The sky did not tear politely. It ripped. Clouds screamed apart as something vast forced its way through them, the sound not thunder but pressure as if the heavens themselves were being bent around a will older than fear. The forest bowed. Trees cracked. Men fell to their knees clutching bleeding ears. Elowen felt it first in her bones. Not terror. Recognition.
"This….." Her breath stuttered. "This isn't witchfire."
"No," Seris said.
The ground vanished beneath them. Elowen screamed as gravity betrayed her, as the forest dropped away in a rush of black and green. She clutched Seris instinctively, fingers digging into her cloak, heart slamming so hard she thought it might break free of her ribs. Wind tore at them. Then Something caught them. Not hands. Not magic. Scales. Warm. Solid. Alive.
Elowen's scream strangled into silence as she realized they were no longer falling. They were rising. She opened her eyes. A vast golden-black head turned slightly, one enormous eye regarding her with ancient curiosity. Its pupil was not round but slit, vertical, intelligent beyond any beast. A dragon. No. The dragon.
Its wings stretched wider than castles, each beat bending the air itself. Below them, Ravenspire's hunters scattered like insects, their horns silenced by terror, their torches snuffed out by the downdraft of impossible power. Elowen's hands trembled violently.
"They said you were myths," she whispered.
"They say a lot of things," Seris replied.
She stood steady against the dragon's neck ridge, one hand resting flat against its scales not gripping, not commanding. Simply there. As if she belonged. The dragon rumbled, deep and resonant. Aethyrix does not like being stared at, the voice echoed inside Elowen's skull. She gasped.
Seris glanced at her. "You can hear him?"
Elowen nodded weakly. "That's… not normal, is it?"
"No," Seris said. "It isn't." The dragon banked sharply, wings slicing through mist as they rose above the forest canopy. Far below, the Blackwood Expanse shrank into shadow.
Elowen swallowed hard. "You're the Aurelian Empress." Seris didn't deny it.
"You're supposed to be weak," Elowen said, half hysterical. "Sickly. Afraid. Barely holding the empire together." Seris' lips curved not into a smile, but something sharper.
"And you're supposed to be chained and broken by now," she replied. "Seems we both disappoint expectations." The dragon roared. The sound rolled across the land like judgment. They landed at dusk. Not at Valecrown. Not yet.
The mountains opened beneath them, stone folding back like a secret remembering itself. The dragon descended into shadow, into warmth, into a cavern lit by veins of glowing gold etched through the rock. Elowen slid from Aethyrix's neck on unsteady legs. Her knees nearly gave out. She would have fallen if Seris hadn't caught her. The contact was brief too brief but Elowen felt it anyway. A current. A pull. Something dangerous and undeniable. She stepped back immediately.
"This place," Elowen said, voice echoing. "No map shows this."
"No map can," Seris replied. "It doesn't exist unless I allow it to." The cavern stirred. Other shapes shifted in the half-light.
Elowen froze.
"Seris," she said slowly, "how many of them are there?" Ten eyes opened. Ten. Each different. Each terrible. Each beautiful.
Ten dragons, vast and ancient, coiled around pillars of stone and fire, mist and shadow. Some watched silently. Some studied her with open interest. One smiled actually smiled. Elowen's knees hit the ground this time.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh gods." Witch, Virexa purred. You smell like defiance. Selphira lowered her head slightly, moonlight gleaming off her scales. She is frightened, she murmured gently.
As she should be, Pyralis growled. All mortals should be. Seris stepped forward, her presence shifting subtly not louder, but heavier. The dragons stilled instantly.
"Elowen Morrayne," Seris said formally, "welcome to the truth." Elowen laughed a broken, disbelieving sound. "You're the Queen of Dragons."
Seris inclined her head. "Among other things."
"You could burn the world."
"Yes."
"Why haven't you?" Seris met her gaze.
"Because burning is easy," she said. "Ruling is not."
