“I will not translate that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need to.” His gaze drifts from the image to the horizon. “Drathmar was my father.”
The words hit like thunder in my chest. “The god of flame was your father?” I breathe.
His eyes flare, molten and mournful. “I hate that name,” he snaps. “And so did he.”
For a heartbeat, I swear the stars above us flicker in grief. I just stare at him until he exhales, a heavy sound that steams the air between us.
“Long ago,” he says quietly, “before time itself, back when this world was still but a dream, the night sky erupted in living fire. A million stars blazed into being, some to forge distant galaxies, others to hang as guiding constellations. The Creator selected a chosen few to fall like ember-comets, and from their smoldering husks, the first dragons came into the world.”
“I’ve heard that story,” I whisper, “or, at least, a version of it. My mother used to tell me that before the dragons, there was only war, chaos, and death.”
“Yes.” His voice turns grave, resonant. “Abrellia was then a land of ruin, torn apart by endless tribal wars. But with the dragons came life. The earth grew lush and fertile. Awed by these celestial beasts, the tribes believed them to be sent by the Creator to bring peace, to teach, to protect.
“And for nearly three millennia, peace reigned. Dragons and mortals lived as one, raising gleaming cities, shaping magic into wards and wonders, holding back the tides of war. Bound by sacred vow, they guarded the balance of power and ensured no man would rise above the many. That wasbefore the Purging.”
“The Purging,” I echo. “Is that whatB.P.stands for?”
He nods. “Yes. It started when the newly unified nation crowned its first king, paying no heed to the dragons’ warnings against granting absolute power. The young ruler, King Anar, sought their favor. He chose a wife from the wild northern tribes, those who still lived beside the dragons and carried their gifts in their very blood. The dragons chose her, too: Serelis, a northern healer from an ancient family renowned for their foresight and strength.”
“Serelis?!” I gasp in recognition, rifling through my notes until I find her name—the last line of a genealogy. “She was queen of Abrellia?”
“Yes. Under their reign, the kingdom flourished. But absolute power breeds greed, and greed twisted by fear corrupts truth.Unlike his wife, Anar began to distrust the dragons’ wisdom. And not a year after Serelis bore him a son and heir, the Great Purging was declared.
“Dragons, though once revered, were suddenly branded traitors. Rumors spread like wildfire—stolen brides, scorched cities, winged beasts with hearts of shadow. The dragons refused to flee.‘We remain until time ends, or until none of us remain at all,’my father declared. Thus began a twenty-year war.”
My mind whirls, breath shallow. “What happened during the war?”
“Anar’s armies razed nests and hunted dragons to the brink of extinction. Loyal tribes fought back, but blood soaked every valley of Abrellia. Desperate for soldiers, Anar ordered all unmarried maidens to be seized and forced into marriage to begin bearing sons for war.
“In the fifteenth year of the Purging, the captive brides were marched through the Vale—once a village, now the capital—to their forced weddings. Along the way, they began to sing. One voice became hundreds, united in a song so haunting that it was forever after brandedthe Dragon Song.
“Before the first bride could be bound, Queen Serelis returned—consort no longer, but commander of the northern resistance—riding astride the Dragon King himself, leading hundreds of the last dragons. Her voice thundered through the flames:‘Dragons do not bow to the whims of men—and neither will we!’In a storm of fire, the pair reduced the capital to ash and carried as many brides as they could to safety. Then Serelis vanished deep into the northern wilds with what remained of the resistance.”
“And after that?” I whisper.
“I don’t know what happened then.” His wings shift restlessly, scattering starlight. “Only that my father was murdered, and I was cursed… along with the king’s son.”
Keiren.The name burns in my mind. It’s a revelation, a tale of gods and ruin. Yet as much as I’ve learned, the story still offers no clear path to breaking the curse.
“But I thought you made the curse?” I ask, my mind spinning with the overwhelming wealth of new information.
“No. My father did.”
“In the first Trial,” I say quietly. “I had a vision. A prophecy, or maybe a riddle—I’m not sure which.”
Drako lowers his head, eyes bright with curiosity. “Tell me, little flame.”
A shiver runs through me. For all his restraint, he’s still a creature of impossible power. And yet he’s never once harmed me.
I unfold my notes and read aloud, voice trembling in the cold air:
When hope is ash and faith undone,
a heart of thorns and flame must become one.
