Elara's POV
"Hit me with fire."
I stare at Azrathion like he's lost his mind. "What?"
"Your training starts now. Hit me with fire." He stands in the center of the cave, arms crossed, looking completely calm.
"I'm not going to attack you!"
"Why not? Afraid you'll hurt me?" His smile is mocking. "Little flame, I survived three centuries of torture. Your fire won't even tickle."
That arrogant tone makes anger flare in my chest. Before I can think, silver fire explodes from my hands straight at him.
He doesn't move. Doesn't even flinch.
The fire hits him and... absorbs into his skin. Just disappears like water into sand.
"Better," he says. "But you need to mean it. Attack me like I'm your enemy."
"You're supposed to be teaching me control, not—"
"I'm teaching you to fight." His voice goes hard. "In six days, the Council will attack with everything they have. You need to be ready to kill or be killed. So stop holding back and HIT ME."
I throw more fire. He absorbs it again.
"Harder!"
I'm getting angry now. Really angry. All the rage I've been holding back—Maven's betrayal, Celestine's cruelty, my family's rejection—it all floods out.
The fire turns white-hot. I scream and unleash everything.
Azrathion finally moves. He creates a shield of black flames that catches mine. When they collide, the cave shakes.
"THERE it is!" He's grinning now. "That's the power I felt. Again!"
We fight for an hour. He blocks every attack easily, but I'm getting faster. Stronger. More precise.
Finally, he calls a halt. "Enough. You're learning."
I collapse, panting. "You're insane."
"I'm efficient." He sits beside me, not even breathing hard. "You learn faster under pressure. Now rest. We have more to discuss."
"Like what?"
His expression goes serious. "Like why you have the Dragonheart. Like who you really are."
Something about his tone makes my stomach tighten. "I know who I am. I'm Elara Morwen."
"You're also Lysandra Ravenshade, Dragon Queen. Reincarnated." He says it like it's simple fact.
My head spins. "That's impossible. Reincarnation isn't real."
"It's rare, but it happens. Especially with souls as powerful as yours." He touches his chest where the mark is. "The soul-bond proves it. This exact bond existed between Lysandra and me three hundred years ago. When you touched the seal, it recognized you and reformed."
"No." I shake my head hard. "No, I'm not some dead queen. I'm just me!"
"You ARE you. But you're also her." He leans closer, his golden eyes intense. "Your soul is the same. The memories might be gone, but the essence remains. That's why your magic is so powerful. That's why you could break the seal."
"This is crazy," I whisper.
"This is destiny," he corrects.
"I don't believe in destiny!" I jump to my feet. "I don't believe some dead woman's soul is controlling me! I make my own choices!"
"No one's controlling you." He stands too, frustratingly calm. "Lysandra isn't possessing you. You're not her puppet. You're your own person with your own life and choices. But your soul—the deepest part of you—carries her essence. And that essence is bonded to mine."
He touches his mark again. "Watch."
I feel it. A pulse of warmth spreading from my own mark. Not painful. Just... present. Connected.
"When I do this," he says, dragging his finger along the mark, "you feel it. Don't you?"
Heat races through my chest. I gasp and stumble back. "Stop that!"
"The bond connects us. Your emotions, my emotions. Your pain, my pain. Your pleasure—"
"STOP." My face is burning. "I get it. We're connected. That doesn't mean I'm your dead girlfriend reborn!"
Something flashes across his face. Pain. Anger. Loss.
"Lysandra wasn't my girlfriend," he says quietly. "She was my mate. My queen. My everything. And the Mage Council murdered her in front of me."
The raw grief in his voice stops my anger cold.
"How?" I ask softly.
He's silent for a long moment. Then: "We were trying to make peace. The Council wanted dragon power for their mages. We offered a sharing agreement—dragon magic in exchange for human knowledge and resources. But they wanted it all. They wanted to OWN us, not partner with us."
He stares at nothing, lost in memory.
"They invited us to a treaty signing. It was an ambush. Fifty mages attacked us with weapons designed to kill dragons. I fought, but there were too many. They drove a cursed spear through Lysandra's heart right in front of me."
His hands clench into fists. "She died in my arms. Her last words were 'I'll find you again.' Then she was gone. And I... I lost control."
