Dragon King POV
The fire bent.
Not flared.
Not guttered.
Bent—subtly, unmistakably—like a knee lowering before something it remembered.
I felt it before I saw it.
A tightening behind my eyes. A pressure along the ancient brands etched into my bones when I took the crown. The wards bound to my bloodline—wards that had held steady through wars, rebellions, and the slow decay of empires—shuddered as if a great weight had shifted upon the world.
The braziers lining the throne hall leaned inward.
Every flame.
Every single one.
I rose slowly from the obsidian throne, the crown of living fire and bone adjusting atop my head as if unsettled. The murmuring council did not notice—not yet. They never sensed these things until it was far too late. Lords and ladies wrapped in silk and steel,
