The gates of the Ashdeep loomed like the maw of a dead god—jagged, vast, and humming with forbidden power.
Elaria stood before them, her fingers brushing the hilt of her sword. Beside her, Kael's breath smoked the air, his dragon form restless beneath his skin.
They had marched for seven days across ravaged plains and twisted forests. Behind them came the remnants of Raventhorn's army: loyal knights, rogue mages, broken beasts once thought extinct.
This was not an army meant to conquer.
This was a funeral procession for a god.
The gates recognized her.
They opened with a groan that shook the ground, shadows curling inward to make way for the queen who bled prophecy and flame.
Elaria stepped into the dark.
Kael followed.
Inside, the world was wrong.
Gravity twisted. Sound echoed backward. The deeper they walked, the more the walls shimmered with memory—scenes from the First Dragon War replayed in smoke and blood.
Kael paused at one: his ancestors, roaring flame down onto cities that begged for mercy.
"We were monsters," he said.
Elaria reached for his hand.
"So were they."
He didn't pull away.
Hours passed. Or years.
Time did not obey in the Ashdeep.
They made camp near a river that flowed upward. Elaria sat alone, watching the water spiral into the void above.
Kael approached, silent.
He knelt beside her, touching her bare shoulder. "You haven't spoken since the gate."
"I hear voices in the walls."
"Ignore them. They want to make you doubt."
She turned, looking him over—scarred, exhausted, golden eyes dimmed but not dead.
"Make love to me."
His gaze searched hers. "Here? Now?"
She nodded. "If I die in this pit, I want your body in mine one more time."
No more words.
They stripped beneath the void-sky. Her hands ran over his chest, mouth tracing old battle lines.
He lifted her onto his lap, the heat of his arousal pressing into her thighs.
She sank down on him with a moan.
They moved slowly, desperately, as if defying the end.
His hands held her hips like she might vanish.
She bit his neck, marked him with fire.
Their cries echoed through the cave, awakening something in the deep.
They dressed again in silence.
Neither spoke of what stirred beneath.
The next day, they reached the pit.
The Hollowborne's prison.
A massive crater, ringed in obsidian spires and ancient dragon bones. Magic pulsed from its center—a heartbeat not of flesh, but divinity.
At its edge stood Selyra.
Still beautiful.
Still dead.
Her eyes bled shadow.
"Little sister," she purred.
Kael stepped forward, flame licking his lips.
"You're not her."
"But I remember how you tasted, dragon."
Elaria drew her blade. "Then choke on the memory."
The final battle began.
Selyra summoned specters of the past—fallen queens, traitorous kings, every failure Elaria had buried.
Kael turned full dragon, a beast of black flame and jagged gold.
Elaria fought through illusions, cutting down ghosts with a fury born of grief and defiance.
Then Selyra whispered a name.
Their mother's.
The ghost of the Dragon Queen appeared.
Elaria faltered.
The ghost smiled, lips stitched shut.
Kael screamed from above, "It's not real!"
Too late.
The ghost struck.
Elaria fell.
Darkness.
Then light.
A dream again—but different. This one was hers.
Selyra appeared, no longer monstrous, but as she once was. Braiding Elaria's hair. Singing old songs.
"We could have ruled together," she whispered.
Elaria stood, sword in hand.
"I don't want the throne. I want you to rest."
She drove the blade through the dream.
The illusion bled.
Elaria woke.
She rose from the pit's edge, face burned, soul cracking.
Kael roared in dragonform, holding back the Hollowborne's true body—now a monstrous wyrm of smoke and teeth, wings that tore the fabric of reality.
Elaria joined him.
They fought in tandem.
Steel and fire.
Heart and fury.
She climbed its back, leapt from spine to spine, driving her blade into its skull.
Kael struck from the sky with divine fire.
The Hollowborne shrieked.
The cave collapsed.
Silence.
Dust.
Then movement.
Kael crawled from rubble, broken but breathing.
Elaria followed, bloodied, her crown cracked.
The Hollowborne was gone.
Selyra's body lay crumpled at the pit's center—no longer possessed. Just a sister. Just a girl.
Elaria knelt beside her, touched her face.
"Sleep now. I'll keep the nightmares this time."
She wept.
They left the Ashdeep at dawn.
The army waited in stunned silence.
Kael raised Elaria's hand.
"The Hollowborne is dead. The Ashdeep closed. The queen returns."
But Elaria said nothing.
She looked up at the sun, brighter than it had ever been.
And whispered, "I am not queen anymore. I am something else."
That night, they made love without fear.
No darkness to chase.
Only firelight and quiet.
Kael worshipped her body slowly—tongue tracing every mark, every scar. She moaned as he kissed lower, as he tasted her like holy water.
She rode him with purpose, hips rolling, eyes locked to his.
He came with her name on his lips.
She collapsed against him, breathless.
"You are my kingdom," she said.
And he replied, "Then I'll burn for you forever."