The King's Curse

Chapter Three

The dragon's wings blotted out the moon as it descended, its massive form creating a shadow that stretched over the ruins. Kael’s heart raced, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. Lyra cursed under her breath, drawing her daggers in preparation.

"You really had to summon a dragon?" she muttered. "I was hoping for something a little more manageable."

The beast’s roar reverberated through the air, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Its scales gleamed like obsidian, and its eyes—fiery pools of molten rage—locked onto Kael as if sensing his newfound power.

“Kael, don’t—” Lyra shouted, but it was too late. Kael, driven by a mixture of fear and something darker, raised his hand, the Cursed Crown pulsing against his brow.

A strange power surged through him, a force he couldn’t understand. The voice of the crown whispered again, a tantalizing promise that echoed in his thoughts. Command it, Kael. You are the king now. The dragon bends to your will.

“Not now!” Kael yelled, shaking his head as if to clear the voice from his mind. He felt the crown’s influence, strong and insistent, but there was a part of him that resisted.

The dragon landed with a crash, sending a shockwave through the ruins. It opened its maw, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and Kael braced himself for the inevitable firestorm that would follow.

But instead of the expected inferno, the dragon paused, its eyes flickering with confusion. It sniffed the air, focusing on Kael, its massive head tilting slightly as if trying to discern something.

Lyra’s breath caught. "What’s it doing?"

“I don’t know,” Kael replied through gritted teeth, still gripping his sword. He felt the pulse of the crown once again, and this time, he dared to reach out with his mind.

The dragon responded—slowly at first, but then more decisively. Its stance softened, the fury in its eyes replaced with an eerie calm. It bowed its head in a gesture of submission, and the rumbling voice inside Kael’s mind spoke once more.

You are the ruler now. The dragon has recognized you. Lead, and they will follow.

Kael staggered back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I didn’t… I didn’t want this.”

The dragon’s glowing eyes never left him. Kael knew then that the crown had marked him. It was no longer a simple relic; it was a force, a binding power that connected him to everything and everyone that had worn it before.

"Kael," Lyra whispered, her voice filled with awe and fear. "What did you do?"

Before Kael could answer, a low rumble echoed from the depths of the ruins. A second, more terrifying sound joined it—thunderous footsteps, the weight of something enormous approaching.

A black silhouette appeared through the mist, tall and menacing. It was a figure clad in dark armor, a massive warhammer resting on his shoulder. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but Kael could sense the power radiating from him. This was no ordinary warrior.

"The Oathbound," Kael muttered.

The figure stepped forward, and the Oathbound knight’s voice resonated across the battlefield. “The time has come, Kael of Valmere. You have awakened the legacy of Eldrith. The kingdom’s enemies are upon us. And you, crowned one, will have to answer for the sins of your predecessors.”

Kael didn’t have time to respond. A second figure emerged from the shadows—this one a woman with fiery red hair, eyes gleaming with a cruel light. She wore dark robes embroidered with silver symbols Kael didn’t recognize.

“The crown is mine,” the woman declared. Her voice was both melodic and terrifying, carrying the weight of years spent plotting. “I have waited for centuries, Kael. You cannot control what you do not understand.”

The Oathbound knight raised his hammer, and the ground shook with the force of his movements. “You will not take it from him,” he growled. “The curse binds him now.”

Kael felt the weight of the crown grow heavier on his head, its power drawing him into an unseen battle between light and shadow. The enemies had arrived, and it seemed there was no escape.

Lyra stepped forward, her eyes narrowed in determination. “So, what now? Do we fight? Or do we run?”

Kael’s gaze flickered to the dragon, which stood behind him, its massive wings unfurled and poised for battle. He could feel the connection between them—the unspoken bond that the crown had forged. This creature, this ancient beast, was his to command.

But the weight of the decision pressed on him. He could feel the forces around him—forces that would not rest until they had claimed the crown, and Kael with it.

“We fight,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his heart. “But this time, we fight on our terms.”

The dragon roared, the sound splitting the night, and Kael raised his sword. The battle for Eldrith, and the fate of the Cursed Crown, had only just begun.