Bound By Dragon Blood

Chapter 6: The Silver Flare

​The cold was the first thing Lyra felt.

​In the Ash-Lands, the temperature plummeted at dawn as the volcanic vents pulled the heat back into the earth. The furs Valerius had draped over them were thick, but they couldn't replace the scorching warmth of his body. She shifted, her muscles screaming in protest. Every inch of her felt tender, a map of the previous night’s intensity written in bruises and the lingering scent of smoke.

​Valerius was already awake. He stood near the mouth of the cave, silhouetted against the grey, hazy light. He was fully dressed in his leather under-armor, his hands steady as he sharpened his obsidian blade with a whetstone. The rhythmic shink-shink-shink was the only sound in the cavern.

​He didn't turn around, but his voice cut through the silence. "You’re awake."

​Lyra sat up, clutching the furs to her chest. She felt a strange, pulsing sensation at the base of her throat. "What happened? After...?"

​Valerius stopped sharpening. He turned, and for the first time, Lyra saw a flicker of something that wasn't triumph in his amber eyes. It looked like calculation. Perhaps even a trace of fear.

​"You survived the fire," he said, walking toward her. He knelt by the furs, his hand reaching out to tilt her head back. His touch was no longer the frantic, burning heat of the night before; it was cool, controlled, and intensely possessive.

​"Look at yourself, Lyra."

​He held up a polished piece of his armor. Lyra looked into the reflection and gasped. At the base of her throat, where her pulse beat most frantically, was a glowing silver mark. It looked like a tiny, intricate dragon curled in a circle, its tail biting its own head.

​"The Brand," she whispered, her fingers hovering over the skin. "But yours is red. Why is mine silver?"

​"Because you are not dragon-born," Valerius replied, his jaw tightening. "You are a tribute. Usually, when a Prince takes a tribute during the heat of the blood, the woman... she doesn't survive. The fire consumes her from the inside out. But you... you didn't just survive it. You absorbed it."

​He stood up abruptly, pacing the small space of the cave. "I’ve never seen a silver brand. In the ancient texts, they spoke of 'Soul-Binders'—women who could channel the dragon’s fire without being burned by it. But those are myths. Fairytales meant to keep the slaves hoping."

​Lyra stood up, ignoring the way her legs wobbled. She pulled her torn tunic around her, the leather now feeling like a second skin. "Is that what I am? A myth?"

​"I don't know what you are," Valerius snapped, his eyes flashing. "But I know that if my brothers see that mark, they won't just want to kill you. They will want to dissect you. A woman who can hold the fire of a Prince is the ultimate weapon."

​Before Lyra could respond, a sudden, sharp pain exploded behind her eyes. She gasped, clutching her head, as her vision suddenly shifted. She wasn't in the cave anymore. She was high above, looking down at the Ash-Lands through eyes that saw the world in shades of heat and shadow. She could see the magma veins pulsing like glowing red arteries beneath the grey dunes.

​She saw a group of riders—four of them, mounted on armored drakes. They were less than a mile away, closing in on the cave. One of them wore the emerald green of Prince Kaelen.

​"They're coming," Lyra gasped, her voice sounding hollow, as if it were coming from a great distance.

​Valerius was at her side in an instant, his hands gripping her shoulders. "What did you say?"

​"Kaelen. He’s here. Four riders. North-west, behind the Obsidian Spine. I can... I can see them through Ignis’s eyes."

​Valerius went deathly still. He looked at her eyes—no longer grey, but glowing with a fierce, metallic silver light.

​"The bond," he breathed. "You’ve linked with my dragon."

​He didn't waste another second. He grabbed his helm and his heavy black sword. "If you can see them, can you feel where Ignis is?"

​Lyra closed her eyes again, reaching out with that strange, new sense. She felt a vibration—a deep, rhythmic thrumming that matched her own heartbeat. "He’s circling above. He’s... he’s angry. He wants to descend."

​"Tell him to wait," Valerius commanded, dragging her toward the cave entrance. "If he shows himself now, they’ll call in the imperial drakes. We have to take them on the ground."

​They emerged from the cave just as the first of the emerald-clad riders crested the nearby dune. The riders pulled their drakes to a halt, the beasts hissing and snapping at the air.

​Prince Kaelen rode at the front, his green dragon-scale armor shimmering in the morning light. He looked down at them with a smirk that turned into a snarl when he saw the state of Lyra’s clothes—and the way Valerius was standing protectively in front of her.

​"I expected to find a corpse, brother," Kaelen shouted, his voice echoing across the dunes. "But it seems you’ve been busy playing with your new pet instead of finishing the Hunt."

​"Turn back, Kaelen," Valerius warned, his blade beginning to hum with black fire. "The girl is claimed. The Southern provinces are mine."

​Kaelen’s eyes shifted to Lyra, and then he saw it. The silver glow at her throat. His expression changed from mockery to pure, unadulterated greed.

​"A Soul-Binder," Kaelen whispered, his voice carrying on the wind. "The legend is true. Valerius, you fool. You think you can keep a prize like that for yourself? That girl belongs to the Empire. She belongs to the Throne."

​"She belongs to me," Valerius roared.

​"Kill the Prince!" Kaelen ordered his men. "Bring me the girl alive! I want her broken and bound by sunset!"

​The four riders spurred their drakes forward. Valerius met the first one head-on, his sword shearing through the drake’s neck in a single, brutal arc. But the other three were circling, their spears leveled at Lyra.

​Lyra felt the silver fire in her blood surge. It wasn't fear this time; it was a cold, calculated rage. She felt Ignis screaming in her mind, a call for destruction.

​She didn't have a sword. She didn't have armor. But as the closest rider lunged for her, Lyra raised her hand. She didn't think about what she was doing; she simply let the silver light flow through her.

​A bolt of silver lightning erupted from her palm. It wasn't the orange-red of dragon-fire; it was a pure, blinding white. It struck the rider’s drake square in the chest, the beast exploding into a cloud of ash and bone before it could even scream.

​The world went silent. Even Valerius stopped fighting, staring at Lyra with wide, stunned eyes.

​Lyra stood in the center of the dunes, her hand still smoking, the silver mark at her throat burning like a star. She looked at Kaelen, her voice no longer her own.

​"I am not a pet," she said, the air around her beginning to vibrate with power. "And I am not your prize."