Silence fell. Elowen rose slowly to her feet. Her hands shook but her eyes burned bright.
"You saved me," she said. "Why?" Seris did not answer immediately. When she did, her voice was quiet. Bare. Honest in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.
"Because if Ravenspire breaks you," she said, "they will learn they can break anyone." Elowen felt something twist painfully in her chest.
"And," Seris added, softer still, "because I know what it is to be crowned while everyone waits for you to fail." Elowen swallowed.
For the first time since her mother's death, since the chains, since the dungeon, she did not feel alone. Not safe but seen. Later, in a chamber carved into the heart of the mountain, Elowen stood at a stone basin washing dried blood from her arms. The water steamed faintly, warmed by dragonfire far below.
Seris leaned against the doorway, watching without comment.
"You're staring," Elowen said.
"Yes."
"Planning how to use me?"
Seris' gaze sharpened. "Would you believe me if I said no?"
Elowen hesitated. "I don't know."
"That's fair," Seris said. She stepped closer, close enough that Elowen could feel her warmth, the steady calm beneath the power.
"I won't force you," Seris said. "But understand this Ravenspire will not stop. Your stepmother will push until war breaks."
"And you?" Elowen asked.
"I will respond."
"How?"
Seris smiled thinly. "With diplomacy. Lies. And if necessary..."
A distant roar shook the chamber.
"….truth."
Elowen turned fully toward her. "If I stay," she said, "I become your enemy's excuse."
Seris' eyes darkened. "If you leave, you become their weapon." Their gazes locked. The tension between them was no longer just danger. It was gravity.
Elowen broke it first. "You're not what I expected."
Seris tilted her head. "Neither are you." Silence stretched.
Charged.
Elowen's voice dropped. "What happens now?" Seris took a slow breath.
"Now," she said, "you sleep. You heal. And tomorrow…." She paused.
"….you help me decide whether the world deserves mercy."
Elowen laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're terrifying."
Seris' lips curved, just barely.
"So I'm told." Their eyes lingered a heartbeat too long.
Outside the chamber, Nyxavor watched from the shadows, ancient and amused. Careful, little queen, the dragon murmured. She will ruin you. Seris closed her eyes briefly. I know, she answered. And somewhere between stone and fire, crowns and chains, something far more dangerous than war began to take shape.
Morning in the mountain did not arrive with sunlight. It came with warmth. Elowen woke to the low, steady hum of something vast breathing beneath the stone. The air smelled faintly of ash and rain. Gold-veined rock arched overhead like the ribs of the earth itself. For one heart-stopping moment, she forgot where she was. Then memory returned chains shattering, wings in the sky, eyes of ancient fire. Dragons.
She sat up too quickly and hissed as pain flared along her ribs. Someone had wrapped her torso in clean linen. Her burned arm was salved, the skin pink and healing far too fast to be natural.
"Selphira," Elowen murmured. A soft sound answered her approval, perhaps. She swung her legs over the edge of the stone bed and stood. The floor was warm beneath her feet, alive in a way she could feel through bone and blood.
She was not alone. Seris stood near the cavern's edge, hands clasped behind her back, staring down into the glowing depths below. She wore no crown, no silk just dark leather and steel-threaded cloth. Her hair was loose, silver-black cascading down her spine.
She looked… younger. And infinitely more dangerous.
"You should still be resting," Seris said without turning.
"You drugged me," Elowen replied. "Dragon magic."
Seris glanced over her shoulder, one brow lifting. "You noticed."
"I'm a witch, not an idiot." Seris faced her fully now. Her eyes were steel-gray again, the gold hidden, controlled.
"Good," she said. "I prefer allies who can think."
Elowen crossed her arms. "You didn't deny it."
"No." Silence stretched.
Then Elowen asked the question burning at her throat. "What are you planning to do with me?" Seris did not answer immediately. She gestured toward a stone table where a map was carved directly into the rock rivers etched in silver, borders cut deep, kingdoms marked with sigils of power.
