POV: Serina
The ground was trying to eat me.
I looked down in horror as black mud wrapped around my ankles like fingers, pulling me down. One second I was running across the Ashlands, the next I was sinking into cursed ground.
"No, no, no!" I thrashed, trying to pull free, but the mud only gripped harder. It was already up to my knees.
I'd been traveling for a day and a half, barely stopping to rest. The Ashlands were even worse than the stories. Everywhere I looked, I saw bones—massive dragon skulls bigger than houses, ribcages you could walk through, scattered across dead gray earth. The air tasted like smoke and something bitter that made my throat burn.
And now I was going to die before I even reached the shrine.
Finn doesn't have time for this!
Panic gave me strength. I grabbed a nearby rock—one of the few solid things in this cursed place—and pulled with everything I had. My legs screamed in pain as the mud fought to keep me. For a terrible moment, I thought I wouldn't make it.
Then, with a wet sucking sound, the ground released me.
I crawled onto solid rock, gasping and shaking. The mud had left black stains on my legs that burned like acid. I grabbed my waterskin with trembling hands and poured water over them, hissing at the pain.
Get up, I told myself. Finn is dying. Move!
I forced myself to stand and kept walking.
The sun was setting, painting the dead land in shades of red and orange. In the distance, I could finally see it—a massive black mountain rising from the Ashlands like a broken tooth. And carved into its side, barely visible in the dying light, was the Dragon's Shrine.
My heart pounded. I was close. So close.
That's when I heard the howling.
I spun around, and my blood turned to ice.
Six wolves emerged from behind a pile of dragon bones. But these weren't normal wolves. Their fur was gray and patchy, falling off in clumps. Their eyes glowed sickly yellow, and smoke leaked from their mouths with every breath. Ash-wolves—creatures corrupted by old magic, driven mad by the toxic power that soaked this place.
And they were staring right at me.
"Nice doggies?" I tried, taking a slow step backward.
The largest one snarled, showing teeth like broken glass.
Then they charged.
I ran.
My lungs burned and my legs ached, but I ran like my life depended on it—because it did. The wolves were faster, their paws barely making sound on the dead ground. I could hear them getting closer, smell the rotten-meat stink of their breath.
Think, Serina! Do something!
I had magic. Barely any, but some. In the slums, I'd used it to pick locks and hide in shadows—tiny, worthless tricks that marked me as the weakest kind of magic user. But maybe, just maybe...
I spun around, thrust my hand forward, and screamed, "Stop!"
A pathetic spark of light shot from my palm. It was about as impressive as a candle flame.
The wolves didn't even slow down.
Great. I'm going to die because I have the magical power of a wet match.
The lead wolf leaped at me, jaws open wide. I threw myself to the side and felt claws rake across my arm. Pain exploded through me, and I hit the ground hard. Blood soaked through my sleeve.
The wolves circled me, growling. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
I was dead.
But then something strange happened. The wolf closest to me stopped growling. Its glowing eyes focused on my bleeding arm, and it took a step back. Then another. The other wolves did the same, whining and backing away like I was suddenly dangerous.
What...?
They turned and ran, disappearing into the dead landscape as quickly as they'd appeared.
I sat there, bleeding and confused, trying to understand what just happened. Why would they run from me? I was nobody. Nothing.
Unless...
I looked at my bleeding arm. The blood was normal red, but in the fading light, I could swear I saw a faint shimmer to it. Like there was something in my blood that scared those creatures.
Later, I decided. Figure it out later. Finn is dying.
I tore a piece of my shirt and wrapped it around the claw marks. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Then I picked up my bag and continued toward the mountain.
By the time I reached the shrine, night had fallen completely. The temple was even more massive up close—ancient black stone covered in carvings of dragons and battles. The entrance was a huge archway, dark and forbidding.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Immediately, the air around me exploded with light.
Magic wards activated all at once—brilliant, deadly spells that shot toward me like arrows. I screamed and threw my arms up, certain I was about to be burned alive.
