Serina's POV
"Stop fidgeting with it."
Kael's voice snapped through the poisonous mist like a whip. I dropped my hand from my chest where the dragon mark burned beneath my torn shirt. It felt like someone had pressed a hot iron against my skin—constant, throbbing, impossible to ignore.
"It hurts," I muttered, stumbling over a crack in the dead earth. My legs felt like jelly after everything that happened in the shrine. "How am I supposed to ignore it?"
"Pain means you're alive." Kael moved through the Crimson Wastes like he owned them, not even bothering to look back at me. "Consider it a gift."
"Some gift," I grumbled. "A magical tattoo that feels like it's eating me alive."
He stopped so suddenly I almost crashed into him. When he turned, those burning red eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"The mark isn't eating you, foolish girl. It's changing you." His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. "Feel that?"
I did. Under my skin, something pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. Something hot and wild and definitely not human.
"That's my power in your veins now," Kael said quietly. "And every creature with magical sense for miles can feel it radiating off you like a beacon. We need to move. Now."
My stomach dropped. "Wait—you mean things are coming for us?"
"Things are always coming for power they can steal." He released my wrist and started walking again, faster this time. "Which is why you're going to learn your first lesson in not dying: never, ever use dragon magic unless I tell you to."
"But what about Finn? You promised—"
"I'll give you just enough to heal your brother. One controlled burst of power, and then you seal it away." He glanced back, and for a second, something almost like concern flickered in his eyes. "Use more than that before you're trained, and you won't just attract attention. You'll burn from the inside out."
Great. Just great.
We walked for what felt like hours. The red wasteland slowly gave way to rocky hills, then scrubland, then finally the outer edges of the slums. I'd never been so happy to see garbage-filled streets in my life.
But Kael's face twisted with disgust the moment we entered the Lower Ring.
"Humans," he muttered, staring at a group of sick children begging near a broken fountain. "You create your own misery and then wallow in it."
Something hot and angry flared in my chest. "Not all of us CHOSE to be poor!"
He raised one perfect eyebrow. "Didn't you? Your people built this rank system. This hierarchy of magic that crushes anyone born without power."
"My people?" I stopped walking, fists clenched. "I'm nineteen years old! I didn't build anything! I was born into this mess, same as those kids, and I've been trying to survive it ever since!"
Kael studied me for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, he nodded. "Fair enough. The sins of ancestors aren't always the fault of their children." He started walking again. "Though humans do seem remarkably good at repeating those sins."
I didn't have an answer for that. Mostly because he was right.
We made it to Uncle Castor's house just as the sun began to set. The building looked even more run-down than usual—peeling paint, broken shutters, weeds growing through cracks in the stone. Home sweet horrible home.
"Wait here," I told Kael. "Let me check if—"
The front door slammed open. Uncle Castor stood there, face red with rage.
"THREE DAYS!" he roared. "You disappear for three days, and you think you can just waltz back here like nothing happened?"
My heart hammered. "I can explain—"
"Explain? EXPLAIN?" He stomped down the steps toward me. "Do you have any idea what people have been saying? That I let my niece run wild in forbidden territories? The neighbors think I'm a failure who can't control his own household!"
"Finn is dying," I said, my voice shaking. "I went to find medicine. That's all."
"Medicine." Castor's eyes narrowed. Then they shifted to Kael, who stood perfectly still, watching everything with cold interest. "And who's this?"
"A traveling mage," Kael said smoothly before I could answer. His entire demeanor changed—less threatening, more formal. "I encountered your niece in the wasteland. She offered payment for magical instruction."
Castor's expression shifted from anger to calculation. I'd seen that look before. It meant he'd found an angle to exploit.
"Magical instruction?" He looked between us. "For a rankless girl?"
"I have methods that don't require inborn talent," Kael lied effortlessly. "For the right price, of course."
"Of course." Castor's smile made my skin crawl. "Well then, come in, come in. We should discuss terms."
I wanted to grab Kael and run. Every instinct screamed that letting my uncle near the dragon was a terrible idea. But Finn was inside, and I hadn't come this far to leave without saving him.
We followed Castor into the house. It smelled like mold and old food. I headed straight for the tiny room Finn and I shared, my heart in my throat.
Please be alive. Please, please, please be alive.
I pushed open the door.
Finn lay on his cot, so still and grey I almost screamed. His chest barely moved. The stone-like patches covered most of his face now, creeping toward his eyes.
