Kier's POV
I burned the ashes from the mysterious card and waited for dawn with a knife in my hand.
The rain stopped. The sun rose. And the black cracks across my chest spread another inch toward my heart.
Riven didn't come back. Part of me hoped he wouldn't. Part of me—the stupid, broken part that still remembered him teaching me to pick my first lock—hoped he'd knock on my door and tell me it was all a joke.
Instead, I got a different visitor.
The Soulseekers kicked down my door at noon.
Three of them stormed in wearing black uniforms, hands glowing with binding magic. I rolled off my bed, knife already flying. It hit the first one in the shoulder. He cursed and stumbled.
"Kier Morrow," the leader barked. "You're under arrest for illegal soul theft. The merchant Gareth Voss has filed—"
I dove out my window.
Four stories up didn't matter when you'd grown up climbing these buildings. I grabbed the laundry line, swung to the next balcony, and kept running. Behind me, the Soulseekers shouted and gave chase.
My chest burned. The black cracks pulsed with each heartbeat, making my vision blur. I was slower than usual. Weaker. Riven was right—I was dying fast.
I hit the rooftops and ran harder.
The Hollow Quarters spread out below me like a maze. I knew every alley, every hiding spot, every bolt-hole. The Soulseekers were city guards, trained and disciplined.
But I was desperate.
I led them on a chase across six buildings, then dropped into a laundry chute, crawled through a basement, and came out three streets over. By the time they figured out where I'd gone, I was already at the docks.
The old fish market. Abandoned after the plague three years ago. Riven and I used to hide here when we were kids.
I slipped inside, breathing hard. My chest felt like broken glass grinding together.
"Cutting it close."
I spun around. Riven sat on a broken crate, looking exactly like he always had. Sandy hair, crooked smile, the scar on his chin from when we'd tried to steal from the baker's cart. My best friend.
My destroyer.
"The Soulseekers are looking for you," he said calmly. "The merchant reported the theft. They'll execute you if they catch you."
"Good thing I'm dying anyway."
His smile faded. "Kier—"
"Don't." I kept my distance. "Just tell me what you want. You clearly brought me here for a reason."
He stood slowly, hands in his pockets. Non-threatening. Like we were just two friends talking.
"I need you to understand something," he said. "Everything I told you last night was true. But it wasn't the whole truth."
"Oh, so there's a good reason you've been poisoning me since I was six?"
"There's a necessary reason." He pulled out a new map—different from the one last night. This one showed the entire Sovereign Keep, with six locations marked in red. "You asked what you really are. The card told you to free Vash'thar to find out. I'm telling you not to trust it."
"Why would I trust you?"
"Because whoever sent that card wants you to die." His voice went hard. "Freeing Vash'thar means breaking the stasis spell. The moment you do that, every alarm in the Keep will trigger. Every Dragonsouled guard will converge on that vault. You'll be trapped underground with nowhere to run."
I hadn't thought of that.
"But if you consume him like I planned," Riven continued, "you'll gain his power instantly. You'll be able to fight your way out. Transform. Fly if you need to."
"And become your puppet."
"And live." He stepped closer. "Kier, look at yourself. Really look."
I didn't want to. But I pulled up my shirt anyway.
The black cracks had reached my ribs. I could see through some of them now—see the hollow spaces where my soul used to be. Like looking through a window into nothing.
"You have hours left," Riven said quietly. "Maybe less. The only thing keeping you standing right now is the merchant's memories, and those are burning away. By tonight, you'll start forgetting things. Your own memories will dissolve. You'll lose who you are piece by piece before your body finally gives up."
My hands shook. I pulled my shirt down.
"There's another option," I said. "I could just let it happen. Die as myself instead of becoming whatever you're trying to make me."
"You could." His voice was soft. "But you won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you gave away all your money last night to save Sara's mother." He smiled sadly. "You're a thief and a soul-stealer and you hate yourself for it. But you're not a quitter. You don't give up. You survive. That's what I taught you."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
"Why me?" I asked. "If you need a vessel for some ancient dragon emperor, why not pick someone stronger? Someone with an intact soul?"
"Because intact souls resist possession. They fight back. But you—" He gestured at my chest. "Your soul is already broken. Already used to holding fragments that don't belong to you. When you consume Vash'thar, your soul won't reject him. It'll absorb him. And then the next dragon, and the next, until you're strong enough to hold the Emperor himself."
"That's disgusting."
"That's survival." He held out the map. "This is the path. Memorize it. Tonight at midnight, you go in. Touch Vash'thar. Consume his soul. And live long enough to hate me properly."
I stared at the map. At the path to the dragon vault. At the choice between dying in hours or becoming a monster.
"What if I say no?" I asked. "What if I just walk away right now?"
