Elara's POV
I didn't sleep that night.
How could I? Tomorrow, guards would drag me to the Obsidian Gate. Tomorrow, they'd chain me to ancient stone and watch me burn. Tomorrow, I'd either die screaming or wake something the world feared for three hundred years.
The dragon mark on my arm pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"Tick tock, princess."
I jerked up. Cassian stood outside my cell, his face half-hidden in shadow. How long had he been watching me?
"Come to gloat one last time?" My voice came out steadier than I expected.
"Actually, I came to tell you the truth." He leaned against the bars. "You deserve that much."
"I don't want anything from you."
"Not even answers?" He smiled that charming smile that once made my heart flutter. Now it just made me sick. "Don't you want to know when I started hating you? Or was it always fake from the very beginning?"
I should've stayed silent. Should've ignored him. But I needed to know. "When?"
"The first day we met." His smile widened. "You were sixteen, do you remember? You'd just returned from visiting the southern villages. You were covered in mud because you'd helped some farmer's wife pull her cart out of a ditch. You were laughing about it."
I did remember. I'd been so embarrassed, but Cassian had said it made me beautiful.
"I thought you were an idiot," he continued. "A princess, rolling in mud with peasants. But Seraphine approached me that same night. She told me her plan—seduce the naive princess, gain her trust, destroy her when the time was right. In exchange, I'd become Prince Consort when she took the throne."
Each word was a knife. "Three years. You pretended for three years."
"It wasn't easy." He made a disgusted face. "Your stupid optimism. Your boring stories about helping people. Your pathetic belief that everyone was good deep down. Do you know how hard it was to pretend I cared?"
"Then why tell me now?"
"Because tomorrow you die, and I want you to spend your last hours knowing the truth." His eyes glittered with cruelty. "You were never loved, Elara. Not by me. Not by Seraphine. Not even by your father—he always resented you for having your mother's dragon blood. You were always alone. You just didn't know it."
Something inside me should've broken. That's what he wanted—to see me cry, to see me shatter.
Instead, I started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Cassian's smile faltered.
"You are." I stood up, chains rattling. "You think telling me I was alone will break me? I already figured that out days ago. I already mourned the life I lost." I stepped closer to the bars. "But here's what you don't understand—having nothing left means I have nothing left to lose."
"Empty threats from a dead girl."
"We'll see about that tomorrow." I held up my bleeding palm, showing him the dragon mark glowing on my arm. "You wanted me gone because I'm dragon-touched. Well, guess what? Tomorrow I meet a dragon. And if I survive—when I survive—I'm coming back for all of you."
For the first time, Cassian looked uncertain. "The dragon will kill you."
"Maybe. Or maybe he'll help me burn your entire corrupt kingdom to the ground." I smiled, and it felt good. It felt powerful. "Sleep well, Cassian. Because if I survive tomorrow, you'll never sleep peacefully again."
He left without another word.
I sat back down, my heart pounding. Was I brave or just insane? Either way, there was no going back now.
Hours crawled past. The dungeon stayed silent except for distant water dripping. My mind raced with everything Zara had said. Dragon-Speakers can't be killed by dragon fire. Your blood is the key to breaking the seal.
What if she was wrong? What if I just burned like everyone else?
"Stop it," I whispered to myself. "Fear won't help you now."
The mark on my arm pulsed again, stronger this time. And with it came something else—a feeling that wasn't mine. Hunger. Rage. Anticipation.
The dragon was feeling what I felt. And I was feeling what he felt.
We were already connected, even separated by miles of stone and magic.
Heavy boots echoed down the hallway. Multiple guards this time. Dawn must be coming.
"It's time," the lead guard announced, unlocking my cell.
My mouth went dry. "Already?"
"The King wants this done early. Before the crowds wake up." He grabbed my arm roughly. "Let's go, traitor."
They dragged me through the dungeon corridors and up endless stairs. My legs barely worked. Fear and exhaustion made everything fuzzy and distant.
We emerged into the pre-dawn darkness. Cold air hit my face. In the distance, I could see the Obsidian Gate rising against the gray sky—a massive black structure built into the mountain, covered in chains and glowing runes.
My execution site.
