Blood clung to Aric's blade as the mercenary dropped to one knee. His breath came ragged, eyes narrowed against the smoke that rose from the battlefield. The war was ending, though not in victory—only in ruin.
Aric spat to the side. "Damn nobles. Damn kings. Same blood, different banners."
He should have left already. He had fought for coin, not for glory. But something in the ruins drew him deeper. His instincts told him to walk away; his greed told him treasures still lingered in the bones of this fallen stronghold.
And so he found her.
At first, he thought it was just a girl—bound in chains, kneeling in the wreckage of the temple. Black hair spilled over her shoulders, skin pale as moonlight, and her eyes… no, her eyes weren't human. They burned with molten gold.
Aric raised his sword. "Who are you?"
Her voice was low, regal, dangerous. "I am Serenya. Last heir of the Dragon Courts. Free me, mercenary… and you will live beyond your mortal span."
Aric hesitated. He didn't believe in fairy tales. But the sigils etched into her chains glowed with power older than any magic he had seen. His heart pounded.
"Why me?" he asked.
Her lips curved faintly. "Because you were foolish enough to find me."
Before he could question further, the ground quaked. Crimson light surged from the runes. His sword clattered to the ground as a searing pain carved itself into his chest.
He screamed.
When the light faded, he collapsed, gasping, clutching his chest. Burned into his flesh was a sigil—glowing red, shaped like a dragon's eye.
Serenya rose from her chains, now broken, standing tall above him. "You are mine now, mercenary. By fire and by blood—you are bound."
Aric tried to rise but failed. Darkness took him.
The bond had been forged.