Seven. How had it gotten so bad?
The fire in his chest stirred, responding to his rising anxiety. Heat prickled along his spine, and he fought to keep his expression neutral.
“We need stronger patrol rotations,” Jarek interjected, his green eyes flicking to Draven with concern. “I can coordinate with the flight commanders?—”
“That won’t solve the underlying problem.” Veyra’s interruption was smooth, her pale blue eyes focusing on Draven with a piercing intensity that made his skin crawl. “They’re not just testing our defenses. They’re testing our leadership.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Draven’s vision wavered, the conference room stretching and distorting at the edges. The voices around the table became distant echoes as his dragon roared in his mind, flames licking at his consciousness.
Weak. Failing. Not fit to rule.
“Your Majesty?” Veyra’s voice cut through the haze, concerned and gentle. “Are you alright?”
No. Nothing is alright. Nothing has been alright for months.
The fire madness clawed deeper, whispers of inadequacy and failure flooding his thoughts. The room tilted slightly, shadows dancing in his peripheral vision where none should exist. His hands gripped the table edge so hard the wood creaked under the pressure.
“Perhaps we should take a brief recess—” Queen Serenya began.
“No.” Draven’s word cracked like a whip. Every eye in the room fixed on him, and he could feel their judgment and their doubt. “Continue the report.”
But Councilor Thomas’s words became white noise as the episode intensified. Draven’s dragon thrashed against his mental barriers, seeking release and seeking destruction. His vision tunneled, the faces around the table becoming grotesque distortions of concern and suspicion.
They see it. They all see how broken you are.
“The eastern border requires attention as well,” Veyra continued, her voice a lifeline in the chaos. “But I believe these challenges aren’t insurmountable. Not with the right... support.”
She leaned forward slightly, her expression radiating understanding and compassion. “Sometimes the strongest leaders need someone who truly comprehends their burden. Someone who can offer genuine partnership.”
Her words wrapped around him like a soothing balm, but something in Jarek’s expression tightened. Queen Serenya’sfingers drummed once against the table—a warning sign Draven’s fevered mind barely registered.
Veyra understands. Veyra sees the struggle and doesn’t judge.
But the fire wouldn’t be contained. Heat crawled up his throat, and he tasted copper. The walls seemed to press closer, the crimson sunlight becoming threatening rather than warming.
“I think that’s enough for today.” Draven pushed back from the table with more force than necessary, the chair scraping against the stone floor. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”
“But Your Majesty, we haven’t finished?—”
“Tomorrow.” His voice brooked no argument, the authority he’d wielded since sixteen coating every syllable despite the chaos in his mind.
The council members filed out in respectful silence, though Draven caught the worried glances exchanged between them. Veyra paused at the doorway, her expression soft with what appeared to be genuine concern.
“If you need anything, Your Majesty... I’m here.”
Then she was gone, leaving only the scent of expensive perfume and something else—something that made his dragon pace restlessly.
Five minutes later, Draven’s private chambers felt like a sanctuary as he collapsed into the leather chair by his massive fireplace. The familiar space—dark wood, rich fabrics, and the subtle scent of sea salt—usually grounded him. Today, even here, the madness lingered like smoke in his lungs.
Eighteen years. Eighteen years of ruling, and now I can’t even get through a simple council meeting.
The soft knock on his door came exactly when he expected it. “Enter.”
His mother swept in first, her regal bearing intact despite the worry lines etched deeper around her eyes. Jarek followed, closing the door behind them with a soft click that felt final.
“That was the worst one yet.” Jarek’s bluntness would have been insubordination from anyone else. From his oldest friend, it was the brutal honesty Draven desperately needed.
“I’m aware.” Draven didn’t lift his head from his hands. “The episodes are getting stronger. More frequent.”