Ravenspire was circled in red.
"Today," Seris said, "my council will demand your return."
Elowen's jaw tightened. "And you'll refuse."
"Yes."
"And that means…."
"Threats. Sanctions. Troop movements disguised as 'defensive measures.'" Seris's voice was calm, almost bored. "Your stepmother wants to see how far I'll bend."
Elowen scoffed. "She'll push until someone bleeds."
Seris's gaze flicked to her. "She already has." Elowen stilled.
"My parents were assassinated," Seris continued quietly. "The nobles who funded it still walk my halls and smile at me." Elowen felt something cold settle in her chest.
"That's why you pretend," she said slowly. "Why you let them underestimate you."
"Yes."
"And one day," Elowen said, eyes sharp, "you won't."
Seris smiled faintly. "No." Valecrown Palace buzzed like a disturbed hive.
The High Council chamber filled with silk, steel, and carefully masked intent. Nobles took their seats beneath banners of conquest, their whispers sharp and eager. Duke Harrow of Thornfall arrived early. So did Lady Verayne of Lunareth. Both smiled at one another with perfect politeness. Both would sell the other's children for power.
"The Empress is late," someone muttered.
"She's unwell," another replied. A lie.
The doors opened. Seris entered slowly, supported by Lord Caelum, her posture delicate, her expression pale. Murmurs softened instantly. She sat.
"Speak," she said softly.
Duke Harrow rose. "Ravenspire demands the return of the witch Elowen Morrayne. They accuse your Radiance of interference in their sovereign affairs." Gasps. Outrage. Feigned shock.
Seris pressed a hand to her temple. "I… saved a girl from being hunted through imperial forestland."
"A witch," Harrow corrected. "A dangerous one."
Seris looked at him with sad eyes. "Is she?" Harrow hesitated.
Lady Verayne leaned forward. "If Ravenspire marches east, we risk open war."
Seris swallowed. "Then perhaps we should avoid provoking them." Caelum stiffened beside her. Seris raised a trembling hand.
"I will send a reply," she said. "I will… ask for time." The council relaxed. Too easily. Duke Harrow smiled. Exactly as Seris intended. High above Valecrown, unseen and unacknowledged, Auralis rode the wind. They believe her weak, the dragon laughed softly into Seris's mind. They always do, Seris replied. Back in the mountain, Elowen paced.
"I don't like this," she said. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Seris leaned against the stone wall, arms folded. "You are the dangerous game."
Elowen stopped short. "Excuse me?"
"You are leverage Ravenspire cannot afford to lose," Seris said. "A symbol they must control."
"And you?" Elowen challenged. "What am I to you?" Seris met her gaze.
"Proof," she said.
"Of what?"
"That the world does not get to decide who rules based on fear of women." Elowen's breath caught.
"That's a pretty sentiment," she said softly. "For an empress who could end this with fire." Seris stepped closer.
"Fire ends things," she said. "I want to change them." Their closeness was sudden. Intimate. Charged. Elowen could feel Seris's power contained, humming, dangerous as a drawn blade held steady between them.
"You shouldn't trust me," Elowen said.
Seris's lips curved faintly. "Neither should you trust me." A pause. Too long.
Elowen laughed quietly. "We're both idiots."
"Yes," Seris agreed. "But very well-armed ones." Their eyes lingered again. Something unspoken pressed against the space between them curiosity, admiration, a spark neither was ready to name. Then the cavern shook. Not gently. Not playfully. A deep, warning tremor.
Nyxavor's voice rolled through stone and bone alike. Queen, the dragon intoned, blood has crossed a border. Seris's expression hardened instantly.
"Which one?" she asked. Solryn, Nyxavor answered. A village burns. The banners are Ravenspire's. Elowen's face went white. Ysvelda, she thought. You're forcing my hand. Seris closed her eyes for a single breath. When she opened them, the softness was gone.
