TriVerse: Bloom of the Forgotten soul

chapter 7 (tyrant's wrath)

Olka: (tone dry and dismissive) So. The Crystal Brood sends ghosts now… dragging relics and old words into my court. I won’t honor oaths forged by fools who whispered promises in times of glory

Vel’Seran: (stepping forward, voice tight with restraint) Those “fools” saved your territory during the Fangsun Wars. My elder gave Kaelor a second breath when your wings failed.

Olka: (growls softly) Kaelor is dead. His debts died with him. I owe you nothing.

Vel’Seran’s grip tightened on the egg as its glow fluttered—erratic, scared. Jena stepped in, her voice steely.

Jena: The Crystal Nest is essential. That egg carries the last spark of their bloodline. It’s more than legacy—it’s hope. Without the nest, it may die before it even lives.

Olka: (leans forward, smirking) Then let it. Weak flames don’t deserve wind.

Jena: (ice cutting through her tone) How dare you mock extinction.

Olka: Extinction comes to those who forget how to fight. Drakes endure by strength—not sentiment.

Something snapped in Jena—not just emotion, but purpose. Her aura flared, blue-white energy surging from beneath her skin like thunder from starlight.

Jena: You sit on a throne built by scars and call mercy weakness? Then prove it isn’t. If you think you’re the peak of power, then fight me. Duel me in your Colosseum.

Vel’Seran: (whispers urgently) Jena, no—!

Olka: (eyes narrow, shocked, then laughing) You? A speck from no origin? You challenge me? Do you even know the taste of pain?

Jena: I’ve lived with twin soul . I’ve walked with death echoing in my bones. If that egg dies here—then so do you.

A hush fell across the room. The guards shifted, uncertain. Even the lava seemed to pause in its motion.

Olka: (stands slowly) Then let Drakhalon decide. Three days. You face me in the Colosseum. No oaths. No favors. Just flame and fury.

Vel’Seran stepped forward, desperate.

Vel’Seran: You can't do this—she’s not a dragonborn, not bound to the rites—

Olka: She invoked blood challenge. She knew the cost.

Jena: (firmly) I accept the terms. And when I win, the egg survives—and you will build the nest it needs.

Olka stared at her for a long moment, then grinned—a predator amused by prey that refused to run.

Olka: You amuse me. Until then… you’ll stay within the Trial Sanctum. A prisoner with purpose.

Guards began to approach. Vel’Seran grabbed Jena’s hand, panic and awe woven together.

Vel’Seran: You don’t know what their arena demands. They fight with soul claws, not just flame.

Jena: Then I’ll sharpen mine.

Vel’Seran: I should’ve protected you from this…

Jena: No. You protected the egg. Now I protect our chance.

She looked at the soul egg, glowing like a fragile star. Then at Olka, whose smirk still curved like a blade.

Jena: Keep it warm. And believe in its birth.

Vel’Seran: (softly) You believe enough for both of us.

The guards flanked her now. Jena didn’t flinch. As she walked past Olka’s throne, she whispered just loud enough:

Jena: You’ve buried truth in ash. I’m here to dig it out—with fire.

The prison walls pulsed with the echo of violence. Faint traces of mana still drifted through the cracks, rippling like heat from a scorched battlefield. Jena stood frozen for a moment, the drained husk of the guard crumpled behind her—his body shriveled like burned parchment, the scent of discharged magic sharp in the air.

She exhaled slowly, the dragon soul within her swirling in warning and reverence. Then she turned toward the shattered food tray, scooped it up, and began moving through the rows of cages.

Whispers rose. Some dragons looked away in grief, some in quiet shock to see an new prisoner

The guards locked Jena  she stared at the bars waiting for her revenge

When prison guard came there for giving food he saw a dragon lady with menicing eye and Jena saw in horror as he violate the dragonlady

Jena's rage boils as she can't do anything  after an scream and  a stabbed sound  it went silent as  guard opened jena' s cage for more

Guard: (sneering) Your turn, little spark. Let's see how loud you scream.

Jena: (voice low and seething) You shouldn’t have touched her.

Guard: She was weak. And you? You’re next.

Jena: (rising slowly, eyes glowing) No. I’m last.

A sudden surge of light erupts from Jena’s skin—crystalline veins spiraling outward as her dragon soul awakens. The guard stumbles backward, choking as his mana begins to drain violently.

Guard: (gasping) What—what are you—

Jena: (whispers coldly) I’m her vengeance.

With one final pulse, his body collapses—void of magic, void of life. Silence follows. Jena unlocks her cell and kneels by the fallen dragon lady, then gathers the food tray.

