Elara's POV
I wake up to glowing amber eyes inches from my face.
My scream catches in my throat. Valdris—in human form, devastatingly beautiful and absolutely terrifying—crouches over me like a predator studying prey. His silver-white hair falls around his face, and dark scales shimmer along his neck. The soul-binding mark on his chest pulses with the same rhythm as mine.
"Don't scream," he says quietly. "I can feel your fear through the bond. It's... uncomfortable."
I force myself to breathe. We're still in the ruined watchtower where he transported us after escaping the Cage of Chains. My body aches everywhere—the soul-binding took more out of me than I realized.
"How long was I asleep?" My voice comes out scratchy.
"Six hours." He tilts his head, studying me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve. "You didn't wake once. Either you're foolish or exhausted."
"Both, probably." I sit up slowly, and immediately his hand shoots out to steady me. The touch sends warmth through the bond—not romantic, just... connection. Like our souls recognizing each other.
He jerks his hand back like I burned him.
"The bond lets you feel what I feel?" I ask.
"Unfortunately." He stands, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "Your emotions are loud. Especially your fear, which is currently screaming at me that you're terrified I'll hurt you. Yet you're not running."
"Where would I run? We're bound together."
"Smart girl." He stops pacing and faces me. "So let's discuss our situation. You've trapped me in a different kind of cage—one made of your life force instead of chains. If you die, I go back to that place. That torture. That endless pain."
Through the bond, I feel his panic at the thought. Five hundred years of agony, and he'd do anything to avoid returning to it.
"I didn't mean to trap you," I whisper.
"I know." His voice softens slightly. "I can feel that too. Your guilt is almost as loud as your fear. You genuinely wanted to help." He laughs bitterly. "Five hundred years, and the human who finally frees me does it by accident while trying to ease my pain. The irony is excruciating."
"I'm sorry—"
"Stop apologizing!" He whirls on me, and for a moment, fire flickers in his eyes. "You freed me from five centuries of torture, and you're apologizing? Do you have any idea how confusing that is?"
I stare at him. Through the bond, I feel something unexpected: he's not angry at me. He's angry at himself for not knowing how to handle kindness.
"You said the children have two days before execution," he says abruptly.
My heart clenches. "Less now. Maybe thirty-six hours."
"Tell me about them."
So I do. I tell him about Miko, only six years old, dying from Red Fever because the cure costs more than I can steal. About Brennan, the former soldier who risks everything to help us. About the thirty-two orphans living in a ruined temple, forgotten by everyone except me.
"The Grand War Mage declared them 'resource drains,'" I explain, my voice breaking. "They're going to burn them alive in the public square as 'cleansing.' To show what happens to people with weak magic."
Through the bond, Valdris feels my anguish—the desperate, clawing need to save them that drove me to his cage in the first place.
"You came to me knowing I might kill you," he says slowly. "Knowing I'm called the Calamity Dragon. Knowing the legends say I destroyed entire nations. And you did it anyway."
"They're children," I say simply. "What else could I do?"
He stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language. "You could have saved yourself. Run. Hidden. Let them die so you could live."
"That's not living. That's just... existing."
Something shifts in his expression. Through the bond, I feel his confusion transforming into something else—something that scares him more than torture ever did.
"I destroy things," he says, but his voice lacks conviction. "I don't save them."
"Then why are you still here?"
The question hangs between us. He could leave—the bond keeps us tethered, but the range is miles. He could fly away and force me to follow, could abandon the children to their fate.
Instead, he sits down across from me, and for the first time, I see past the monster to the person underneath. Someone who's been hurt so badly, for so long, that he forgot what kindness felt like.
"Show me your magic," he says suddenly.
"What?"
"Your healing magic. Show me what you can do."
I'm confused, but I place my hands on the stone floor. My magic flows out—gentle and warm—and moss begins growing between the cracks. Small flowers bloom. The dead stone comes alive.
Valdris watches with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. "Do you know what you are?"
"Someone with useless magic?"
"No." He leans forward. "You're a Dragon-Tender. Your bloodline is ancient—older than the war mages, older than this kingdom. Dragon-Tenders could heal dragons, strengthen them, and most importantly..." He pauses. "Break the bindings that enslave them."
My breath catches. "What?"
"There are forty dragons imprisoned beneath the Citadel," he says, his voice hard. "They've been tortured for centuries to fuel this kingdom's war magic. Your 'useless' healing magic is the only thing that can free them."
"But I don't know how—"
"I can teach you." He stands suddenly, and his whole demeanor changes. "Here's my offer, Elara Veylin. I help you save your children. You help me free my kin. We use each other until both our goals are met."
It's not friendship. Not trust. Just a bargain between two desperate people.
"And after?" I ask. "After the children are safe and the dragons are free?"
His smile is cold. "Then I burn this kingdom to ash for what they did to me. Every war mage. Every torturer. Everyone who caused five centuries of pain. I'll destroy them all."
Through the bond, I feel his rage—an inferno that's been burning for five hundred years, barely contained. He means every word.
"I can't let you murder innocent people," I say quietly.
"Then you'll try to stop me, and one of us will die, and we'll both end up destroyed by this bond." He shrugs. "But that's a problem for later. Right now, do we have a deal?"
I should say no. Should refuse to help someone planning mass murder.
But the children have thirty-six hours left.
"Deal," I whisper. "We save the children first."
Valdris nods. "Then let's begin your training. If you're going to break dragon bindings, you need to be stronger. The bond helps, but—"
He stops mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the tower entrance. Through the bond, I feel his alarm.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone's coming." His eyes blaze. "Multiple someones. War mages."
My blood runs cold. "They found us already?"
"Worse." Valdris's expression turns savage. "I recognize that magical signature. It's Lady Catryn Blackwater—the Grand War Mage's most ruthless hunter. And she's not alone."
Before I can react, an explosion rocks the tower. The wall crumbles, and through the dust, I see her: a beautiful woman with cold eyes and magic that crackles with malice.
"There you are," Lady Catryn purrs, stepping through the rubble. Behind her stand twelve war mages, all with their magic ready. "The Mercy Thief and the Calamity Dragon, bound together. How precious."
Valdris moves in front of me, protective despite our bargain being minutes old.
Catryn laughs. "Oh, this is perfect. Theron thought we'd need weeks to find you, but you made it easy." She raises her hand, and I see something that makes my heart stop: a glowing collar, covered in runes.
"Do you know what this is, dragon?" she asks. "It's a pain amplifier. Every ounce of suffering inflicted on the wearer is shared through any bond they have. So here's what's going to happen: I'm going to put this on your gentle little thief, and then I'm going to hurt her. And you're going to feel every second of it until you surrender."
Through our bond, I feel Valdris's horror. He just escaped five hundred years of torture. The thought of experiencing it again, through me, is his worst nightmare.
"No," he snarls.
"Yes." Catryn's smile is vicious. "Unless you'd prefer I just kill her now? Your choice, dragon. Submit and return to your cage, or watch her die and follow her into death. Either way, you lose."
The war mages close in, and I realize with sinking dread: we're not ready for this. Valdris is still weak. I barely know how to use my power. We have no plan, no backup, no way out.
Valdris looks at me, and through the bond, I feel his decision forming—the decision to surrender, to sacrifice his freedom to save me from torture.
"Don't," I gasp. "Please, don't—"
But before either of us can move, the tower explodes again—this time from inside.
A massive dragon crashes through the ceiling, roaring with rage. Not Valdris. Someone else. And on her back sits a figure I never expected to see.
"Sorry we're late," Brennan shouts over the chaos. "But I brought help!"