Chapter 273
We flew before dawn.
Mirella rode behind me, clutching the saddle tight as Zaerion soared above the clouds. Kyral flew ahead, still smaller but swift, her golden wings slicing through the fog like a blade through silk. The sky bled amber, and wind howled in our ears, but neither of us spoke.
The sanctuary was hidden beyond the Blackridge Mountains, a place even maps had forgotten. Only Mirella had knowledge of its location—passed down from phoenix-blooded oral traditions that predated kingdoms.
“It's called Sol’tharein,” she’d told me before we left. “The Temple of the First Flame. It’s where dragon queens were once crowned—not in ceremony, but in power.”
I felt it in my bones before I saw it.
Magic.
Old, wild magic.
The kind that pulsed from the very earth like a heartbeat.
We landed on a cliffside carved from molten rock. Kyral chirped and circled us once before gliding down to perch on a pillar that jutted like a fang from the ledge.
The temple rose from the mountain like a forgotten god—its spires broken, its statues weathered by centuries. Giant dragon carvings twisted through the stone walls, their eyes set with faded sapphires. Fire glyphs danced across every column, half-erased by time but still burning faintly with life.
Mirella slid off the saddle, breath catching.
“This place is alive.”
I nodded. “It remembers.”
We stepped into the main hall, where silence stretched so deep it felt like a spell. Kyral padded beside me, unusually quiet, her gaze fixed ahead like she knew the way.
The walls were lined with murals—dragon queens past, their bonds etched in golden pigment. I saw Ilanora—my first incarnation—standing with her palm resting on a dragon’s head, the flames behind her alive with thousands of voices.
But there were others too—women I didn’t recognize. One bore twin swords. Another wore no crown, just armor laced with smoke. One had eyes of fire and a child in her arms. A baby… with white hair.
Mirella whispered, “You’re not the first. But you may be the last.”
A door shifted open ahead of us.
No one touched it.
Kyral tilted her head and walked through.
We followed.
The chamber inside was nothing short of sacred.
A round stone platform rested in the center, surrounded by a ring of dragon bones—ancient, gold-veined, massive. At the heart of the circle stood a basin filled with glowing embers.
Mirella knelt instantly. “This is the Well of Rekindling. It holds the original flame. The one the first queen used to awaken her dragon.”
I stepped forward, my chest tightening.
The air shimmered with invisible weight. My fingertips tingled. The fire knew me.
I reached toward it.
The embers flared.
A column of flame shot up, swirling around me—not burning, but pulsing with recognition.
Then—
Visions.
I saw the first dragon queen—clad in silver flame, standing at the edge of a shattered world. She whispered into the wind, and dragons rose from ashes. She bled for them. Died for them. Was reborn.
I saw the Bone King—once human, now twisted—drinking dragon blood, binding himself to the dark inverse of flame.
I saw a sword buried beneath the temple floor, glowing with the power of the Elderbond—a weapon forged from both dragonfire and human blood.
I gasped.
The vision faded.
I was back in the chamber. On my knees.
Mirella gripped my arm. “What did you see?”
“A sword,” I said. “Buried here. A bond weapon. Made from dragon and queen. It was used to end the first war.”
Her eyes widened. “The Elderblade.”
“It’s real,” I whispered. “And we need it.”
We searched for hours, Kyral leading us from corridor to corridor.
Finally, in a sunken room veiled in vines and broken stone, we found it—resting in a slab of obsidian. A long, elegant blade wrapped in molten silver and gold, its hilt shaped like a dragon’s open jaw.
As I stepped near, the vines retracted. The ground trembled. The sword began to glow faintly.
I reached out.
It burned my skin—but didn’t reject me.
Instead, it tested.
A thousand voices whispered in my ear—every queen who had wielded it before. Every dragon who had died in its forging. The weight of a thousand years of war.
And I understood.
This wasn’t just a weapon.
It was a promise.
I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and pulled.
The flame surged.
My veins lit up with gold.
Kyral let out a screech of approval.
And when I turned to Mirella, her eyes were damp.
“You’ve claimed the Elderblade,” she said. “The throne is truly yours now.”
I looked down at the sword in my hand—power thrumming through the metal.
“No,” I said quietly. “The war is.”
We spent the night in the temple.
The Alpha joined us by nightfall, flying in after ensuring Westeroz had stabilized. When he saw the blade, his eyes narrowed.
“You found it.”
“It found me,” I corrected.
We sat by the sacred flame, Kyral curled between us. The Alpha traced the etchings on the sword while I explained what I’d seen—how the Bone King had once been one of us.
“How do we kill him?” he asked.
“We don't,” Mirella said. “Not the way we’re thinking.”
We looked at her.
“He’s tied to something beneath the surface,” she explained. “A tether. Like a magical root. We have to sever it. At the source.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
She exhaled. “That’s the part we haven’t figured out yet. But when we do... you’ll be the only one who can destroy it.”
I nodded slowly.
The Alpha reached out and took my hand.
“You’ve never once run,” he said, his voice low. “Not when you should’ve. Not even when it cost you peace.”
“I don’t want peace,” I said. “I want to win.”
He looked at me a moment longer—then kissed my knuckles.
Not like a fairytale prince.
Like a man ready to follow me into hell.
At dawn, the flame changed.
Kyral woke with a screech and flapped into the air, wings fully extended. The fire in the basin shimmered violet.
I ran forward.
More visions.
The Bone King had found a new host.
A child.
Lilah’s face flickered before me—blank-eyed, hands bound in chains, carried toward the sea.
They were going to sacrifice her.
I staggered back, breath catching.
“They’ve taken Lilah,” I said. “He’s going to use her blood. He’s turning her into a vessel.”
Mirella paled. “He wants a queen. If he can't have you—he’ll make one.”
The Alpha was already reaching for his sword.
“We leave now.”
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