She ended the guard's life and casually but with a burning rage reflecting the state of this rotten territory . She took the guard's supply and gave to the prisoners

Jena: (gently, passing food) Eat. Before the next guard arrives

A prisoner with wings like silver moss reached out and accepted the food with shaking claws. Another — a bulky wyrm with fractured scales — gave a solemn nod.

As she reached the final cell, she saw him — a small figure, curled beside the bars. Kebla. Scales the soft green of new leaves, horns barely curved, eyes too dim for his age. He looked no older than nine.

Jena: (kneeling) Here. It’s not fresh, but it’s yours.

Kebla: (without moving) You shouldn’t have done that.

Jena: Drained him? I don’t regret it.

Kebla: That was a Shadowguard. They’ll come looking.

Jena: Let them. I’ll burn what they send.

Kebla finally looked at her, eyes flickering with something between admiration and exhaustion.

Jena: What’s your name?

Kebla: Kebla.

Jena: You’re just a kid. Why are you down here?

Kebla shifted, curling tighter against the stone wall as if the memory burned more than the bruises.

Kebla: I’m a Feydragon a useless dragon .i came here to serve my best friend  the second prince. But I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.

Jena: What did you see?

Kebla: The Knight's host chamber. I wandered through the Knight's forge … saw them corrupting  soul crystal. Feeding them to empty bodies. Making new warriors.

Jena: (grimly) Soulforging. They’re turning crystal fragments into soldiers.

Kebla: I screamed. They silenced me… tried to erase the memory. But my aura’s strange. It resisted. So they locked me here.

Jena: You’re a witness to horrors they wanted buried.

Kebla: And if they find out I'm still dreaming about it… they’ll bury me too.

Jena sat beside him, her cloak brushing his tail gently.

Jena: Well, you’re not alone anymore.

Kebla: (quietly) That dragon lady… she tried to protect me once. Her name was Salyra.

Jena: (swallows hard) I saw. What they did. I couldn’t stop it in time.

Kebla: They do that a lot here. Because no one powerful enough ever fights back.

Jena: That’s changing. I challenged Olka to the Colosseum. Three days from now.

Kebla’s eyes widened — that mix of fear and wonder returned.

Kebla: You’re going to fight him?

Jena: I will. For the egg. For Vel. For Salyra. And maybe… for you too.

Kebla: Everyone who defies him ends up in here or in the grave.

Jena: Then it’s time someone makes defiance mean something

Kebla pulled a small shard from under his wing — faintly glowing, shaped like a tear.

Kebla: Salyra gave me this. She said it was part of her memory soul. If I ever needed strength… it would whisper her fire into me.

Jena: May I see it?

Kebla nodded and placed the shard into her palm. A sudden warmth surged through her — memories flashed: Salyra in flight, laughter under moonlight, a roar that pierced even death’s silence.

Jena: She was strong. She is still strong… inside this.

Kebla: I miss her.

Jena: Then let’s make her proud.

Kebla looked up, eyes now burning with faint hope.

Kebla: You’re different. Your soul doesn’t feel like one flame… it’s a storm.

Jena: Two souls. One heart. And the storm’s only starting to gush

Midnight in the depths of Drakhalon’s prison. The glow of fire runes flickers weakly. Most guards are asleep. Jena sits beside Kebla on cold stone

Kebla: (voice hushed) I’ve felt your aura for days. It’s different. Warm, protective… even when you’re angry.

Jena: (softly) Rage doesn’t mean I lost my warmth. It means I fought to keep it.

Kebla: Someone… someone once told me fire can protect as much as it destroys.

Jena: They were wise.

Kebla leans closer, eyes flickering with mischief and tension.

Kebla: I know where the Second Prince’s rebels are hiding.

Jena: (startled) You’re certain?

Kebla: A guard used to talk too much when feeding me. He boasted about how the “second-born coward” was building tunnels under the Obsidian Wing. He thought no one would listen. I always did.

Jena’s hand tensed on her cloak, her mind already weaving strategy.

Jena: (leaning in, whispering) There’s a drain vent two corridors east. If we disable the warding runes, we can slip through at moonfall. We’ll need two distractions, one forged seal, and the shadow veil I saw you practicing

Kebla: (grinning) You remembered?

Jena: I remember everything you survived.

Kebla: Then let’s make tonight the last thing this prison remembers.

Jena: (whispering) When I trigger the veil, it’ll mask sound and trace. Move only when I breathe out.

She placed the shard against the rune lock. A whisper of light bloomed — not bright, but absent, swallowing visibility like a deep breath from the void.

The cell door slid open without a sound

Kebla passed through the guards

The guards heads dipped, weapons slack. One twitched in his dream, murmuring something about "ashes and feathers."