"That's when you almost destroyed the world," I say, remembering the legends.
"I destroyed half of it before they managed to trap me using Lysandra's stolen Dragonheart magic. They ripped the power from her dead body and used it to create the seal." His voice shakes with rage. "For three hundred years, I've been imprisoned, tortured, drained. The only thing keeping me sane was her promise. 'I'll find you again.'"
He looks at me finally. Really looks at me.
"And you did. You came back. You broke the seal. You freed me."
Tears burn my eyes. "I'm sorry that happened to you. To her. But I'm not Lysandra. I didn't promise you anything. I'm just a girl whose family threw her away."
"You're so much more than that." He steps closer. "I know you're not her. You're different—sharper, angrier, more guarded. Lysandra was gentle and diplomatic. You're fire and fury. But the soul is the same. The bond is the same. And whether you accept it or not, we're connected now. Forever."
"I didn't ask for this!"
"Neither did I!" His voice rises. "You think I wanted to feel this bond again? To risk losing someone I love for a second time? I spent three centuries becoming cold. Hard. Numb. Then you touched those chains and everything I buried came flooding back!"
We're standing too close now. I can feel heat radiating from him. Can see gold flames flickering in his eyes.
"I don't love you," I say, but my voice wavers.
"Not yet." His hand comes up to cup my face. "But you will. The bond will make sure of that. It's already starting, isn't it? You feel it when we touch. When we fight together. When I look at you like this."
His thumb brushes my cheek and warmth floods through me. The mark on my chest pulses in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"That's the bond," I insist. "Not real feelings."
"The bond amplifies what's already there." He leans closer until his forehead almost touches mine. "Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me this connection is just magic with no emotion behind it. Look me in the eyes and tell me that lie."
I open my mouth to do exactly that.
But I can't.
Because he's right. I do feel something. Something that terrifies me more than magic or dragons or the Council hunting us.
I feel like I belong here. With him. Like I've finally found something I didn't know I was missing.
"This is insane," I whisper.
"I know." His breath is warm against my lips. "But insanity seems to be our destiny."
He's going to kiss me. I can see it in his eyes. And the terrifying part? I want him to.
Before either of us can move, a sound splits the air.
A roar. Not Azrathion's roar. Something else.
He pulls away from me instantly, his whole body going tense. "No."
"What is it?"
"Another dragon." He moves to the cave entrance, staring into the sky. "Impossible. They're all sealed. Unless—"
A massive shape descends from the clouds. Smaller than Azrathion but still huge. Scales of deep blue and green. Eyes like ice.
The dragon lands outside the cave and transforms.
A woman stands there. Beautiful, deadly, with silver hair and blue scales patterning her skin.
"Hello, Azrathion," she says. Her voice is cold. Hateful. "Did you really think you could break your seal without the rest of us feeling it?"
"Morvane." Azrathion's voice is wary. "How did you escape?"
"I didn't." Her smile is vicious. "The Council let me out. Made me a deal I couldn't refuse."
"What deal?"
Her eyes shift to me. Pure hatred burns in them.
"Kill the Dragonheart," she says, "and they'll free my daughter from her seal. One life for one life. Seems fair, don't you think?"
She raises her hands and ice magic—pure, deadly ice magic—gathers around them.
"Sorry, girl," she says, looking at me. "Nothing personal. But my child comes first."
The ice explodes toward me in a killing strike.
Azrathion roars and throws himself between us, but he's too far away—
The ice is going to hit me.
I'm going to die.
Unless—
Silver fire erupts from my hands on pure instinct. Not to attack. To defend.
The fire and ice collide in mid-air and something ELSE happens.
The magic doesn't cancel out. It COMBINES.
Silver fire wrapped in crystalline ice creates something new. Something impossible.
A weapon made of frozen flames that hangs in the air between us.
Everyone stares at it.
"What is that?" Morvane whispers.
Azrathion's voice is filled with awe and terror: "Fusion magic. The Dragonheart's ultimate power. She can combine any two magics into something new."
Morvane's face goes pale. "That's impossible. Even Lysandra couldn't—"
"Elara isn't Lysandra," Azrathion says. His eyes meet mine, burning with intensity. "She's stronger."