ADAMAH - BOOK I: THE AWAKENING OF THE ASTROS

Chapter 13: The Dragon's Heart and the Hero's Return

I. The Dragon's Heart

Lans spent the night in the cave where he had camped before the battle.

His body was a map of pain: broken ribs, torn muscles, burns on his arms and legs. But he was alive. Miraculously, inexplicably alive.

And he owed it to a flower.

At dawn, with the first light filtering through the rocks, he rose with difficulty. Every movement was agony, but he couldn't stay there. He had a mission to fulfill.

The dragon lay in the clearing, immense and silent. Its scales, which once gleamed like sapphires, now had a dull tone, as if life had completely extinguished. The black spear was still stuck in its side, a mute witness to an earlier battle.

Lans approached slowly, with respect. Despite everything, that creature was majestic. It had lived centuries, perhaps millennia. It had seen kingdoms rise and fall. And now it lay there, thanks to his sword.

"I'm sorry," Lans murmured, though he didn't really know why he said it.

He searched for the entrance to the chest, where he knew the heart must be. With his sword, he opened the flesh and scales, working carefully, almost reverently.

And then he saw it.

The dragon's heart was not a b****y organ, as he had imagined. It was a gem. Immense, the size of his head, of a deep purple that seemed to contain a universe within. It pulsed with its own light, slow and rhythmic, like an eternal heartbeat.

Lans held it in his hands. It was warm, alive. He could feel its power running through his arms, an ancient and powerful energy that enveloped him like a cloak.

And then it happened.

The dragon spoke.

Not with its mouth, which remained closed. It was a voice in his mind, an ancient, tired whisper.

"Thank you..."

Lans jumped back, almost dropping the gem. He looked at the dragon, its extinguished eyes, its motionless body.

"How...?"

"My voice lingers in my heart," the whisper replied. "It is the last thing I have left. Listen to me, son of fire."

Lans swallowed, not knowing what to do.

"Who wounded you?" he asked. "Who threw that spear?"

"The soul hunters," the dragon replied. "Servants of the Council of the Abyssals. They seek dragon hearts for their dark rituals. Mine was one of the last."

"The Council of the Abyssals?"

"An ancient order. Fallen sorcerers who crave the power of the Void. They serve Arman, but they also manipulate him. Trust no one, son of fire. The shadow is deeper than you think."

Lans felt a chill.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you are different," said the dragon. "I saw the flower. I saw who you fight for. Love saved you, and love will guide you. Do not forget that."

The voice began to fade, weaker and weaker.

"Take care of my heart. Use it wisely. And when the time comes... remember Thyrm."

"Thyrm," Lans repeated. "That is your name."

"Yes. And now... I will rest."

The whisper faded. The gem stopped pulsing so intensely, becoming a common precious stone, though its inner light still glowed faintly.

Lans held it for a long time, processing what had just happened. Then, carefully, he put it in his backpack, next to Serenity's white flower.

"Thank you, Thyrm," he whispered. "I will not forget you."

And he began the descent of the mountain.

II. The Road Back

The journey back to Isagar took three weeks.

Lans walked slowly, stopping often to rest and let his wounds heal. The dragon's gem, now stored in his backpack, gave off a comforting warmth that eased the pain.

During the long nights of walking, he couldn't stop thinking about Thyrm's words. The Council of the Abyssals. The soul hunters. The shadow deeper than he believed.

What did it all mean? What was its relation to his father? And why had the dragon said Arman was being manipulated?

He found no answers. Only more questions.

But he also thought of Serenity. Her blue eyes, her smile, the flower she had given him. That flower, miraculously, remained fresh, intact, as if time could not touch it.

"I'll be back soon," he whispered each night, looking west. "I promise."

When he finally sighted the towers of Isagar, the sky exploded in fireworks.

