“The Shadow Clan created the darkness inside me,” I say slowly, “as punishment.”
“Punishment for what?”
“For loving a Fire-Bringer.”
The words drop into silence. Auren’s expression doesn’t change—he’s too controlled for that—but something flickers in his eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or calculation.
“Explain.”
I don’t look at Nasyra. Can’t look at her. If I see her face while I say this, I’ll lose my nerve.
“The Shadow Clan’s philosophy isn’t just ideology—it’s law, in their territories. Dragons who form attachments to Fire-Bringers are considered traitors to their kind. And three centuries ago, I committed the ultimate betrayal.” A breath. “I fell in love with one. Planned to claim her. Planned to spend eternity treating her as my equal instead of my property.”
“And they found out.”
“They found out.” The memories press against me, dark and heavy. “They took her. Used her blood in a ritual designed to fuel the magic that would punish me. And when I tore through their forces to reach her—killed everyone who stood between me and that altar—they made sure I’d suffer for it.”
“The shadows,” Auren says.
“The shadows.” I finally let myself look at Nasyra. She’s staring at me with an expression I can’t read, her hands gripped tightly in her lap. “They were designed to consume me slowly. To make me suffer for centuries before finally killing me. A reminder, every day, of what happens to dragons who forget their place.”
“And the Fire-Bringer you loved?” Auren’s voice is carefully neutral.
“I was too late to save her. She died on that altar while I fought my way to her. And I’ve carried that failure for hundreds of years.”
Silence fills the library. The weight of grief presses down on my shoulders, heavier than any physical burden.
“Thank you.” Auren’s voice is quiet now. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything.” He gathers his notes, his movements precise. “Lakhu isn’t just trying to reclaim a weapon. This is personal for him—his father’s creation, his clan’s enemy. He’ll make mistakes because of that. Mistakes we can exploit.”
He heads for the door, pausing at the threshold.
“I’ll give you two a moment.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with Nasyra and the weight of everything I’ve just admitted.
She doesn’t speak immediately.
I watch her process what she’s heard, the emotions flickering across her face too fast to track. Confusion. Anger. Something that might be grief, or might be the echo of memories she can’t quite grasp.
The silence stretches. Outside the library windows, the sun has begun to set, painting the mountains. Beautiful. Indifferent to the turmoil happening within these walls.
“The Fire-Bringer you loved.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You were talking about me.”
“Yes.”
“They punished you—created whatever is inside you—because of me.”
“Because of what I felt for you.” The distinction matters. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Nasyra. You didn’t ask to be targeted. Didn’t ask for any of this.”
“But if you hadn’t loved me?—“
“Then I would have spent five centuries without the only happiness I’ve ever known.” The words come out rougher than I intended. “I don’t regret loving you. I regret failing to save you. Those aren’t the same thing.”
She flinches. The words have hit something—some deep wound she’s been carrying without knowing its shape.
