Chapter 4
1846 Words
"You would do this?" Kaelor’s voice was raw, laced with pain. "Before all of Vaeloria?"
Xyra stood before the High Council, her heart hammering as she faced the man who had once been her betrothed. The agony in his emerald eyes burned into her, a storm of betrayal and disbelief. Around them, the great hall was deathly silent, the gathered nobles holding their breath as they awaited her response.
She swallowed, her throat tight. "I have no choice." Her voice did not waver, though her soul splintered.
Kaelor stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. "You do. You could fight this. You could fight for us."
A bitter laugh scraped her throat. "Against whom, General Kaelor? My father? My people? The moon goddess themselves?"
She turned then, locking gazes with her father—King Veydris. He sat upon his throne, his face carved from stone, but she saw it. The pain that lingered in his eyes. The silent torment of a man who had given his daughter to an enemy. Not as a warrior. As a prize. The betrayal cut deeper than any blade.
Her wolf howled in protest, the bond she once shared with Kaelor fraying, unraveling like torn threads. It hurt. goodness, it hurts. She clutched her wrist where the sigil still burned, magic pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
She had to do this. Lifting her chin, she faced Kaelor once more. "I, Princess Xyra Vaelthorne, reject the bond that once tied us. I release you from what we were fated to be."
A gasp rippled through the chamber. Kaelor staggered back as if struck. For a moment, all his fury dissolved, leaving nothing but raw, naked heartbreak. Then his wolf surged to the surface, wild, enraged. His body shook under the weight of rejection, veins bulging against his skin as he fought the severance of their souls.
"You think this ends here?" His voice was dark, edged with something dangerous. His gaze snapped to Vaeren, who stood beside her with his usual cold detachment. "You stole her from me."
The Draganthar prince did not blink. "I took what is mine."
The words were spoken so evenly, so carelessly, that they sent a fresh wave of anger through the chamber. Kaelor lunged. The air shifted, a blur of motion, but before he could strike, Vaeren’s guards stepped forward, their dark armor gleaming, weapons drawn in silent warning.
"Enough," the High Priestess commanded. "What has been done cannot be undone."
King Veydris exhaled heavily from his throne. "Take her."
And just like that, it was over. Xyra did not resist as the Draganthar guards moved to flank her. The last thing she saw before they led her away was Kaelor’s face—his pain, his grief, the depth of what they had lost. Her wolf whimpered. But the decision had been made.
As they stepped out of the High Council chambers, the air vibrated with magic. A sudden gust of heat rolled through the courtyard. Xyra turned just in time to see one of Vaeren’s soldiers shift.
The Vyrmguard warrior’s body expanded, dark scales bursting through his skin as his form lengthened. A monstrous, half-dragon warform emerged, scaled, humanoid, with wings that cast a shadow over the stone steps. His eyes burned with molten gold, his breath curling into smoke as he exhaled.
Then the others shifted. Most of the Vyrmguard took their warforms, their shapes varying based on their rank. Some grew wings and claws, their forms built for speed and flight. Others remained grounded, shifting into the massive, wingless behemoths of the Ashenborn—warlords designed for land warfare, their hulking bodies covered in armor-like scales.
Xyra had seen many beasts in her life, but never this. Never dragons in their full, terrifying might. And yet, Vaeren did not shift. His power hummed in the air, controlled, leashed, but never released.
She had never seen a Drakenlord in his true form. No one had. The royals of Draganthar only shifted in battle, their forms so vast, so destructive, that the skies themselves trembled at their ascent.
Xyra’s breath turned shallow as Vaeren stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"Move," he commanded.
Xyra had fought beasts before, but never this.
Never dragons in their might. He simply climbed on one of the dragons as a dragon rider, his power simmering below his skin, leashed, dangerous.
She felt it, like standing beside a storm before it breaks. She did. Slowing climbing on it, this is her first time riding on a dragon
.
.
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Vyrmora, The Capital of Draganthar
The sky burned crimson as their dragon descended upon the volcanic realm. Xyra stood at the edge of the deck, gripping the rail as she took in the sight before her. The sky was a bleeding red canvas above the Emberpeak Spires. Black towers jutted into the sky, overlooking rivers of molten lava. Dragons circled overhead, ancient, colossal.
The people…beautiful and terrible, watched her arrival with contempt. Their scales glistened like gems; their eyes gleamed like gold. She was nothing to them. A wolf among dragons. A beast paraded as a queen. Her pride stiffened her spine. If they expected submission, they would be disappointed.
Vaeren led her toward the Drakarion—the fortress of the Drakenlords. He did not look at her. He didn’t need to. His power commanded her steps.
