Elara's POV
I woke to the sound of wings—many wings—beating against the night air.
My eyes shot open. I was lying on something soft and warm, surrounded by firelight that didn't hurt my eyes. For a confused moment, I thought I was back in my chambers at the palace.
Then I remembered. The ice caves. The Destroyer. Flying through the sky.
The bond mark on my wrist.
I sat up too fast, and pain exploded through my broken hand. A gasp escaped my lips.
"Don't move." Cael's voice came from across the cave. He was standing at the entrance in his half-shifted form—mostly human but with scales rippling across his skin and those intense golden eyes. "You're still healing."
"What was that sound?" I clutched my injured hand to my chest. "Those wings—"
"Hunters." His jaw tightened. "Dragon hunters. They followed our trail from the ice caves."
My blood went cold. "They're coming for me?"
"They're coming for both of us." He turned to look at me, and something in his expression made my stomach drop. "Your father is with them."
The words hit like a physical blow. Of course Father would come. He couldn't risk me surviving, couldn't risk me telling anyone the truth. Easier to finish what he started.
"How many?" I forced the question past the lump in my throat.
"Twenty armed men. Three mages with dragon-suppression magic. And something else—something that smells like dragon blood but wrong. Corrupted." Cael's hands clenched into fists. "They've brought weapons I haven't seen in centuries. This isn't a hunting party, Elara. It's an execution squad."
I looked down at my wrist where the golden dragon scales shimmered faintly. "Because of this? Because we're... bonded?"
"No one knows about the bond yet." He moved toward me with that predatory grace that was both terrifying and beautiful. "But your father knows you're alive. And he knows I took you."
"Then give me back to them." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Tell them you were just keeping me prisoner. That you were going to kill me anyway. They'll leave you alone if—"
"Absolutely not." His voice was flat, final. "I'm not giving you to anyone."
"But they'll destroy you! Twenty men with dragon-slaying weapons—"
"Could try." A dangerous smile crossed his face. "I didn't earn the name Destroyer by running from fights, Elara."
"This isn't about pride!" I struggled to my feet, swaying slightly. "This is about survival. I'm not worth—"
His hand caught my good arm, steadying me. "You don't get to decide your worth. Not anymore. Not after what they did to you."
I stared up at him, this ancient creature who should have killed me but chose mercy instead. "Why? Why do you care what happens to me?"
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Then, slowly, he took my uninjured hand and turned it palm-up. The bond mark glowed softly between us.
"Because when I touched you in the ice caves, I felt something I haven't felt in a thousand years," he said quietly. "Hope."
Before I could respond, a voice echoed from outside the cave—amplified by magic, loud enough to shake the walls.
"Cael the Destroyer!" Father's voice. Strong and righteous, like he was saving the kingdom instead of hunting his own daughter. "We know you have the traitor Elara Thorne. Release her to face justice, and we'll leave in peace."
Cael's laugh was dark and sharp. "They actually expect me to believe that."
"Send out the girl!" Another voice—Prince Adrian. "She's a criminal and a liar. Whatever she's told you is false."
My chest tightened. Even now, they were painting me as the villain.
"I should go out there," I said. "Face them. Tell the truth—"
"They'll kill you before you speak three words." Cael's tail wrapped around my waist, pulling me back from the cave entrance. "Is that what you want? To die proving your innocence to people who will never believe you?"
"Then what do we do?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then his eyes met mine, and I saw the decision forming.
"We fight. Together."
"I can't fight!" I held up my broken hand. "I can barely stand!"
"Not with weapons." He placed his palm against my chest, right over my heart where the warmth pulsed. "With this. The dragon-fire in your blood. I can teach you to use it."
"Now? With an army outside?"
"You learned to understand the old tongue without trying. You survived three days of torture without breaking. You carry dragon heritage that should be impossible." His voice was intense, certain. "You're stronger than you know, Elara. You just need to believe it."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I was just a broken girl who couldn't save herself, let alone fight an army.
But then I felt it—that warmth in my chest growing hotter, responding to his touch. And with it came something else. His feelings, flowing through the bond. His absolute conviction that I could do this. His fierce determination to protect me. His...
His fear of losing me.
"You really think I can do this?" I whispered.
"I know you can." He stepped back, giving me space. "Close your eyes. Feel the fire inside you. Don't fight it. Welcome it."
I did as he said, closing my eyes and focusing on the warmth. It was like touching the sun—bright and burning and alive.
"Good," Cael murmured. "Now call it. Bring it to your hands."
I reached for the fire, and it answered eagerly. Heat flooded down my arms, pooling in my palms. When I opened my eyes, silver flames danced across my fingers—beautiful and deadly and mine.
"I'm doing it," I breathed. "I'm actually—"
The cave entrance exploded inward.
I stumbled back as smoke and debris filled the air. Through the dust, I saw them—men in armor, weapons drawn, magic crackling around their hands.
And in front of them all stood Father, his sword already stained with blood.
Not human blood.
Dragon blood.
"No!" The word ripped from my throat as I saw the body behind him. Young, with copper-colored scales. A dragon barely more than a hatchling.
"You killed him," I whispered. "Just to get to me, you killed—"
"I've killed dozens of dragons, Elara." Father's voice was cold. "One more changes nothing. Now come quietly, and I promise your death will be quick."
Something inside me snapped.
The silver fire in my palms exploded outward, so hot and bright that the hunters stumbled back. I felt Cael move beside me, his own flames rising to meet mine.
"You want me, Father?" My voice didn't sound like mine anymore—it was layered with something ancient and powerful. "Come and get me."
Father's eyes widened. "Your eyes—they're glowing. What have you become?"
I didn't answer.
Because in that moment, I felt my body beginning to change. Scales rippling across my skin. Power flooding my veins. The dragon heritage I'd carried unknowingly finally waking up completely.
I was shifting.
And I had no idea how to stop it.
Cael's hand found mine, our bond marks touching. His voice filled my mind: Don't stop it. Let it happen. I've got you.
The last thing I saw before the transformation took me completely was Father's face—twisted with horror and rage.
Then silver scales covered my vision, wings burst from my back, and I stopped being entirely human.
I became something new.
Something terrifying.
Something that made even the Destroyer look impressed.
And when I opened my new eyes and saw my reflection in the cave's ice walls, I finally understood why Father had been so afraid.
I looked exactly like my mother.
The mother he claimed died of illness.
The mother I now realized he'd murdered for the same dragon blood that flowed through my veins.