Elara's POV
The blood on my hands is still warm.
I press the wet cloth harder against Miko's mouth, trying to catch the next wave of red that spills from his lips. He's only six years old. Six. And he's drowning in his own blood while I sit here, completely useless.
"Elara?" His voice is so small, so scared. "Am I going to die like Penny did?"
My heart breaks into a thousand pieces, but I force a smile onto my face. "No, sweetheart. You're going to be fine. I promise."
It's a lie. We both know it's a lie.
Around us, the other children pretend not to watch. Seventeen-year-old Sara keeps the younger ones busy with a counting game in the corner. Ten-year-old Marcus stares at the wall, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. They've all seen this before. Red Fever doesn't care how young you are or how much you want to live. It just takes and takes and takes.
Six children in four weeks. Six tiny graves I dug in the wasteland behind our hidden orphanage.
Miko coughs again, and more blood splatters across my already-stained dress. I don't even flinch anymore. What's the point? In this kingdom, if you don't have powerful magic, you're nothing. Less than nothing. You're trash that should be thrown away.
And me? I'm the biggest joke of all. Twenty-four years old with healing magic in a world that only respects people who can kill. My own parents took one look at my gentle powers and abandoned me at an orphanage when I was seven. "Worthless," my mother had said, not even looking back. "We can't afford to raise something useless."
I've spent the last seventeen years proving them right. Stealing medicine I can barely afford. Watching children die despite everything I try. Being the girl everyone laughs at—the Mercy Thief who leaves healing salves for the guards she steals from because she's too pathetic to let anyone suffer.
Miko's fever is getting worse. I place my hand on his burning forehead and let my magic flow. It's weak—it's always weak—but it's all I have. Soft golden light spreads from my palm, and his fever drops just a little. Not enough to save him. Never enough.
"That's it, little warrior," I whisper. "Rest now."
His eyes flutter closed, and his breathing evens out. He'll wake up in a few hours feeling worse. Then tomorrow will be worse than today. Then the day after that, he'll be gone. Just like Penny. Just like all the others.
I'm so tired of losing.
The door to our hideout suddenly crashes open.
Everyone jumps. Sara pulls the children behind her. Marcus grabs a broken pipe, ready to fight. My heart hammers in my chest as I spin around, putting myself between the door and Miko's sleeping form.
But it's just Brennan.
My friend stumbles inside, his guard uniform torn and dirty. His face is ghost-white, and his hands are shaking. In all the years I've known him—ever since he started secretly helping me five years ago—I've never seen him look this terrified.
"Brennan?" I stand up slowly. "What happened?"
He can't catch his breath. He's gasping like he ran all the way here from the Citadel. When he looks at me, his eyes are full of tears.
"Elara," he chokes out. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Ice floods through my veins. "What are you talking about?"
"It's Theron. The Grand War Mage. He—" Brennan's voice breaks. "He made an announcement. Today. In the city square."
The other children are completely silent now, watching us. Even little Miko has woken up, his fevered eyes wide with fear.
"What announcement?" My voice doesn't sound like mine anymore.
Brennan looks at the children. At their thin faces and hollow eyes. At the way they huddle together like baby birds in a nest. When he speaks again, his words come out like broken glass.
"He called orphans a 'resource drain.' He said the kingdom can't afford to feed useless mouths during wartime. He said..." Brennan's fists clench. "He said all orphans in the Husklands are to be executed. Public burning. Three days from now. In the city square."
The world stops.
Everything stops.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't move.
"No," Sara whispers behind me. "No, no, no—"
"All of them?" My voice is so quiet I barely hear it myself. "Even the babies? Even the sick ones?"
Brennan nods, tears streaming down his face. "Thirty-two children are on the list, Elara. Every orphan in the Husklands. Including..." He looks at Miko. At Sara. At Marcus and all the others. "Including all of yours."
Marcus drops his pipe. The clang of metal hitting stone echoes like a death bell.
Sara starts crying, trying to muffle the sound so she won't scare the little ones. But they already know. Children always know when death is coming for them.
"Three days," I repeat numbly. "He's going to burn them alive in three days."
"The announcement said it's to 'cleanse the kingdom of weakness' and 'set an example.'" Brennan's voice is full of rage and helplessness. "The execution is already scheduled. Guards are being posted at every exit from the Husklands. No one gets out. Elara, I tried to find help, but—"
"But no one cares about orphans with weak magic." I finish his sentence. I know how this kingdom works. I've lived it every single day of my life.
Miko sits up on his cot, his small face confused. "Elara? What does execution mean?"
I can't answer him. If I open my mouth, I'll scream and never stop.
They're going to kill my children. These babies who've already lost everything. These kids who only have each other and me. They're going to tie them to stakes and burn them alive while the city watches and cheers.