They had seen his silhouette from the watchtowers, and the news of his return with the dragon's heart spread like wildfire. The streets were crowded. People cheered his name. Generals formed perfect lines. And high on the balcony, with the iron crown on his brow, Arman Eliot smiled.

III. The Hero's Return

Lans dismounted from his horse and climbed the palace stairs amid cheers. The crowd acclaimed him, women threw flowers, children ran alongside him. He was a hero. The hero Isagar needed.

But he didn't feel like one.

When he stood before his father, he knelt and took the gem from his backpack. The dragon's heart shone under the sun, and a murmur of awe ran through the square.

"Here it is, father," said Lans, his voice firm. "The heart of the blue dragon. As I promised."

Arman took the gem with trembling hands. For an instant, his eyes lost their usual coldness and shone with something like pride. Or perhaps it was something else. Lans couldn't tell.

"You are worthy," said Arman, raising his voice so all could hear. "You are my heir. The future king of Isagar!"

The crowd burst into applause. Trumpets sounded. Fireworks lit up the sky.

Lans smiled. He did everything expected of him. He accepted the honors, the banquets, the congratulations. But inside, his heart was not there.

It was in a cabin lost in the forest. With a young woman with blue eyes who had given him a flower.

IV. The Feast

That night, Isagar celebrated as it hadn't in years.

The streets filled with tables of food and drink. Musicians played on every corner. People danced, laughed, toasted the hero who had returned. Nobles took turns congratulating Lans, offering him their daughters in marriage, currying his favor.

He endured it all with a polite smile, but his mind was elsewhere.

At one point in the night, he managed to slip away and climbed the castle's highest tower. From there, he looked west. Toward the Galaria Forest. Toward Serenity.

He took out the flower from the pouch and looked at it by moonlight. Still intact, fresh, alive.

"I'll come back," he whispered. "I promise."

"Talking to yourself, son?"

Arman's voice startled him. The king had climbed the tower without his noticing.

"Father," said Lans, quickly hiding the flower. "I just needed a moment of air."

Arman approached and leaned on the parapet, also looking west.

"You have done something great," he said. "The dragon's heart has won you the respect of the entire kingdom. You are the pride of Isagar."

"Thank you, father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

"There is something I want you to know," Arman said at last. "Something I have kept hidden for a long time."

Lans looked at him, expectant.

"Your mother..." Arman began, but stopped.

"What about my mother?"

Arman shook his head.

"It's not the time. Today is your day. Let's celebrate. Tomorrow we'll talk."

He turned and walked away, leaving Lans with more questions than answers.

V. The Emptiness on the Throne

Lans stayed on the tower long after his father left.

Arman's words echoed in his mind. What was he going to say about his mother? Why had he hidden it?

And also Thyrm's words. The Council of the Abyssals. The soul hunters. The deeper shadow.

Something told him his father was involved in all that. That the dragon was right: Arman was not just a tyrant king, he was something more. Something dark.

He looked at the flower once more.

"I need to see you again," he whispered. "You are the only thing that makes sense in all this."

Below, the feast continued. Music, laughter, applause. But Lans did not hear them.

He only heard the beat of his own heart.

And the echo of a promise.

VI. Epilogue: The Divided Heart

That night, while Isagar celebrated, Lans dreamed of Serenity.

He saw her in the garden, with muddy hands and hair wet from the drizzle. He saw her smile, and that smile lit his dream more than any firework.

But he also saw something else.

A shadow. Behind her. A dark figure watching her from the trees.

He wanted to shout, to run, but he couldn't move.

He woke with a start, drenched in sweat.

The white flower, on his nightstand, glowed with a faint light.

"You're in danger," Lans whispered. "And I'm not there to protect you."

He stood and looked out the window. West. Always west.

"I'll come back," he promised once more. "Whatever it costs."

In the cabin, Serenity woke with a start.

She had felt something. A presence. A danger.

She went out to the garden and looked north.

The stars shone. The forest was silent.

But in her heart, a voice whispered her name.

And she smiled, not knowing why.