Chapter 265
The scroll was still clutched in my hand when I returned to my chambers, breath short and fingers trembling. My thoughts raced like wild horses—untamed and urgent.
"Only the Moon-Blooded shall command the true fire."
What did that mean? What was “true fire”? Was I supposed to control it—or stop it?
I laid the scroll down carefully, pacing the length of the room. My mark. The one shaped like a crescent cradling a flame—I’d always thought it was just a birthmark, a strange quirk of fate. But now I knew better.
It was a seal.
A warning.
A claim.
I didn’t sleep. Instead, I lit every candle in the room, the soft flames flickering like whispers. I kept reading. Searching. Waiting for something else to surface from the scrolls that had been hidden from the world for centuries.
Just before dawn, I heard the knock.
A single, heavy rap.
I opened the door without asking who it was. I already knew.
He stepped inside, eyes sharp and jaw clenched. The Alpha. No armor. No cloak. Just him—bare and steady.
“You felt it too?” I asked before he could speak.
He gave a short nod. “A tremor. Not the ground. The air. Something woke.”
My heart sank. “It’s the rogue dragon. It’s moving.”
He stepped closer, scanning the room. His gaze landed on the scrolls, then on me. “You didn’t sleep.”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t. I found something. It’s not just a bond. It’s blood. I’m one of them—or something ancient tied to them.”
He didn’t flinch. “Moon-Blooded.”
“You know what that is?” I asked, surprised.
“I’ve heard the stories. My ancestors served a Moon-Blooded queen. She ruled before the fire wars—before dragons vanished. She was feared. Worshipped. Hunted.” He paused. “They say she made the dragons bow with a single word.”
The air in the room felt heavier suddenly, like it was listening.
“She died,” he said, more quietly now. “Betrayed by her own court.”
I didn’t look away from him. “And now history repeats itself?”
“No.” His voice hardened. “Now we finish what they were too afraid to begin.”
His certainty was like steel being forged.
I drew a shaky breath. “There’s more. The scroll says only the Moon-Blooded can command the true fire. What if that means me... but also means I’m the only one who can stop the one that woke up?”
He gave a short, almost grim nod. “Then we find it. You and me. Before it finds someone else.”
We didn’t take the full guard. This wasn’t a mission for many. It was personal.
The Alpha rode beside me, dark against the early dawn sky, silent but alert. We moved fast—through the thick woodlands east of Westeroz, to the valley where the smoke signals had come from. The scouts had gone ahead. No word had returned.
I didn’t need a message to know what had happened.
As we neared the ridge, the wind shifted. Acrid. Burnt. Wrong.
Smoke coiled up into the sky, trailing from blackened trees. And then we saw it—scorched earth stretching across the slope like a wound.
No movement.
No scouts.
Just silence... and heat.
He signaled for us to dismount. We moved cautiously through the ashes, eyes scanning, listening for any sign of life—or fire.
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
Not violently—but deep. Like something breathing beneath it.
And then I heard it.
A growl.
It wasn’t just sound. It was inside me. Like thunder rolling through my bones.
I staggered back a step, grabbing his arm without thinking. He steadied me immediately.
“It’s here,” I whispered. “It feels... wrong. It’s angry. Lost.”
He nodded once and reached for his blade. But I stopped him.
“No,” I said. “It’s calling me. I have to go alone.”
He didn’t like it. I could see the protest rising in his chest—but he trusted me. Instead of arguing, he reached out, pulled me close, and placed something into my palm.
A charm. Silver. Etched with runes.
“For protection,” he said simply.
Then he stepped back.
And I walked into the flame.
The world changed when I crossed the ridge.
Heat pulsed with every step, but it didn’t burn me. The fire curled around my feet like wind. I felt it move with me, not against me.
And then I saw it.
The dragon.
Massive. Wings spread like storm clouds, scales cracked and scorched as though it had clawed its way out of something that was never meant to open.
Its eyes locked on mine—glowing gold, then white.
It growled.
And then it spoke.
Not with words.
With memory.
A flash—chains, screaming, darkness, fire. Betrayal. A broken oath.
It had once been bound by blood. Protected. Now it was alone.
“You’re not forgotten,” I said aloud, not knowing why I knew the words.
It moved.
Closer.
I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t.
My mark burned. The same symbol glowed on the dragon’s chest—dim, fading, as if broken.
“You’re one of mine,” I whispered.
The dragon snarled—confused, agonized.
I stepped forward and lifted my palm.
The mark between us ignited. A blue flame burst into the air—bright, alive, whole.
The dragon stilled.
A moment later, it lowered its head.
I stepped closer and touched its snout.
The fire didn’t consume me.
It welcomed me home.
When I returned over the ridge, he was waiting. Sword still in hand, eyes on me the moment I appeared.
Behind me, the dragon walked—slowly, like a shadow.
He didn’t speak. Just stared.
I nodded.
“It’s with us now.”
His eyes moved from me to the dragon, then back.
“You rode into fire,” he said, voice rough. “And came out leading it.”
I shrugged, heart still pounding. “I didn’t lead. I listened.”
He stepped forward, close enough that his presence anchored me again.
“You realize what this means,” he said.
I did.
The bond was real.
The title wasn’t ceremonial.
The Moon-Blooded queen wasn’t myth anymore.
I was her.
And the world would either kneel—or burn.
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