A small group waited near the palace gates. My father stood there in his royal robes, looking older and more tired than ever. Seraphine stood beside him, practically bouncing with excitement. Behind them, High Mage Vorian—the ancient wizard who'd helped create the dragon's prison centuries ago.
"Father," I called out as guards dragged me closer. "Please. One last time. I'm innocent."
He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, daughter. But the law is clear. Dragon-touched individuals are too dangerous to live."
"Then why did you marry my mother?" I shouted. "She was dragon-touched too!"
Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were red from crying. "I know. And I've regretted it every day since she died. She brought nothing but pain to this family. Just like you."
The words hurt worse than any beating. This was my father—the man who'd raised me, taught me, told me he loved me. And he wished I'd never been born.
"Fascinating," Vorian stepped forward, studying me like a bug under glass. "The dragon mark is already manifesting. Your connection to the World-Breaker must be incredibly strong. This will make the execution even more powerful."
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"When dragon-touched blood feeds the seal, it strengthens the prison exponentially." His smile was cold and academic. "Your death will ensure that dragon stays locked away for another thousand years. You should be honored—your sacrifice serves the kingdom."
"I'm not sacrificing anything!" I struggled against the guards. "You're murdering me to hide your crimes!"
"Move her out," Vorian ordered. "Dawn is breaking. We must reach the Gate before sunrise for the ritual to work properly."
They forced me into a wagon—a prisoner's cart with iron bars. As we rolled through the city streets, I saw people beginning to wake up. Shopkeepers opening their doors. Children running to play. Normal people living normal lives.
None of them knew their entire world was built on dragon blood and lies.
The wagon climbed higher into the mountains. The road grew rougher. Finally, we stopped.
The Obsidian Gate loomed before us—even more massive and terrifying up close. The black stone seemed to absorb light. Chains as thick as tree trunks wrapped around it. And carved into the surface were thousands of names—every person who'd been executed here over three centuries.
Soon my name would join them.
Guards dragged me to the base of the Gate. Ancient chains waited there, already open and ready. They locked one around each wrist and ankle, spreading me out against the cold stone like a sacrifice.
"Any last words?" Vorian asked, preparing his magical implements.
I looked at Seraphine, who was watching with glee. At my father, who couldn't look at me. At Cassian, who'd arrived to watch me die.
"I hope you all rot," I said clearly. "I hope whatever happens next haunts you for the rest of your miserable lives."
"How touching," Seraphine laughed. "Goodbye, sister. Enjoy burning."
Vorian began chanting in an ancient language. The chains around me started glowing red-hot. Pain shot through my wrists and ankles where metal touched skin.
"Now, child," Vorian said, pulling out a ceremonial knife. "Your blood will feed the seal and—"
"Wait." I looked him straight in the eye. "What if I don't want to feed the seal? What if I want to break it instead?"
His chanting faltered. "What?"
"My mother was a Dragon-Speaker," I announced loudly. "That means I am too. And Dragon-Speaker blood doesn't strengthen prisons." I smiled through my pain. "It shatters them."
"NO!" Vorian lunged forward with his knife. "We must complete the ritual before—"
Too late.
I grabbed the piece of broken glass still hidden in my palm—the one Zara had given me—and drove it deep into my other arm. Blood poured out, hot and fast, splashing onto the Gate's ancient lock mechanism.
The moment my blood touched the seal, everything exploded.
Light erupted from the Gate—not red like the chains, but silver-white like dragon fire. The ground shook violently. Cracks spread across the black stone. The chains began to shatter, link by massive link.
"STOP HER!" Seraphine screamed.
But nobody could stop it now.
The Gate burst open in an explosion of shadow and flame. A roar shook the mountains—a sound of pure rage and joy and freedom mixed together.
And from the darkness, he emerged.
Ashkaroth.
The World-Breaker.
The dragon everyone feared.
He was massive—scales like polished obsidian, wings that blocked out the rising sun, eyes like molten gold fixed directly on me.
"Finally," his voice thundered inside my skull. "After three hundred years of torture, a little thief breaks my chains."
Our eyes locked. The dragon mark on my arm blazed with silver fire.
And I realized three things at once:
One—I was still alive.
Two—I'd just freed the most dangerous creature in history.
Three—Seraphine, Cassian, my father, and Vorian were all about to die.
Unless I stopped him.