The Eternal Dragon’s Call

Chapter 2: The Price of a Heartbeat

"You are shaking like a leaf in a storm, Xavier, and we both know you will not survive the night without my help."

Lyra did not lower the crossbow. She stood in the dim light of the bunker, her gaze scanning the dark scales that crept up his neck like a slow-moving shadow. Xavier gripped the edge of his table. His knuckles were raw and bloody. He felt the cold air of the room biting into his skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire turning his lungs into brittle, useless stone.

"Your help," Xavier gasped. He spat a thick, gray glob of ash onto the floor. "You are just another leech. You want the power. You want the dragon. Why don't you just kill me and take what you need from my corpse?"

Lyra laughed. It was a sharp, dry sound that had no warmth in it. She reached into her coat and pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside glowed with a sickening, vibrant blue light. It pulsed in time with the phantom heartbeat in Xavier’s chest.

"I cannot loot a dead dragon," she said. "And you, Xavier, are the only key to the vault. I know who you were. I know about the Cleave War. I know the Imperial generals keep a piece of your soul inside a gilded cage in the capital."

Xavier tried to stand, but his knees buckled. He slammed into the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor. The world blurred. He could feel his breath hitching, the air turning into thick sludge in his chest.

"They have him?" he whispered. His voice broke, high and jagged with a grief that had been locked away for years. "You are lying."

"Check my mind if you want to," Lyra said. She walked closer. She knelt down, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone. She held the vial inches from his face. "But you won't. You are too weak. You are a dying animal, Xavier. And I am the only person holding the leash."

"I hate you," Xavier hissed. He fought the urge to reach for the vial. He hated the way it smelled—like ozone and ancient lightning.

"I don't care," Lyra replied. She shrugged. Her eyes were fixed on his throat, watching the scales ripple and shift as his body fought to stay alive. "Do you want to die in the dirt? Do you want your last memory to be the smell of this dump? Or do you want to find him?"

Xavier closed his eyes. The pain was absolute. It was a crushing, rhythmic weight that threatened to snap his spine. Every inhale felt like breathing in broken glass.

"The vault," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "What vault?"

"The Sunken Citadel," Lyra said. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Empire built a research station over the old sanctuary. They have wards that only a real Dragonbound can bypass. You open the doors, you walk out with the secrets, and I give you the elixir to keep your heart beating."

"And if I open the doors and you kill me?"

Lyra smirked. She tapped the vial against his chin.

"Then you die in pain. Which is exactly what you are doing right now. The choice is yours, hero. But you have about ten seconds before your lungs solidify entirely."

Xavier looked at her. He saw the cold logic in her expression. He saw the way she looked at him not as a man, but as a tool. He felt a flash of pure, unadulterated fury, but it was quickly swallowed by the terrifying reality of his own death. He was fading. The world was turning dark around the edges.

"Give it to me," he snarled.

"Say it properly," she whispered.

"Help me," he choked out, the words tasting like copper and defeat. "Please."

Lyra’s expression softened for a fraction of a second. She reached out and touched his chin. Her fingers were cold. She popped the stopper on the vial. The scent of storm-drenched earth filled the room.

"Drink," she commanded.

Xavier snatched the vial from her hand. He didn't hesitate. He downed the liquid in one swallow. It was icy cold, then blistering hot. It burned all the way down, slicing through the calcification in his chest like a knife through butter. He gasped, his back arching, his hands clawing at his chest as the agony vanished, replaced by a sudden, terrifying clarity.

His vision snapped into focus. The room felt sharper. The shadows seemed to move with a life of their own.

"Better?" Lyra asked.

Xavier pushed himself up. He felt stronger, faster, but there was a residual hum in his blood that made him want to scream. He looked at Lyra, his eyes glowing with a faint, violet light.

"That felt like poison," he said. His voice was steady now. Cold.

"It is," Lyra admitted. She stood up and holstered her crossbow. "It is a refined extract of the Aether. It keeps you alive by burning your remaining lifeforce. You are literally trading your future for a few more days of function. I told you, Xavier. It is a price."

Xavier climbed to his feet. He felt the weight of his own body again, the heaviness of his muscles, the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. It was a clean, artificial rhythm. It wasn't his.

"I need more," he said, his voice flat.

"You will get more when you earn it," she replied. She turned toward the door. She didn't look back to see if he was following. "We leave now. The path to the citadel is guarded. If you want to see your dragon again, you need to stop being a martyr and start being a monster."

Xavier stood there for a moment. He looked at the empty vial in his hand. He crushed it, the glass digging into his palm. A single drop of blue liquid stained his skin.

He followed her out into the dark. The ruins of the town were silent, the wind whispering through the jagged metal skeletons of the past. As they walked, the silence in his mind began to crack. He had expected relief. He had expected the numbness to return.

Instead, he heard it.

It was a sound like grinding stone and shattering stars. It was a voice, ancient and broken, vibrating directly against his skull.

*They are starving me, Xavier.*

Xavier stopped dead in his tracks. He clutched his head.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

Lyra stopped ahead of him. She didn't turn around. Her shoulders were rigid.

"Hear what?"

*Find the blade,* the voice roared in his mind, so loud that Xavier stumbled. *They are killing us both, little shadow. Find the blade or we both turn to ash.*

Xavier fell to his knees. He dug his fingers into the cold, hard earth.

"He’s in pain," Xavier whispered, his voice trembling. "He can feel me, Lyra. He knows I took the stuff."

Lyra finally turned around. For the first time, he saw a crack in her armor. Her eyes were wide. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and something that looked almost like awe.

"He is calling for you," she whispered. "He knows exactly where we are."

Xavier looked up at the sky. The clouds were churning, dark and heavy, forming the shape of wings that spanned the entire horizon.

"He wants to be found," Xavier said, his voice rising, raw and jagged. "And he doesn't care who dies to make it happen."

Lyra took a step toward him. She held out her hand.

"Then we better get moving," she said. "Because if he is waking up, the Empire is already on their way to stop him."

Xavier took her hand. It was cold. He stood up, his heart hammering against his ribs, not with the terror of his own death, but with the terrifying, beautiful promise of a war that was only just beginning.

"Where to?" he asked.

Lyra pointed toward the horizon, where the jagged spires of the capital rose like teeth against the dying light.

"To the vault," she said. "And after that, to hell."