And there's nothing I can do to stop it.
I'm useless. Just like my parents said. Just like everyone has always said. I can heal small wounds and calm fevers, but I can't stop armies. I can't fight war mages. I can't save anyone when it really matters.
Sara pulls the younger children close, whispering that everything will be okay. More lies. All we have left are lies.
Brennan puts a hand on my shoulder. "Elara, we'll figure something out. Maybe if we run—"
"They're guarding the exits," I say flatly. "You just said that."
"Then we'll hide. We'll—"
"Where, Brennan? Where can thirty-two children hide in a kingdom where everyone hates them?" My voice cracks. "Even if we could hide, they'd burn down the entire Husklands searching for them. More people would die. Innocent people."
"So what do we do?" His voice is desperate.
I don't have an answer. For the first time in my life, I have absolutely no idea what to do.
Miko coughs again, blood spraying across his blanket. He doesn't even have three days. The fever will take him before the execution can.
Unless...
A memory surfaces. Something old. Something whispered in dark corners by people who've lost all hope.
The Cage of Chains. In the Scorched Wastes. Where the Calamity Dragon sleeps.
They say if you're desperate enough to offer yourself to the monster, he might grant you one wish. They also say everyone who goes there dies screaming.
But my children are already going to die screaming.
What do I have to lose?
"Elara?" Brennan notices the change in my expression. "What are you thinking?"
I look at Miko. At Sara. At every single child in this room who depends on me. Who trusts me. Who believes I'll save them somehow.
I've been useless my entire life. A joke. A girl with worthless magic in a kingdom that worships death.
But maybe—just maybe—there's one thing left I can do.
"I'm going to make a deal with a dragon," I whisper.
Brennan's face goes white. "Elara, no. That's suicide. The Calamity Dragon is a monster. He'll kill you, or worse—"
"Worse than watching my children burn?" I turn to face him. "Tell me, Brennan. What's worse than that?"
He has no answer.
I grab my traveling cloak from the hook by the door. My hands are steady now. My mind is clear. This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done. I'll probably die in the Scorched Wastes before I even reach the Cage.
But I have to try.
Because if there's even a tiny chance—even the smallest possibility—that I can save them, then I'm taking it.
"Stay with them," I tell Brennan. "If I'm not back in three days..."
I don't finish that sentence. We both know what it means.
As I reach for the door, Miko calls out weakly, "Elara? Where are you going?"
I turn back and smile at him. A real smile this time. "To steal us a miracle, little warrior."
"Will you come back?"
The question breaks my heart.
"I promise I'll try," I whisper. "I promise."
It's not enough. But it's all I have.
I walk out into the night, leaving behind the only family I've ever known. The Scorched Wastes wait in the distance, glowing red against the dark sky. Somewhere in that nightmare of fire and death, a dragon sleeps.
They say he's the most dangerous creature ever born. That he almost destroyed the world. That he's pure evil wrapped in scales and flame.
I don't care.
He's my only hope.
As I take my first step toward the wasteland, I hear it—a sound that makes my blood run cold.
Footsteps. Behind me. Heavy boots on stone.
I spin around and my heart stops.
Guards. At least a dozen of them. Led by a woman in crimson robes that mark her as one of Theron's elite mages.
Lady Catryn Blackwater. The cruelest mage in the kingdom. The woman who personally signed the execution order.
She smiles at me like a cat that's cornered a mouse.
"Going somewhere, Mercy Thief?" Her voice drips with poison. "Did you really think we wouldn't be watching you? You and your little nest of parasites?"
The guards spread out, surrounding me. There's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
"You see," Catryn continues, her smile widening, "we've been waiting for you to do something stupid. And this?" She laughs. "This is perfect. Did you honestly think you could reach the Cage of Chains?"
My mind races. If they capture me now, the children will have no one. No hope at all.
Catryn raises her hand, dark magic crackling around her fingers. "You should have stayed in your hole, little healer. Now you'll burn right alongside those orphan brats. But first..."
Her magic shoots toward me like a spear.
I close my eyes, knowing I can't dodge it. Knowing this is the end.
But the killing blow never comes.
Instead, I hear screaming. Not mine—the guards'.
I open my eyes and see something impossible.
The ground between me and Catryn has split open. Fire—not normal fire, but silver-black flames—erupts from the crack. The heat is so intense the guards stumble backward, shielding their faces.
And in my chest, right over my heart, something burns.
I look down and see it: a mark. Glowing silver. In the shape of a dragon's claw.
It wasn't there five minutes ago.
"What did you do?" Catryn shrieks, her perfect composure shattered.
I don't know. I didn't do anything.
But as I stare at the impossible fire and the mark on my chest, one thought screams through my mind:
He knows I'm coming.
The dragon knows.