"War has begun," she said. Elowen met her gaze, witchfire flickering low and dangerous in her eyes.
"Then stop protecting me," Elowen said. "And let me help you end it." Seris studied her…really studied her.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Very well," she said. "But understand this." She stepped closer, voice dropping to a vow.
"If you stand beside me, Elowen Morrayne, the world will never forgive you." Elowen's smile was fierce and unafraid.
"It never has." Above them, the mountain roared , dragons stirring, destiny sharpening its teeth.
Solryn burned under a pitiless sun. Smoke rose in thick black columns from what had once been wheat fields and stone homes. The air tasted of ash and blood, of scorched earth and panic. Bells rang cracked, desperate until one by one they fell silent. Elowen stood at the edge of the ridge overlooking the village, fists clenched so tight her nails drew blood.
"That's Ravenspire's banner," she said hoarsely.
Crimson cloth snapped in the heat below, stitched with the crowned raven. Soldiers moved through the streets in disciplined lines, setting fires with practiced ease. This wasn't a raid. It was a message. Seris stood beside her, utterly still.
Her gaze swept the scene with cold precision counting troops, watching formations, measuring cruelty. No rage showed on her face. No grief. Only resolve.
"They crossed my border," Seris said quietly. "Deliberately."
Elowen turned on her. "They're slaughtering civilians."
"I know."
"Then why are we standing here?" Because this is the last moment before everything changes, Seris thought but did not say. Instead, she lifted her hand. The air thickened.
Far above the clouds twisted, not with storm but with weight. The dragons answered. The first scream came when the shadows moved wrong. A Ravenspire soldier looked up, squinting against the sun and dropped his torch. The sky darkened. Not gradually.
Instantly. A massive shape slid across the light, eclipsing the sun in a single, terrifying breath. Wind slammed into the village, ripping banners from walls, flinging men to the ground.
"What in the gods'…." The roar shattered glass.
Auralis descended like a blade of living wind, her wings slicing the air so sharply the ground split beneath her landing. Soldiers screamed as pressure alone hurled them aside. Then Pyralis struck. Fire fell from the sky not wild, not spreading but precise. Controlled. Ravenspire formations broke as flames burned banners, weapons, siege equipment never the villagers. Elowen stared in stunned silence.
"They're not attacking indiscriminately," she whispered.
"No," Seris replied. "They never do."
Bronthex landed next, the earth trembling violently beneath his bulk. Stone erupted as his roar cracked the ground open, swallowing Ravenspire supply wagons whole. Panic exploded. Men dropped swords and fled. Others fell to their knees, praying. Seris stepped forward. Her voice carried without effort.
"Leave," she commanded. The word rolled across the village like law itself.
"Leave now," she continued, "and tell Queen Ysvelda this: the next banner she raises on my land will burn with her name attached to it." Silence followed. Then a single soldier young, shaking dropped his weapon and ran. Others followed.
Within minutes, Ravenspire's force was gone, fleeing east in terror. The dragons rose, circling once before vanishing into cloud and sky as if they had never existed. The villagers stared. At Seris. At Elowen. At the impossible truth standing before them.
Seris turned to Elowen. "Help them."
Elowen blinked. "What?"
"They'll remember who stood with them," Seris said. "And who saved them."
Elowen swallowed hard, then nodded. She stepped into the village, witchfire blooming soft and green in her hands not destructive now, but healing. Burns cooled. Wounds closed. Smoke thinned. Whispers followed her. Witch. Protector.
Queen?
Seris watched her from the ridge. Nyxavor's voice slid through her mind. You are binding them together. I know, Seris answered. That night, they stood alone amid the ruins. Stars burned bright above the blackened fields. The villagers slept, exhausted but alive.
Elowen sat on a broken stone wall, staring at her hands. "I just helped my homeland's enemies."
"No," Seris said. "You helped innocent people."
