Third person point of view
The Dragon King had ruled for four centuries. His people called him beautiful beyond words,
broad-shouldered, bronze-skinned, his eyes so deep they seemed to read the soul itself. His
voice could soothe rage, still storms, and inspire loyalty. Yet, for all his wisdom, he bore a single
flaw: he trusted too easily. He was blind to betrayal when it came in the shape of love.
Tonight, the Jade Spire waited for him, hushed and trembling. The wedding chamber blazed red
and gold, lanterns swaying above marble pillars. Beyond the arched windows, the city glittered
on the bay, a thousand eyes watching, a thousand hearts expecting celebration.
At the altar, the Dragon King stood in ceremonial armor. The breastplate fit poorly over his
scholar's frame, but he wore it without complaint, his trembling fingers laced as if holding a
prayer. His gaze never left his bride.
Mira stood unveiled. Dark as river stone in lamplight, simple in her gown, black pendant resting
low on her chest. She should have looked meek against the grandeur of the chamber, but her
presence cut like steel. The First Empress sat three steps below, her face tight, as though she
sensed danger yet could not speak it aloud.
They spoke the vows. The chamber held its breath. The Dragon King's lips curved with quiet
faith, the faith that love could never harm him.
Mira's hand lifted to the pendant. The chain trembled. Metal unfolded like a serpent's fang, the
dagger sleek and black. Before the court could gasp, she drove it into his chest. The ill-fitting
breastplate split like parchment. Golden blood burst across the marble, hissing where it fell. His
eyes widened, not in fear, but in disbelief.
For a heartbeat, he searched her face, desperate for an explanation, a mistake, some mercy in
her eyes. None came.
She twisted the blade. Blood sprayed, splattering the First Vizier, who collapsed as though struck
himself. Nobles froze, unable to move. Guards raised weapons, but the ancient law forbade
them from shedding royal blood. The chamber remained paralyzed.Mira leaned close, whispering words only he could hear:
"You received a warning. You never listened."
Pain roared through him, but sharper was the shattering of trust. His breath caught; his lips
formed her name, silent. Then rage boiled in his chest. With a roar that cracked the ceiling, his
body transformed.
The Dragon King unfurled into his true self: a dragon of molten bronze, wings stretching to the
pillars, eyes blazing. He was terrible and divine, and yet still heartbreakingly human beneath the
scales.
Mira did not flinch. Her dagger pulsed with black fire, guided by the promise whispered to her
long ago by a witch doctor: Bring me the heart of the Dragon King, and you will be the most
powerful of all.
Steel met scale. Flames erupted blue, red, violet. Marble cracked and smoked beneath his
blood. Shards of bone and bronze rained like meteors; a wing tore through stained glass and
tumbled into the bay. The city screamed below as fire rained from the Spire, consuming streets
and families alike.
The Dragon King staggered, his eyes still fixed on Mira, not with hatred, but with the wounded
plea of a man betrayed by the only love he believed in.
At last, his body faltered. He collapsed upon the altar, scales splitting, breath ragged. Mira
wrenched the dagger free. Veins that had darkened her skin faded to ash as the weapon
clattered into the basin. Nobles remained on their knees, unable to rise. Empress clung to her
throne; horror etched into her silence.
The Dragon King's roar rose one last time. His chest cracked open with light. With the last of his
strength, he cast his golden heart into the unseen world. It vanished in a storm of fire and wind,
carried beyond sight, beyond reach.
Mira's smile faltered. Her eyes widened in fury. The very prize she had betrayed him for, the
heart that would have crowned her the highest witch in history, was gone.
Wind howled through shattered windows. Shards scattered like stars. The chamber stank of
smoke and blood. Mira turned, stepping through the ruin as if through a garden, her smile
returning, cold and unapologetic.
At the threshold, she paused, glancing back once at the ruin of the king.
"He never saw it coming," she said.Her footsteps echoed into silence. The city burned. The court remained paralyzed. And
somewhere far beyond the palace walls, the Dragon King's heart still beat.