Riven's expression didn't change. But his hand moved to his belt, where I knew he kept his knife.
"Then I'd have to make sure you can't," he said quietly. "Because I've invested too much in you to let you quit now. I'd carry you to that vault myself. Unconscious, if necessary."
The threat hung between us.
My best friend. The person who'd saved my life a hundred times. Was now threatening to force me into slavery.
"I could fight you," I said.
"You'd lose. You're dying, remember?"
He was right again. Damn him.
I took the map.
"Smart girl." Relief flooded his face. "I knew you'd—"
"I'm not doing this for you," I interrupted. "I'm doing this because I want to live long enough to find out the truth. About what I am. About why that card said you're afraid of me discovering it."
Riven's smile froze. "What card?"
"The one that came with the raven last night. The one that told me to free Vash'thar instead of consuming him."
For the first time since I'd known him, Riven looked genuinely scared.
"Who sent it?" he demanded.
"It didn't say. Just signed 'A Fellow Prisoner.'" I watched his reaction carefully. "You know who it is."
"If you free that dragon, you'll die."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'll find out why you've been lying about what I really am."
"Kier—"
"Tell me the truth. Right now. What am I?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His hand went to the dragon-mark on my wrist—the tracking spell he'd burned into my skin.
"You're dying," he said finally. "That's all that matters. Everything else can wait until you've consumed Vash'thar and stabilized."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting." He headed for the door. "Midnight. East gate. Don't be late."
"Or what? You'll drag me there yourself?"
He paused. "If I have to."
The door closed behind him.
I stood alone in the abandoned fish market, holding a map to my own destruction.
My chest throbbed. The black cracks spread another centimeter while I watched. Riven was right—I had hours left, not days.
But that card had said Vash'thar would tell me the truth. About what I really was. About why Riven feared me discovering it.
I pulled up my sleeve and looked at the Ouroboros Mark. The dragon eating itself.
What if it wasn't just a tracking spell? What if it meant something else?
A sound made me turn.
Someone stood in the doorway. Not Riven. Someone else. Tall, wearing a dark cloak that hid their face.
"You're dying faster than he told you," the stranger said. Their voice was strange—male and female and neither, all at once. "The mark accelerates the degradation. By midnight, you'll be too weak to reach the vault."
I grabbed my knife. "Who are you?"
"Someone who sent you a card last night." They stepped closer. "Someone who knows what you are. What you're supposed to become."
"And what's that?"
"The only person who can kill the Dragon Emperor permanently." They lowered their hood.
I gasped.
Their face was human. But their eyes—their eyes were gold. Dragon eyes. And across their chest, visible through their open collar, were black cracks identical to mine.
"My name is Kieran," they said. "And I'm you. From the future. From the timeline where you consumed Vash'thar and became the vessel."
The world tilted.
"That's impossible."
"So is soul-stealing. So is surviving Soul-Hollow to age twenty-four. So is everything about your life." They held out their hand. "I came back to stop it from happening again. To give you a choice I never had."
"What choice?"
"Free Vash'thar instead of consuming him. Merge with him willingly instead of devouring him. Become partners instead of predator and prey." Their gold eyes burned. "It's the only way to break the cycle. The only way to stop Riven's master plan. And the only way to discover what you really are."
"Which is?"
They smiled—and it was terrible and beautiful at once.
"The child of a dragon and a human. Born from a forbidden union. Your mother wasn't human, Kier. She was a dragon in human form. And when they killed her, they accidentally created the one thing they fear most." They stepped closer. "A natural hybrid. Someone who can merge with dragon souls instead of being destroyed by them. Someone who can kill the Emperor permanently because your soul is already half-dragon."
The words crashed through me like lightning.
My mother. A dragon.
Me. Half-dragon.
"Riven doesn't want you as a vessel," future-me continued. "He wants to kill you before you realize your power. The ritual is designed to have the Emperor consume YOU, not the other way around. You're the real threat."
I couldn't breathe.
"Free Vash'thar," they said urgently. "Merge with him. Let your dragon half wake up. It's the only—"
They suddenly looked up. "No. They found me. I'm out of time."
"Wait—"
"Midnight. East gate. But don't trust Riven." They pressed something into my hand—a small vial of glowing liquid. "Dragon blood. Your mother's. Drink it before you enter the vault. It'll wake up your heritage. Let you survive the merge."
"But—"
They flickered. Like a ghost.
"Trust the dragon, Kier. He's the only one who can't lie to you when your souls touch." Their voice faded. "Save yourself. Save Vash'thar. End the cycle—"
They vanished.
I stood alone, holding a vial of glowing blood and a truth that shattered everything.
My mother was a dragon.
I was half-dragon.
And tonight, I'd either wake up that power or let it be destroyed forever.
The black cracks spread across my heart.
Time was running out.