Elara's POV
Cold stone pressed against my cheek.
I opened my eyes slowly, confused. Everything was dark and smelled like mold and old blood. My head throbbed where someone had hit me. The celebration—it came back in flashes. Cassian's cold smile. Seraphine's papers. My father's face full of hate.
"No," I whispered to the darkness. "Please let it be a dream."
But the heavy chains on my wrists were real. The cold dungeon floor was real. The pain in my chest—that was the most real thing of all.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside my cell. I pushed myself up, wincing as every muscle screamed. Through the small barred window in my door, I saw torchlight getting closer.
"She's awake," a guard's rough voice said.
The door crashed open. Three guards entered, and behind them came the last person I ever wanted to see again.
Seraphine.
My stepsister looked perfect even in the dim dungeon light. She wore a new dress—deep red like blood. On her head sat a small crown. My mother's crown. The one that should have been mine.
"Hello, sister," she said sweetly. "How are you feeling?"
I lunged at her. The chains stopped me after two steps, yanking me back so hard I fell. The guards laughed.
"I'll kill you!" The words ripped out of my throat. "You lying, scheming—"
"Now, now," Seraphine interrupted, examining her perfect nails. "That's not very princess-like. Oh wait—you're not a princess anymore, are you?" She smiled. "I am."
"Why?" My voice broke. "Why would you do this? I loved you. I trusted you!"
"I know." Seraphine crouched down to my level, her smile never fading. "That's what made it so easy. You were always too trusting, Elara. Too kind. Too weak."
"I was your sister!"
"You were in my way." She stood up, brushing imaginary dust from her dress. "Did you really think I'd let you become queen? You, with your stupid reforms to help the poor? Your plans to share magic with common people? You would have destroyed everything our family built."
"Our family built their power on lies!" I spat. "On stolen dragon magic and blood!"
Seraphine's eyes went cold. "How do you know about that?"
I didn't know where the words came from. They just appeared in my mind, like someone else was speaking through me. "I know the royal family imprisoned dragons to steal their power. I know everything is built on their bones."
For the first time, Seraphine looked uncertain. Even scared. "Impossible. You couldn't know that unless—" She stopped, studying my face. "Unless you have dragon blood in you."
She grabbed my arm roughly, pushing up my sleeve. There, just below my shoulder, was a mark I'd never seen before. It looked like scales—silver and shimmering even in the dark cell.
When did that appear?
"No," Seraphine breathed. "You're dragon-touched. How?" She released me and backed toward the door. "It doesn't matter. You'll be dead soon anyway."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your execution is in three days." Seraphine's smile returned, sharper than before. "Father decreed it. You'll be chained to the Obsidian Gate where the World-Breaker dragon sleeps. Your blood will feed his prison while you burn alive. It's the death all traitors deserve."
Ice filled my veins. "The dragon's prison? But no one survives that."
"Exactly." Seraphine turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, I almost forgot. Cassian wanted me to give you a message."
My heart, already broken, somehow broke more. "What message?"
"He said he never loved you. Not for one single day of your three years together." Her words were knives, each one finding its target. "He said kissing you was like kissing a dead fish. He said Seraphine is better in every way—smarter, prettier, more exciting in bed."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The world spun.
"He said," Seraphine continued, "that pretending to love you was the hardest thing he ever had to do. But it was worth it to see the look on your face when everything fell apart."
She laughed—a bright, cheerful sound that didn't match the cruelty in her eyes. "Sleep well, sister. You only have three more nights left."
The door slammed shut. The torchlight faded. I was alone in the darkness again.
For a long time, I just sat there. Numb. Empty. Everything I believed was a lie. Everyone I loved had betrayed me.
Then something hot and angry started growing in my chest. It pushed past the hurt and the fear until it was all I could feel.
Rage.
Pure, burning rage.
"I won't die," I whispered to the empty cell. "I won't give them the satisfaction."
The mark on my arm started to glow—just a little, like dying embers. It felt warm. Alive.
What did Seraphine mean about dragon blood? Why did I suddenly know things I shouldn't? And why did this mark appear now?
Heavy footsteps approached my cell again. Different from before—these were careful, quiet. The door opened a crack.
"Princess?" a familiar voice whispered.
"Zara?" I scrambled to my feet. "What are you doing here?"
My old handmaiden slipped inside, moving fast for her age. She carried a small bag. "I don't have much time before the guards return. Listen carefully—everything I'm about to tell you will sound crazy."
"Crazier than being framed for treason by my own family?"
"Much crazier." Zara grabbed my shoulders, her eyes intense. "Your mother—your real mother—wasn't just a queen. She was a Dragon-Speaker. Do you know what that means?"
I shook my head.
"It means she could talk to dragons. Bond with them. Command them." Zara's hands trembled. "The royal family killed her because they were afraid. Afraid she'd free the imprisoned dragons and expose their lies. They made it look like an illness, but I was there. I saw the poison."
The dungeon felt too small suddenly. Too cold. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because you have her gift. That mark on your arm proves it." Zara pressed the small bag into my hands. "You're being sent to the dragon's prison in three days. But here's what they don't know—Dragon-Speakers can't be killed by dragon fire. You might actually survive."
"Might?" My voice cracked on the word.
"Your mother never got to test it. They killed her before she could free any dragons." Zara's eyes filled with tears. "But you—you still have a chance. The World-Breaker isn't what the legends say. He's not a monster. He's a prisoner, just like you."
"You want me to free a dragon that almost destroyed the world?"
"I want you to free yourself." Zara hugged me tight. "That dragon has been tortured for three hundred years because he refused to let humans steal his family's magic. He's not your enemy, child. Your enemy is already on the throne."
She pulled back and pressed something small and sharp into my palm. A piece of broken glass.
"Hide this. When they chain you to that gate, use it to cut deep. Your blood is the key—not to strengthen the prison, but to break it." She moved toward the door. "Free him, and he might just return the favor."
"Wait!" I called. "What if you're wrong? What if he kills me?"
Zara looked back, her wrinkled face sad but determined. "Then at least you'll die free, not as their puppet. Which would you prefer?"
Before I could answer, voices shouted in the hallway. Guards were coming.
"I have to go," Zara whispered urgently. "Remember—trust the dragon more than you trust your family. That's my final advice."
She disappeared into the shadows just as guards burst in.
"Who were you talking to?" one demanded, looking around suspiciously.
"Myself," I said, hiding the glass in my closed fist. "That's what crazy traitors do, right?"
They searched the cell but found nothing. Finally, they left, locking the door behind them.
I sat in the darkness, feeling the sharp glass press against my palm. Blood from a small cut dripped between my fingers.
The mark on my arm glowed brighter.
Somewhere far away—miles and miles away, past the city walls and deep in the mountains—something ancient opened its eyes for the first time in centuries.
And it was hungry.