The ruins of Caelhar loomed ahead, an ancient fortress of black stone carved into the mountainside. Its gates were broken, but inside, Aric felt the presence of power.
"The Dragon Court once ruled here," Serenya said as they entered. "Now, only echoes remain."
Aric looked around. The air was thick with heat, the walls lined with faded carvings of winged kings. His chest ached with every step, as if the mark resonated with the place.
Suddenly, torches flared to life. Figures cloaked in crimson emerged from the shadows—humans, but their eyes glowed faintly like Serenya's.
"Heretics," one hissed. "You brought the Betrayer here?"
Aric raised his sword. Serenya stood calm, unflinching. "Stand aside," she commanded.
But they attacked.
Aric fought furiously, the bond fueling his strength, but for every foe he cut down, the pain in his chest doubled. He staggered, nearly collapsing.
Then Serenya unleashed her power. Flames erupted from her palms, a torrent of dragonfire that consumed their enemies in an instant.
Aric stared, half in awe, half in fear. She wasn't merely powerful—she was divine.
But as the smoke cleared, Serenya looked at him with unreadable eyes. "This is only the beginning, Aric. To survive the Courts, you must master the fire within you. Or it will master you."