Its obsidian gates open to reveal a grand hall carved from volcanic stone. The air smelled of spice and embers, the scent of dragonfire lingering in every corner. At the end of the hall, seated upon a throne of dark metal and scaled leather, was Vaeren’s mother.
Queen Lyanna.
She was breathtaking. Her hair was silver fire, cascading in molten strands over her shoulders, her crimson gown adorned with golden dragon sigils. But her beauty was not warm, it was razor-edged, untouchable.
Xyra met her gaze, sensing the immediate dislike.
"Welcome, home son," She smiled at him and then her smile died when her eyes met Xyra's again.
"Thank you, Mother," Vaeren’s smile was tight, forced. It vanished when Seraya spoke.
Her voice was silk wrapped around poison.
"It should have been me beside you, not… this."
Xyra clenched her jaw. Her wolf growled.
But Vaeren smirked, something dark, unreadable.
"And yet, here she stands."
Lyanna eyes narrowed. "Kneel before your queen."
Xyra’s heart pounded, but she held her ground.
"I bow to no one but the Moon Goddess."
Seraya bristled, but the queen silenced her with a hand.
"Don't force her, let her be, she will learn." Lyanna said, voice smooth as steel.
Vaeren watched Xyra closely, but said nothing.
Lyanna’s voice was smooth, but distant. "So the prophecy has brought you here."
Xyra did not answer.
"Your quarters have been prepared," Vaeren said at last, his voice impassive.
She turned to him, amber eyes alight with defiance. "And if I refuse them?"
His lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. "Then you may sleep in the dungeons. The choice is yours."
She hated him then. Hated the ease with which he dismissed her, the sheer arrogance of a man who knew he had already won. She smiles with a slight bow to the Queen then, She turns sharply, storming toward the door. But as she passed him, his voice stopped her.
"You will find no allies here, Xyra."
She hesitated.
His gaze burned into her, golden and unreadable. "The sooner you accept that, the better."
She did not answer. She left him standing there, alone in the firelit chamber, and slammed the doors behind him. The room was massive, carved from volcanic stone, its windows open to the endless sky. Outside, dragons soared through the night, their roars echoing in the wind.
Xyra stood by the fireplace, staring at the sigil on her wrist. The mark had faded, but the bond was still there, like a phantom pressing against her mind, an unwanted tether to the man she despised.
The door opened. She did not turn as Vaeren entered. He said nothing as he strode across the room, removing the golden clasps of his cloak. He did not ask permission to be here. He did not need to. She felt him behind her, his presence suffocating in its silence.
Finally, she faced him. "You expect me to surrender to this?"
His gaze traveled over her, slow, deliberate. "I expect you to accept what is inevitable."
She bared her teeth. "I will never be yours."
A smirk ghosted over his lips. "You already are."
Her wolf snarled. To reject him at this instant, visceral, every fiber of her being recoiling against him. And yet…She felt the heat of him, the massiveness of his presence anchoring her in place. The magic of the bond pulsed between them, something neither of them could ignore.
His golden eyes darkened. "You can fight this as long as you like. It changes nothing."
He moved past her then, toward the great bed carved from obsidian and draped in crimson silk. He did not reach for her. Did not force her.
He merely unfastened his armor, his movements slow, methodical. Waiting. She hated him for it. For his patience. For the way he let her burn in her own defiance. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. This was not over. Not by any means.
"And what if I reject this bond?" Xyra said with pains evident in her pumped neck veins.
"Then do it, if you may," He said without looking at her. “Do you think I want this?”
"It was never meant to be—Us, it was never. A dragon and a wolf, fated by bond and by the Moonfire Pact? It's an abomination. I don't know what the moon goddess or the high priestess or even your committees were thinking that such a bond will stop a war that has been on for centuries being fought by our ancestors." She voices out in extreme anger.
"Are you the gods? If no, I don't have any word to say to you then," He said without looking at her and it somehow felt disrespectful to her too.
She tried to muster insolence, but her voice cracked. "I… I… Princess Xyra Vaelthorne—"
Vaeren closed the distance, his breath brushing against her ear. "You won’t dare."
His voice was low, dangerous but underneath it was something more. Desperation. Fear. A need he could not voice. Silence stretched between them, thick with anger, desire, and something neither was ready to name.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. His gaze burned into her, gold, consuming.
"Then do it," he challenged, but his voice wavered, just for an instant. “Reject the bond, I dare you, little one, I dare you!” He growled in the calmest way possible.
Her lips parted, but the words caught in her throat. Because she couldn’t. Her wolf wouldn’t let her.
And somewhere deep, grief…neither would she. The bond was not chains. It was on fire. And it had already begun to consume them both.
- Writer