Elowen looked up at her. "That distinction gets people killed."
Seris stepped closer. "It also changes history." They stood too near again. It was becoming a habit.
"You didn't hesitate," Elowen said quietly. "When you unleashed them."
Seris's eyes darkened. "I hesitated for sixteen years."
Elowen's voice softened. "And now?"
Seris exhaled slowly. "Now Ravenspire knows I am not a girl they can frighten."
"And me?" Elowen asked. "What do they know about me now?" Seris met her gaze.
"That you chose," she said. The word settled heavy between them.
Elowen looked away first, heart racing. "I don't know how this ends." Seris's mouth curved into something dangerously close to a smile.
"I do."
Elowen frowned. "And?" Seris leaned in close enough that Elowen felt her breath, steady and warm against her cheek.
"It ends with blood," Seris murmured. "And truth. And us standing on the wrong side of every law that ever existed."
Elowen laughed softly, shaken. "You're insane."
"Yes." Their eyes locked. The space between them hummed no magic, no power. Just want, Just danger and Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded. Not Ravenspire's. This one was deeper. Older. Seris straightened instantly.
"That's not mine," Elowen said.
"No," Seris replied, gaze sharpening toward the horizon. A banner rose beyond the hills black iron stitched with silver. Ironholt. Nyxavor's voice growled through the dark. Queen, the dragon warned. The third crown moves. Seris's jaw tightened.
"So," she said softly, deadly calm returning, "they've decided to join the war." Elowen stepped beside her, witchfire flickering low and ready.
"Good," she said. "I was starting to feel underused." The night swallowed their silhouettes as armies began to move. Ironholt did not announce war with words. It announced it with steel.
By dawn, scouts returned breathless, mud-streaked, eyes wide with the kind of fear only seasoned soldiers carried when they had seen something they could not unsee.
"They march in squares," one said hoarsely. "Perfect lines. No banners raised yet but their armor… gods, it's black iron. Siege engines already assembled."
Seris stood over the war table carved into Solryn's command tent, fingers resting lightly on the etched borders. The morning sun cast her shadow long and sharp across the map.
"Ironholt never moves without intent," Lord Caelum said grimly. "If they've crossed Noctyra's edge…."
"They intend to carve," Seris finished.
Elowen leaned against a tent pole, arms crossed, jaw tight. "They don't care about Ravenspire. This is about you."
"Yes," Seris agreed. "And what I revealed yesterday."
Caelum glanced at Elowen, then back to Seris. "Many saw the dragons."
"Enough," Seris said. "Not all."
"But rumors…."
"…..will spread faster than truth," Seris said calmly. "That is acceptable."
Elowen stared at her. "Acceptable? You just shattered the world's greatest lie."
Seris met her gaze evenly. "No. I reminded the world of something it chose to forget."
Ironholt's army appeared at noon. They crested the hills like a living wall rows of black iron shields, spears glinting, siege towers rolling forward with mechanical precision. No war cries. No chaos. Just inevitability.
Elowen's stomach twisted. "They're not afraid."
"No," Seris said quietly. "They've trained themselves not to be." She stepped forward, cloak snapping in the wind, and raised one hand. The battlefield stilled.
"I will speak," she said.
Caelum frowned. "Alone?"
"Yes."
Elowen caught her wrist. "Seris." Seris looked at her not as an empress now, not as a queen but as a girl who had learned too early what power cost.
"I need them to see me," Seris said softly. "Not the dragons."
Elowen hesitated, then released her. "Then don't die."
A corner of Seris's mouth lifted. "I'll try." She walked alone across the field. Ironholt's army did not move to stop her. When she stood within bowshot, a figure rode forward tall, broad-shouldered, armor etched with runes that drank the light. General Vorclan of Ironholt.
"You rule with monsters," he called. "That makes you one." Seris stopped.
"So does ruling with fear," she replied evenly.
