Chapter 276
The fires were still dying.
All through the night, the people of Westeroz moved like ghosts, clearing rubble, healing the wounded, and burying the fallen. Smoke curled over broken towers, and the scent of ash clung to every surface like mourning.
I walked through the halls barefoot, my hands still stained with soot. Kyral rode quietly on my shoulder, heavy with something unspoken. Her usual chirps and curious glances were gone. She hadn’t uttered a sound since the battle ended.
She was changing.
We both were.
I entered the chamber where Mirella had been keeping the Elderblade sealed in runes. She stood with her back to me, facing the sword where it hovered mid-air, suspended in a golden web of flame and binding magic.
“The sword speaks,” she murmured.
I stepped closer. “What is it saying?”
“It’s awakening,” she said softly. “It’s waiting for a final command. One that hasn’t been given… because you haven’t made it yet.”
I stared at the blade—my birthright, my burden. The weapon I was never meant to choose but destined to carry.
“What if I don’t want to be their weapon?” I whispered.
Mirella turned to me, her face calm and knowing. “Then be your own.”
Later, I stood on the northern ramparts, watching the sun rise over the sea. The skies were quiet again, but tension clung to the air like a coiled spring, ready to snap.
The Alpha joined me silently.
He didn’t speak right away. Just stood close enough for our arms to touch.
Eventually, I broke the silence.
“You lied.”
He nodded. “I did.”
“You were supposed to kill me.”
“Yes.”
“And why didn’t you?”
He looked at me now, really looked at me—not with the eyes of a soldier or a king, but with the rawness of a man stripped bare.
“Because the moment I saw you with Kyral... I knew you weren’t a weapon. You were a world I couldn’t destroy.”
I exhaled slowly, the weight in my chest easing just slightly.
“I’m tired of people choosing my fate for me,” I said. “First the council, now the Bone King, and even you…”
He gently touched my hand. “Then choose your own.”
That night, Kyral began to burn.
I found her in the courtyard garden, curled in the moonlight. Her body pulsed with golden light, heat radiating off her in waves. She was glowing from within—fire leaking from her eyes and nostrils.
“Kyral?” I knelt beside her, panic rising.
She looked at me, and for the first time… I heard her.
Not in words, but in thought.
“Mother.”
I gasped.
Her mind touched mine like a spark in dry grass—instant, overwhelming, unstoppable. I saw her memories. Her dreams. Her fears.
And I saw what was coming.
The Bone King wasn’t retreating. He was waiting. Gathering the broken remnants of the old flameborn who’d turned. Raising beasts from the ruins. Fueling a final strike.
But worse—
He wasn’t trying to destroy the throne.
He was trying to merge with it.
“You’re the only thing standing between him and the gate,” Kyral’s voice echoed in my head, childlike but fierce. “If he takes you, he takes everything.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“I won’t let that happen,” I whispered aloud.
Kyral’s form glowed brighter—wings stretching, bones cracking, her body growing as fire spiraled around her. Zaerion landed nearby, watching silently, his massive frame bowing in respect.
Mirella appeared at the edge of the garden, breath caught in her throat. “She’s ascending.”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“It means she’s no longer a hatchling,” Mirella said. “She’s becoming what she was always meant to be—your shield. Your equal.”
When the fire cleared, Kyral stood nearly as tall as I was. Sleek and serpentine, her golden scales shimmered with power. Her eyes were no longer wide with curiosity—they burned with purpose.
She stepped toward me, wings half-folded.
“We must go to the gate.”
I nodded. “Tomorrow.”
She lowered her head to mine.
“Tonight, we fly.”
We soared through the skies over Westeroz, just the two of us. Kyral and I, high above the mountains, riding the wind. I rode bareback on her, the Elderblade strapped across my back, my hair whipping wildly.
For the first time in weeks, I felt free.
Above the clouds, I could pretend none of it mattered—not the throne, not the blood, not the destiny carved into my skin.
Just flame. And sky.
I laughed—actually laughed—as Kyral twisted mid-air, wings slicing through stars, her voice humming in my mind.
“This is what we were made for.”
When we landed, the Alpha was waiting at the edge of the garden, watching with guarded awe.
“She’s changed,” he said.
“So have I,” I replied.
He stepped toward me, slowly. “Do you trust me again?”
“No,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
“But I still choose you.”
He blinked, taken aback. “Even knowing what I was meant to do?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Because you chose me when you didn’t have to. And because I’m tired of letting fear make my decisions.”
His hands gripped my waist before I could say another word. He pulled me close, his forehead resting against mine.
“Then whatever comes next,” he murmured, “we face it together.”
The next morning, the castle was buzzing.
Scouts had returned from the western ridge—bearing news that made my blood run cold.
“The Bone King has opened the outer gate,” Mirella said, her voice low and trembling. “He’s one step away from reaching the chamber of origin. If he binds himself to that magic…”
I didn’t let her finish.
“We go now.”
We marched at dawn.
I rode Kyral. Zaerion flew ahead with Mirella. The Alpha led the ground forces, our warriors ready, loyal, and brimming with rage.
The gate—once sealed by the dragon kings of old—was already cracked when we arrived.
Smoke poured from its base. Bones littered the ground. The air was so thick with magic, it burned to breathe.
We pushed forward.
Inside, the Bone King waited, seated on a throne of flame and flesh. His eyes were hollow. His mouth curled in a smile that made my skin crawl.
“You always come too late,” he said.
I stepped forward, blade drawn.
“Not this time.”
He rose.
The gate behind him flared with power—millennia of locked magic straining at its bounds. He turned toward it, chanting in the tongue of origin.
Mirella screamed, “He’s binding!”
I lunged.
We clashed at the threshold—dragonfire against shadowflame, the Elderblade humming in my hand.
The force of our collision shattered the floor.
We fell—
Down into the core of the world.
We landed in a cavern of light and smoke, the original source of dragonkind pulsing beneath us like a living heart. The Bone King rose from the rubble, laughing.
“You can’t stop what’s already begun.”
“I don’t have to stop it,” I said, fire gathering at my back. “I just have to end you.”
And with a cry that shattered the chamber, Kyral dove.
Together, we struck.
Light and flame.
Queen and dragon.
And the world broke open.
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