"Finn," I whispered, dropping to my knees beside him. "I'm here. I'm here and I'm going to fix this."
Kael appeared in the doorway. "Now," he said quietly. "Before the sickness spreads further."
He moved behind me and placed one hand on my shoulder. Instantly, heat flooded through me—not painful, but intense. The dragon mark on my chest blazed to life.
"Focus on your brother," Kael instructed, his voice low and steady. "Picture the sickness leaving his body. Picture him healthy and whole. Then reach for the power inside you and push."
I did. I thought about Finn laughing, Finn running, Finn being the annoying little brother who stole my food and told terrible jokes. I reached for that wild, hot thing pulsing under my skin.
And I pushed.
Golden-red light exploded from my hands. It poured into Finn like liquid fire, and I felt the moment it touched the sickness. The Grey Rot fought back, but dragon magic was older, stronger, fiercer. It burned through the disease like the sun burning through fog.
The grey patches faded. Finn's skin returned to its normal brown. His breathing deepened, steadied, became strong.
His eyes fluttered open.
"Rina?" His voice was weak but clear. "Is that you?"
I burst into tears. "Yeah, dummy. It's me."
"You smell like smoke." He smiled that gap-toothed smile I'd been terrified I'd never see again. "Did you blow something up?"
I laughed through my tears and hugged him so tight he squeaked. "Maybe. I'll tell you later."
Kael's hand on my shoulder tightened. "Seal it now," he murmured urgently. "Pull the power back before—"
But I felt it too late. The mark flared again, brighter this time. Hotter. A pulse of energy rippled out from me like a shockwave.
And every magical being within ten miles felt it.
Kael cursed in a language I didn't understand. "We need to leave. Tonight."
"What? Why? I just got back—"
"That pulse just announced to every mage, every magical creature, and every power-hungry noble in this kingdom that something very interesting is in the Lower Ring slums." He pulled me to my feet. "They'll be coming. And when they do—"
A floorboard creaked behind us.
Uncle Castor stood in the doorway. His eyes were fixed on my collarbone, where my torn shirt had shifted, revealing the edge of the dragon mark. The crimson seal pulsed with residual power, impossible to miss in the dim light.
Recognition flashed across his face. Then greed. Pure, undiluted greed.
"I'll be damned," he breathed. "The legends were true."
My blood turned to ice.
"Uncle Castor, it's not—"
"Don't." His voice shook with excitement. "Don't you dare lie to me, girl. I've seen that mark in the old books. In the forbidden histories." His eyes gleamed. "That's a dragon seal. Which means you didn't just find medicine in those ruins."
He looked at Kael with new understanding. "You're not a traveling mage at all, are you?"
Kael said nothing. But his eyes began to glow brighter, and the temperature in the room dropped.
Castor backed toward the door, hands raised. "I won't tell anyone! I swear! You're family, Serina. I'd never—"
"Liar," Kael said softly.
Castor fled.
I heard him running through the house, heard the front door slam. Then, through the broken window, I watched him sprint down the street toward the Upper Ring.
Toward the Magic Council.
"He's going to sell us out," I whispered.
Kael moved to the window, watching Castor's retreating form with predator's eyes. "Yes. He is."
"So what do we do?"
He turned to face me, and in the dying light, he looked less human than ever. Ancient. Dangerous. Absolutely merciless.
"We have perhaps six hours before the Council arrives in force," he said calmly. "Six hours to decide if we run like prey..."
His hand moved to my shoulder, right over the burning mark.
"...or teach them why hunting a dragon was never wise."
Behind us, Finn sat up in bed, fully healed but confused. "Rina? What's happening? Who are those people uncle's going to tell?"
I looked at my little brother—alive because of me, in danger because of me—and felt something crack inside my chest. Not breaking. Changing.
The dragon mark flared hot against my skin.
And I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn't powerless anymore.
"Get dressed," I told Finn, my voice steadier than I felt. "We're leaving."
"Where are we going?"
I looked at Kael, who watched me with those burning eyes. Waiting to see what I'd choose.
Run or fight. Prey or predator.
"I don't know yet," I said honestly. "But wherever it is..."
Through the window, I saw figures in dark robes materializing at the end of our street. Too many. Too fast. They'd been closer than Castor knew, probably already tracking the magical pulse I'd sent out.
We were surrounded.
And the only way out was through.
"...we're going together."