Vorclan laughed. "We fear nothing."
Seris tilted her head slightly. "Then you've never met consequence." The general's smile faded.
"You trespass on my land," Seris said, voice carrying without strain. "Withdraw. Now."
"And if we refuse?"
Seris's gaze hardened not angry But cruel.
"Then I stop being merciful." For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Vorclan raised his hand. Ironholt's siege engines lurched forward. Seris closed her eyes. The ground screamed.
Not cracked screamed as Bronthex erupted from beneath the battlefield, stone and soil blasting skyward. Siege towers collapsed like toys. Soldiers flew screaming as the earth itself rejected them. Auralis followed, descending in a cyclone of razor wind that ripped shields from hands and hurled men across the plain. Ironholt's discipline broke. Not into panic but into fury. They charged. Elowen's blood sang.
"Seris!!!"
"I know," Seris said, eyes glowing gold now, power finally unmasked. She turned toward Elowen.
"Stay behind me."
Elowen laughed, fierce and bright. "Not a chance." Witchfire surged. Elowen leapt into the fray, green-gold flames wrapping her arms as she slammed into Ironholt's front line. Her magic did not burn flesh it bound it, freezing soldiers mid-strike, locking armor shut, forcing weapons from hands.
Seris moved like a force of nature. She did not shout commands. She decided outcomes. A raised hand and arrows froze midair, then fell harmlessly to the ground. A glance and a charging line collapsed under invisible weight. Ironholt's general roared and charged her directly. Elowen saw it too late.
"SERIS!!!" Steel met nothing.
Vorclan's blade shattered inches from Seris's throat, disintegrating into ash. The force of it sent him sprawling, armor cracking, ribs crushed by pressure alone. Seris stood over him, calm and terrible.
"You came for war," she said. "I offered restraint." She raised her hand.
Elowen felt it the shift, the edge where mercy ended and annihilation waited.
"Seris," Elowen said, breathless. "Enough." Seris hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. It was enough. She lowered her hand.
"Leave," Seris said to Vorclan. "Take your wounded solider . Tell your king that Astraeum is no longer undefended." Vorclan coughed blood, eyes burning with hatred and something else. Fear. Ironholt withdrew by dusk. The field was torn. Scorched. Silent. Night fell heavy.
Elowen stood alone near the edge of the camp, hands shaking now that the magic had faded. Blood hers and others'…stained her sleeves. Seris approached quietly.
"You shouldn't have stopped me," Seris said.
Elowen turned, eyes blazing. "You would have crossed a line you can't uncross."
Seris's voice dropped. "I crossed it when I was five."
Elowen stepped closer. "No. You survived it. There's a difference." They stood inches apart, tension crackling louder than any magic.
"You risked yourself," Seris said.
"So did you."
"You shouldn't care," Seris said softly. "It makes you vulnerable."
Elowen laughed bitterly. "Too late." Silence fell. Then Elowen reached out hesitant, deliberate and wiped a smear of blood from Seris's cheek with her thumb.
"You're still human," she whispered. "No matter how much the world wants you to be a monster." Seris closed her eyes briefly at the touch. When she opened them, something dangerous and unguarded burned there.
"Don't do that," she said quietly.
"Why?" Elowen asked.
"Because if you do," Seris murmured, voice barely steady, "I might stop pretending with you too." Their faces were so close now that breath mingled. Something heavier. Something inevitable.
A horn sounded in the distance urgent, sharp. Caelum's voice carried through the camp. "Your Radiance. A raven from Valecrown." Seris pulled back first. Her mask slid back into place but not completely.
"Yes?" she called.
"The High Council has moved," Caelum said grimly. "They've declared an emergency regency."
Elowen's blood ran cold. "That means….."
"A coup," Seris finished calmly. She looked back at Elowen, eyes dark and steady.
"They think I'm away," Seris said. "They think I'm distracted." Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
"They're about to learn how wrong they are."