Jena created a glyph on the far wall. A hidden passage hissed open, cold air swirling in like a forgotten memory.

Kebla: stay safe Jena I'll find the way to free you

By the next day as The Colosseum roared with echoes of war. Runes etched into the marble shimmered with violet and gold as flames danced from brazier to sky. In the center, Jena spun with fierce precision, her duel mana circle locking horns with the old Drake warrior — a towering figure of scale and molten armor. Sparks flew. Bone cracked. Spectators gasped.

On opposite ends of the Colosseum, two thrones faced each other: King Olka’s North Throne, gilded in flame-bound obsidian; and opposite, the Rune Throne, now lit by the presence of the Second Prince, who had arrived unannounced — his eyes burning brighter than the arena torches.

Second Prince: (voice thunderous, rising above the crowd) Olka, I demand your ear. I will not wait for blood to settle!

Olka: (seated coldly, eyes on Jena’s duel) You should choose your moments more wisely. This is a trial of flame. Not a council of whimpers. Not bad for an half breed

Second Prince: Then you shall hear me through the fire! Last night, Kebla uncovered your sins — truths too vile to be buried in silence.

Olka: (finally turning, jaw clenched) Speak carefully, traitor. You stand on cracked ground.

Second Prince: I stand on righteous ground! And I will not let Kaelor’s legacy be twisted into an abomination.

The crowd fell silent. Even Jena, mid-spell, glanced toward the thrones for second prince bravery. Her opponent struck, but she twisted under the blow and retaliated — her mana circle singing with soul light.

From behind the Second Prince, Kebla stepped forward, clutching a satchel. His voice trembled with urgency, yet held firm conviction.

Kebla: I found your sanctum, Olka. The Soulforgers’ forge. The rituals you swore were forbidden.

Olka: Lies. Fables spun by cowards.

Kebla: Then you admit nothing? Even as your dullahan patrols wear Kaelor’s crest?

Olka: Kaelor was dying. His soul fractured. I gave him purpose anew.

Second Prince: You desecrated him! Made our king… into a hollow shell. A dragon-dullahan bound by corrupted soulfire. You betrayed the Drake’s oath to the Crystal Brood.

Olka: (rising from his throne, voice cold) The Crystal Brood is fading. Their magic splinters. Their wisdom is outdated. I forged Kaelor not to honor the past — but to survive the future.

From the satchel, Kebla unveiled the currepted soul crystal — pulsing with fractured light, its aura sour and twisted. The elders watching gasped as it throbbed against the Colosseum’s ancient runes.

Kebla: This shard still hums with Kaelor’s signature. I matched it to the dullahan we saw near the Hollow Peaks. You turned him into a beast. A war machine.

Olka: So what if I did? He leads legions that will never falter. Never bleed. Tell me — what could Kaelor offer that is worth more?

Jena slammed her glaive into the Drake warrior’s chest. He staggered back, snarling. Rune dust exploded around them. Her eyes — glowing twin colors of soul light and flame — locked onto Olka

Jena: I demand crystal nest. I fight not because I was war thirst— but because I choose to protect what egg which was crystal dragons last hope

Second Prince: And I named her Champion because of that very truth. She is a bearer of both paths. Soul of a mother and  guardian of crystal dragon. Destiny and rebellion.

Olka: (snarling) Then let destiny fall to ash!

The Drake warrior roared and lunged once more, yet Jena pivoted and evaded — her counterstrike arcing in a crescent of burning light. He fell, armor shattered, breath ragged.

Olka: Impressive… for a cursed girl.

Kebla: She is not cursed — she’s twin soul. The Prophecy of the Dual Flame speaks of her. The egg of rebirth, the warrior of twilight. You know this, Olka. You’ve always known.

Second Prince: And you feared it. That her existence would make your hollow legions look like grave mistakes. That's the very reason you locked her in prison

Olka: Mistakes? I forged an empire of fire! You built whispers and rebellions. You breed hope in a dying world.

Second Prince: And still, hope burns brighter than your legions.

The crowd began to shift. The noble council murmured. Some watchers near the Rune Throne bowed their heads to Jena as she helped the fallen Drake warrior to his knees, refusing to kill.

Kebla: Even he — bound to your blood — sees her worth now.

Olka: (voice low, dangerous) You all would see my empire crumble over a girl born with broken threads?

Second Prince: No — we would see it rise anew. With truth. With choice. With souls unbound.

The Rune Throne pulsed. Jena stepped between the two thrones, her glaive lowered but glowing. Flame flickered around her, merging with crystal light as if the Colosseum itself were choosing sides.

Jena: My fight is not done. But I do not fight for vengeance. I fight for bloodline. For the unborn dragon. For the Brood. For those still dreaming.