.
Azrathion roars and black flames meet the lightning in mid-air.
"RUN!" he shouts at me.
But there's nowhere to run. We're trapped.
And my sister—my own blood—is going to kill us both.