Chapter 56: The Dragon's Wrath and the Viscount's Apology
The square erupted into chaos.
Soldiers surged forward, weapons glinting, as Lord Valerius's shout echoed off wooden stalls and stone walls.
Panic rippled through the crowd, villagers scrambling for cover, carts tipping and spilling bread and fruit across the ground.
Hannah's blood turned to ice.
Her golden magic did not blaze to her command—it only leaked from her skin, a faint, warm hum that prickled her fingers and strengthened her legs, but gave her no control, no shape, no way to fight back.
She could not summon it, could not direct it, could not shield anyone.
All she could do was stand frozen, knowing the power inside her was wild and untamed.
Ren went rigid on her shoulder, his tiny body burning hot enough to scald through her tunic.
They dare lay hands on you.
The dragon's voice was not petulant or playful now. It was low, ancient, and murderous.
