Chapter 18.
1421 Words
The night was unnervingly silent. The battlefield had been left behind, but its echoes still lingered in the air, carried by the scent of blood and the distant cries of the wounded. The rebel camp was subdued, every breath laced with exhaustion and grief.
Evelynn drifted into sleep, and as soon as her mind slipped away, she found herself somewhere else—deep in the void of her shared bond with the Dragon.
The massive creature lay before her, his emerald eyes dimmed, his body weakened from battle.
“You suffered because of me,” she whispered, guilt gnawing at her.
“We are bound, Evelynn. What I endure, you endure.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, softer than usual.
“You can sever the bond,” the Dragon offered, his tone laced with sorrow. “You do not have to carry this weight.”
Evelynn hesitated, staring at the being that had become more than a guide—he was part of her now, as much as her magic or her heart.
“No,” she said, steady and sure. “I trust this bond. I trust you. The prophecy is real, and I will see it through. Derek falls first. Then Harold.”
The Dragon exhaled, a deep, knowing sound. “Then be ready, child. The worst is yet to come.”
Evelynn jolted awake, her body aching, her mind sharp with new resolve. As she moved, she felt it—the Dragon’s pain, his fatigue. Eric was there instantly, his hand gripping hers.
“You’re still weak,” he said. His voice was soft, but his eyes carried the weight of all they had endured.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, though she wasn’t sure how true that was.
Across the camp, Axel sat at Jasmine’s side, his face shadowed with anger and grief. She was unconscious, bandaged but pale, her wounds severe. When Axel finally lifted his gaze, it wasn’t directed at the enemy—it was locked onto Eric, blazing with accusation.
“You should have protected her,” Axel spat, his voice raw. “Instead, you threw everything away for that damn Dragon.”
Eric tensed. Evelynn’s stomach twisted.
And for the first time, Axel did not hold back.
The tension that had simmered between them for weeks finally ignited into a full-blown storm.
“You let her get hurt,” Axel seethed, stepping closer to Eric. “You let all of them get hurt because you couldn’t focus on anything but Evelynn and that damn prophecy.”
Eric didn’t flinch. “If the Dragon had died, Evelynn would have died. If Evelynn had died, the prophecy would have died. And then we all would have lost.”
Axel laughed bitterly. “And that’s all that matters, right? The prophecy. Not the rebels. Not Jasmine. Not us. My sister might die because she tried to help you!”
“That’s not true,” Evelynn interjected, but Axel turned on her, his eyes dark with betrayal.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” His voice was lower now, quieter—but it cut deeper than any blade. “Ever since he showed up, you’ve been different. And not in a way that’s saved us.”
Eric’s hands clenched into fists. “Say what you really want to say, Axel.”
“You’re not one of us,” Axel spat. “You never were. You just showed up, took over, and made everything about you and her.”
The words landed hard. Callum stepped between them, his face lined with grief, his presence a reminder of what they’d lost. Jasmine stirred weakly behind Axel, whispering his name, and for now—that was enough to stop him from throwing the first punch.
But the damage was done.
That night, as the camp tried to mend itself, the Dragon spoke again. His voice resonated through everyones mind, to weak to speak aloud.
“Derek is not finished.”
The words rippled through them like an icy wind. The Dragon’s massive form lay curled at the edge of the camp, his breathing labored, his wounds barely beginning to heal.
“He has grown stronger than I expected,” the Dragon admitted. “There is something unnatural at work. Something older than him… older than even me.”
Evelynn shivered.
“What do you mean?” Eric asked.
“The war is no longer about armies. Derek has tapped into something far worse than strength—he is drawing power from something hidden. Something dark.”
No one spoke. But deep down, they knew—this was only the beginning.
Soon the war council was a mess of frayed tempers and exhausted bodies.
“We need time,” Eric said, his voice calm but firm. “Time to understand what we’re up against.”
“We don’t have time,” Axel snapped.
Evelynn spoke before another argument could break out. “Then we need allies. Ogres, elves, anyone willing to stand against Harold and Derek.”
Rowan, grim-faced, nodded. “The elves have been in hiding for years, but they might listen.”
Callum, who had barely spoken since the battle, finally looked up. “We should also train. We all need to be stronger.”
Despite the tension, there was agreement. They needed a plan. And for the first time in days, it felt like they had one.
That night, Evelynn sat alone in her tent, lost in thought. The fire outside flickered against the canvas, casting shadows that danced like ghosts.
Eric entered quietly. He didn’t speak at first—just stood there, watching her.
“I almost died,” she murmured.
His exhale was sharp, controlled. “I know.”
“I don’t regret saving the Dragon.”
“I don’t either.”
Silence stretched between them. Then, she looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time since he showed up, she knew.
She reached for his hand. “I was scared, Eric. I let doubt in. I let Axel—” She hesitated, guilt curling in her chest. “I kissed him. And for a moment, I thought maybe this prophecy wasn’t real. Maybe we weren’t real.”
Eric’s body went rigid, but he didn’t pull away.
Evelynn swallowed. “But I was wrong. I choose this. I choose you.”
Eric’s expression softened, but his grip on her hand tightened, like he was afraid to let go. “Then let me prove to you that this is real.”
And then his lips were on hers.
It was not a hesitant kiss, nor was it gentle—it was desperate, aching, as though he had been waiting for her to say those words forever. Evelynn felt something stir deep within her, something beyond mere magic. It was like their souls were aligning, the bond between them strengthening in a way that could not be undone.
His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and she let him. She wanted to drown in this moment, to let it consume her entirely. Their lips parted only long enough for her to whisper his name, and then he was kissing her again, his touch worshiping, reverent.They melted into one another.
The air around them crackled with energy. Their magic intertwined, fire meeting ice, water bending to the wind. For a moment, the entire world seemed to still, as if fate itself was watching.
As they gave in to the fire between them, gave into each other ,their fate was sealed—not just in prophecy, but in choice.
And outside, unseen to them, the Dragon stirred in his slumber, the emerald glow of his eyes burning brighter.The second half of the prophecy has just taken root.
Morning came too soon.
Eric and Evelynn emerged from her tent together, a silent declaration of what had changed between them. Callum took notice. Rowan raised a brow. Axel, tending to his twin, said nothing at all.
A scout rushed into camp, his breath short, his face pale.
“Derek’s forces,” he gasped. “They’re regrouping.”
That wasn’t unexpected. But then—
“There’s something else,” the scout whispered. “There’s a sorcerer with them.”
Evelynn’s blood ran cold.
Eric’s jaw clenched. “What kind of sorcerer?”
The scout hesitated. “We don’t know yet. But the magic—it’s not like anything we’ve seen before.”
And with that, the war shifted again.
- Writer
