The Witch Who Bled The DragonFire

Beneath

That doesn’t mean I trust him. It just means I’m beginning to suspect he’s as lost in this mess as I am.

I take out my knife and examine the runes carved into the handle of the silver blade. They’re intricate, each line curving toward a small symbol at the centre.

I’ve seen old protective markings in my grandmother’s books, but nothing quite like this.

“Can you remove it?” Kael asks.

“Not without understanding what the runes do.”

“Then don’t touch them.”

I turn to him slowly.

“Do you have another suggestion?”

“No.”

“Excellent. We’re making progress.”

I wrap the handle in a strip of cloth and carefully scrape away the dark residue covering one of the outer markings.

The metal vibrates beneath my fingers.

Kael grips the edge of the stone ledge.

“Stop.”

I pull back immediately.

“What happened?”

“The binding tightened.”

My stomach drops.

I look at the blade, then at him. I’d nearly made his injury worse because I was too impatient to find an answer.

I hate how helpless that makes me feel.

“I need to understand what I’m dealing with.”

“Then start by accepting that you can’t fix everything in one attempt.”

The words irritate me because they’re true.

I set the knife down and close my eyes.

My grandmother used to tell me that magic wasn’t something you forced. It was something you listened to.

I never understood what she meant. Back then, I thought she was speaking in riddles because old people enjoyed making simple things unnecessarily complicated.

Now I’m beginning to wonder whether I should have paid closer attention.

I focus on the mark over my heart and imagine the warmth moving slowly into my fingertips.

At first, nothing happens.

Then a faint golden light appears beneath my skin.

I open my eyes.

Kael is watching me without speaking.

I take a breath and touch the knife to the outer rune.

The symbol flickers.

Then it goes dark.

The pressure in the room eases. Kael exhales, and his shoulders relax slightly.

I withdraw my hand.

“Did that help?”

“Yes.”

Relief washes through me, followed almost immediately by fear.

I’ve just used magic I don’t understand to interfere with a weapon made by the Crown.

There’s no pretending this is a coincidence anymore.

I study the remaining runes, but I can’t safely remove the blade without understanding the entire binding. My magic already feels weaker, and Kael is in no condition to endure another mistake.

“We need somewhere safer,” I tell him. “And proper light. I’m not pulling that thing out here.”

He looks as though he wants to argue, but a distant horn cuts through the sound of the wind.

We both turn toward the entrance.

Another horn answers it.

Closer this time.

Kael’s expression changes.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“They’ve found us.”

Before I can ask how, footsteps scrape against the stones outside.

A figure appears between the broken walls.

Then another.

Crown soldiers.

The first man steps through the entrance with a silver-tipped spear in his hand. Two more follow, one carrying a crossbow.

Their weapons are raised before they’ve even finished looking around.

The man at the front studies Kael. Then he stops.

“Draven.”

Recognition flashes across his face.

“Your exile has ended, Your Majesty. Kneel, and we may allow you to live.”

Kael lets out a short, humourless laugh.

“You brought three men to arrest me?”

The soldier’s expression hardens.

“Take them.”

Everything happens at once.

The soldier with the spear lunges toward Kael. Kael twists aside, but his injured side gives way, forcing him off balance. The spear scrapes against the stone wall where he stood a moment earlier.

I reach for Kael, but the soldiers close in.

The crossbowman raises his weapon.

I see the movement a second too late.

The bolt flies.

It strikes Kael in the upper arm.

He cries out and drops to one knee.

“Kael!”

The original silver blade remains lodged in his side. Now another silver weapon has pierced his arm.

Two injuries. Two pieces of enchanted metal.

And neither of us has the time to figure out what they’re doing to him.

“Down!” Kael shouts.

A soldier rushes toward me. I grab the iron poker beside the cold hearth and swing it with everything I have.

The blow catches his weapon hard enough to send it clattering across the floor. He curses and strikes me across the shoulder with his forearm.

Pain shoots down my arm.

I stumble against the table, barely managing to stay upright.

Kael presses a hand against the new wound, but the black blood seeping between his fingers tells me the bolt is no ordinary weapon.

The commander raises his spear.

“Enough of this.”

He takes a step forward, his attention fixed on Kael.

Then his gaze shifts to me.

The mark over my heart begins to burn.

I suck in a sharp breath and press my hand against my chest.

The commander goes still.

“The First Flame,” he whispers.

I stare at him.

“What did you just call me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he raises his spear.

Something inside me snaps.

The warmth beneath my skin surges, spreading through my chest and down both arms. The candles flare to life. Heat rolls through the room, so intense that the soldiers stumble backward.

Kael lifts his head.

“Elowen, don’t—”

A sound rises from deep within him.

It isn’t human.

The walls tremble. Black scales spread across his neck, and his fingers lengthen into claws. His shoulders broaden, his body shifting so violently that the stone ledge cracks beneath him.

I stumble away.

“No.”

The building shakes again.

Then the man I thought I knew disappears beneath a creature larger than the ruined building itself.

A dragon.

His scales , His wings tear through the remaining roof, sending broken timber and dust crashing across the room.