But the spells stopped.
Right in front of me, hanging in the air, were a dozen different killing spells. They sparked and crackled, close enough that I could feel the heat. But they didn't touch me.
Slowly, carefully, I lowered my arms. The spells hovered for another moment, then faded away like smoke.
The wards had let me pass.
How?
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my bag, but I forced myself to walk through the archway. The inside of the shrine was pitch black. I fumbled in my bag for the small candle I'd brought and lit it with a match.
The candlelight revealed a massive chamber. The walls were covered in more dragon carvings, and the ceiling was so high I couldn't see it. But what drew my eye was the center of the room.
There, sitting on a raised platform, was an enormous seal made of black stone. Thick chains of glowing silver wrapped around it, pulsing with power that made my teeth ache. And right in the middle, on a stone pedestal, sat a simple bowl.
I walked closer, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. As I approached, I saw words carved into the stone base. They were old—so old I almost couldn't read them—but I managed to make them out:
SPEAK NO NAME. SHED NO BLOOD. BREAK NO SEAL.
A warning. A clear, obvious warning that any smart person would listen to.
But I thought about Finn lying in our shack, his veins turning black, slowly dying. I thought about his last words: "The dragon is real. And he's been waiting for you."
Three days. That's all he had. And I'd already wasted one and a half getting here.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the empty shrine. "But I don't have a choice."
I pulled out my knife—the same small blade I used to steal food and cut purses. My hand was steady as I pressed it against my palm. One quick slice, and blood welled up, dripping onto the floor.
I held my bleeding hand over the bowl and let the blood fall.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Please," I whispered into the darkness. "Please save my brother. I'll do anything. Pay any price. Just please... let him live."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the blood in the bowl started to glow.
Bright red light filled the chamber, and the chains around the seal began to shake. The entire shrine trembled. Dust and small stones fell from the ceiling. The glowing grew brighter and brighter until I had to shield my eyes.
The chains screamed—an actual sound of metal tearing—and shattered into a thousand pieces.
The seal cracked down the middle with a sound like thunder.
And from the darkness behind it, something moved.
My candle went out, plunging me into complete blackness. But I could feel something massive approaching. The air grew hot, and I heard breathing—deep, powerful breaths that didn't sound human.
Then came a voice. Deep and ancient, filled with rage and something else I couldn't name:
"Finally."
The temperature in the shrine spiked. Black flames erupted from the broken seal, illuminating the chamber in dark fire. And in the center of those flames, I saw him.
A dragon.
Massive, covered in scales like midnight, with eyes that glowed like molten gold. He was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I'd ever seen. His gaze locked onto me, and I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
"After a thousand years," the dragon's voice rumbled through my bones, "a little thief finally breaks my chains."
The flames around him condensed, swirling tighter and tighter until they formed the shape of a man. When the fire cleared, standing before me was someone who looked human—tall, with silver-white hair and those same burning gold eyes.
He smiled, but it wasn't friendly.
"Tell me, little thief," he said softly, taking a step toward me. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
I tried to speak, but no words came out.
Because at that moment, I felt something burning on my chest. I looked down and gasped. There, right over my heart, a mark was appearing on my skin—glowing, beautiful, and terrifying.
A dragon mark.
The man's smile widened as he touched his own chest, where an identical mark was forming.
"Congratulations," he said. "You've just bound yourself to the World-End Dragon. Your life is mine now. And mine..." his golden eyes gleamed with dark amusement, "is unfortunately yours."
The shrine began to collapse around us as the broken seal destabilized. Chunks of ceiling crashed down. The walls cracked and groaned.
The dragon-man moved faster than I could see, grabbed my arm, and everything went dark.
When I could see again, we were somewhere else—an abandoned tower at the edge of the slums. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air, my chest burning where the mark had appeared.
The man stood over me, looking down with cold eyes.
"Now then," he said quietly. "Let's discuss the price you'll pay for my freedom."
And I realized with growing horror that I'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.