The great hall of Everhart glowed with torchlight, but the brightness only made the shadows deeper. Nobles crowded the chamber in restless waves, their voices sharp, their words barbed. The air was heavy with perfume, fear, and wine. Marble pillars loomed like silent witnesses as Lord Everhart sat high upon the dais, his jaw tight, his eyes sweeping the room like a hawk daring any man to challenge him.
"The dragon-kin were repelled," his voice rang out, firm and commanding. "The city still stands. That is all that matters."
But panic could not be silenced by proclamation. Murmurs rose from the gathered lords and ladies. One man surged forward, silks rustling, finger stabbing toward Andy who stood beside Nia near the dais. "They came for him! Ever since this stranger stepped foot in Everhart, beasts claw at our gates!"
The chamber rippled with agreement. Others chimed in, voices overlapping. "He draws them!" "He is cursed!" "The Dragon Warrior is no savior—he is the spark of calamity!"
Andy's fists tightened at his sides. He had heard these words on the streets, but here in the heart of the court they cut deeper. Their stares were knives; every look seemed to slice away another sliver of belonging.
Nia stepped forward before he could speak, her silver hair catching the torchlight. Her voice, though soft, carried clear. "Lies. He saved you. He saved Everhart. You breathe tonight because of him."
Some nobles fell silent, but others sneered. One voice rose above the rest. "Spoken like a girl enthralled. Tell us, Lady Nia—has he ensnared your heart with his curse as well?"
Her cheeks flushed, fury igniting in her gaze. Andy moved as if to shield her, but another voice interjected, smooth and measured.
Andrew.
"My lords," he began, stepping forward with a solemn expression. "Perhaps both truths hold weight. Andy's strength is undeniable. But so too is the danger that follows him. Should we not, at the very least, place safeguards? For Everhart's sake?"
The chamber stilled. His words dripped like honey into wine—sweet, convincing, deadly. Nobles who moments before spat venom now nodded, soothed by the heir's reason. Even the angriest paused, lulled by Andrew's moderation.
Andy's breath caught. Betrayal did not roar; it whispered. And tonight, betrayal wore his brother's face.
The torches flickered. The shadows beneath the pillars seemed too thick, lingering unnaturally. Andy's Dragon Sense thrummed faintly, a low hum in his chest. Something was wrong. Something unseen watched from the dark.
Later, when the feast wound down and the nobles drifted back to their chambers, Andrew slipped away. His steps echoed softly through the silent corridors of the northern wing, where the ancient wards shimmered faintly like threads of moonlight woven into the stone. A weary guard stood watch, yawning into his helm.
Andrew approached with a faint smile. "My father asked me to inspect the wards. I'll relieve you."
The knight blinked in confusion, then began to protest. He never finished. The dagger flashed quick and silent, sliding beneath his breastplate. The guard collapsed, blood staining the marble. Andrew pressed his palm—still slick with blood—against the wardstone. Shadows gathered eagerly around his hand, seeping into the cracks. The wards flickered, sputtered, then died with a hiss.
Beyond the walls, the dragon-kin stirred.
Andy bolted upright in his chamber, chest heaving, Dragon Sense screaming in his blood. The pulse was violent, undeniable.
"Nia." His voice shook her from slumber.
She sat up instantly, silver eyes sharp even in the dark. "Andy?"
"They're here. Inside."
The alarm bells tolled a breath later, their peals echoing like funeral bells across the palace. Screams erupted, followed by the clash of steel, the roar of beasts. The palace that had seemed so untouchable was suddenly a battlefield.
Andy snatched up his blade. Sparks of fire licked along its edge, faint but alive. Nia rose with him, her staff blazing silver as light pooled around her. Their rings pulsed in unison, steady and defiant.
The System flooded his vision.
> [Skill Activated: Dragon Sense]
Hostile auras detected within 200 meters.
> [Soul Resonance: Active]
Affinity Boost applied.
> [Shared Heartbeat: Synced]
Partner Status: Stable. Mana Flow: 91%.
He drew a sharp breath, fire igniting in his veins. "We use everything we've got."
Nia's hand brushed his, her eyes fierce. "Together."
The doors of the corridor exploded inward. A dragon-kin lunged, scales glistening with venom. Andy surged forward, blade raised.
"Stellar Flame Judgment!"
A torrent of fire burst forth, searing the beast in a blaze so bright the torches seemed pale. It shrieked as its body disintegrated into smoke. Another leapt from behind, venom spraying toward the knights who had gathered.
"Twin Star Barrier!" Nia's voice rang out, and a shimmering wall of silver light blossomed, deflecting the venom. Andy pivoted, guided by Dragon Sense, blade slicing across the beast's chest.
The hall erupted into chaos. Knights rallied at their side, swords flashing, shields raised. Andy's flames and Nia's light carved paths through the tide of scaled beasts.
They moved as one. Soul Resonance bound them, amplifying every motion. His fire twined with her silver, strikes flowing seamlessly. Her shields rose exactly when his guard faltered, his blade fell exactly when her magic left a gap. The Shared Heartbeat kept their rhythm steady—two warriors moving with one pulse.
"On your right!" Nia cried, feeling his hesitation before he even turned.
He spun, flames arcing, cutting down the beast that would have gutted him. "Got it. Your back!"
Her staff flared, silver bolts streaking behind her, burning through another.
The corridor shook with roars, the marble cracked beneath claw and flame. Yet they stood unbroken, their power illuminating the palace like starlight reborn.
But through the smoke, Andy saw him.
At the far end of the hall, Andrew stood, his blade untouched, his posture calm. Shadows curled unnaturally around his feet, clinging like smoke to his cloak. Their eyes met across the battlefield.
Dragon Sense flared hot, cold, certain. Enemy.
It was him.
Andy's breath caught, fury burning sharper than any wound. His brother's lips curved faintly, then he turned and vanished into the darkness, leaving only silence in his wake.
By dawn, the palace lay in ruin. Marble floors were cracked and slick with blood. Banners hung torn, their colors marred by soot. Knights lay wounded or dead among the shattered columns. The dragon-kin were slain, but victory felt like ash.
Lord Everhart stood amid the wreckage, face pale, voice hoarse as he barked orders. "Rebuild the wards! Double the guard! Burn the carcasses before their rot curses us further!"
But whispers spread faster than his commands.
"The beasts were inside the palace walls…"
"They seek the Dragon Warrior still…"
"Everhart is cursed…"
Andy sheathed his blade slowly, his shoulders heavy. Nia stood beside him, her hand finding his, their rings glowing faintly. She whispered, her voice soft and fierce. "You did everything you could."
But Andy's eyes lingered on the shattered doors where Andrew had stood, and the ache in his chest told him the worst wound tonight had not been given by claw or fang.
It had been carved by blood.
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