THE NIGHT THE DRAGONS FELL
Four Hundred Years Ago
The sky was burning.
Elara stood on the balcony of the Warden's Tower and watched her world end in fire.
Below, in the grand plaza, nine mages stood in a circle around a massive crystalline pillar that pulsed with stolen light. Their hands were raised, chanting in unison, and with each word they spoke, the dragons screamed.
All across the continent, her brothers and sisters were falling from the sky. Not dead…that would have been merciful. They were being sealed. Ripped from their human partners, their souls shattered and imprisoned in ancient shrines that had once been places of bonding and peace.
Now those shrines were cages.
"Elara!" The voice behind her was raw with pain. "We have to go. Now. Before they-"
"It's too late, Verath." She turned to face her bonded partner…her dragon, her soul's other half…and felt tears streaming down her face. "They've already won."
Verath stood in human form, silver eyes blazing with fury and grief. Blood ran from a wound in his side where one of the Nine's attacks had caught him. Around his neck, the bonding mark—intricate silver scales that matched the ones on Elara's collarbone was beginning to fade.
The bond was breaking.
"I won't let them take you," he snarled, moving toward her. "We can still fight. We can-"
"There are too many." Elara's voice cracked.
"They planned this, Verath. For years. The 'dragon attacks' on villages? They caused them. The fires? Their work. They turned humanity against us so they could seize power."
"Then we tell people the truth!"
"Who will believe us? They've already branded us as monsters. As threats to civilization." She laughed bitterly. "They're creating a new world, Verath. One where magic flows through their Pillars. Where they control who has power and who doesn't. Where humans are ranked like cattle and dragons are myths to scare children."
Below, the pillar flared brighter. Another dragon's scream cut off mid-cry.
Verath stumbled, gasping, clutching his chest. "Shyrax. They just sealed Shyrax. I can feel—" He looked up at Elara, and she saw terror in his eyes for the first time. "You're next. They're coming for the Wardens now. For the bonded pairs."
"I know."
"Then we run. Please. Elara, please—"
"Running won't save us. But maybe…" She stepped closer, placing her hand over his heart. "Maybe I can save you."
His eyes widened. "No. No, Elara, don't you dare"
"There's a shrine in Ashfall. Deep below the city. They don't know about it…it's too old, too forgotten. I can seal you there myself. Properly. With a contract that will let you wake again when the time is right."
"I won't leave you!"
"You won't have a choice." Elara pulled him close, pressing her forehead to his. "Listen to me. The Nine will kill every Warden. Every human who knows the truth about soul-weaving, about the old magic. But they can't kill what they can't find. I'll seal you, Verath. And someday maybe not in my lifetime, maybe not for centuries…someone will wake you. Someone who needs you."
"I need you." His voice broke. "You're my partner. My soul. How am I supposed to exist without—"
"The same way I'll exist until they kill me. Knowing that this isn't the end." She smiled through her tears. "Dragons live forever, remember? You'll survive this. You'll see the world I'm trying to protect. And maybe… maybe you'll find another partner. Someone worthy. Someone who can finish what we started."
"There will never be another you."
"Good. I'd hate to be replaced by someone less amazing." She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, one last time. "I love you, Verath. In this life and whatever comes after."
"Elara—"
The tower door exploded inward.
Nine figures strode through the smoke, their robes billowing with stolen magic. At their head walked a man Elara had once called friend. Mordain. His golden eyes glowed with an unnatural light, his face serene despite the genocide he'd just orchestrated.
"Warden Elara," he said pleasantly. "How kind of you to wait for us."
Verath snarled and shifted, bones cracking, wings erupting. In seconds, the dragon towered over them all, scales gleaming like midnight, silver eyes burning with rage.
"You betrayed us," Verath roared. "We trusted you. We taught you. And you-"
"Made the hard choices," Mordain interrupted. "For humanity's sake. Your kind are too powerful, dragon. Too dangerous. A threat to the natural order. The new world cannot have wild magic running free. It must be controlled. Organized. Ranked."
"You're creating a prison," Elara spat. "A hierarchy where you stand at the top and everyone else suffers beneath you."
"I'm creating civilization." Mordain raised his hand, and the other eight mages began their chant. "Your idealistic world of equality and soul-bonds is beautiful, Elara. Truly. But it's chaos. Humans aren't ready for that much freedom. They need guidance. Structure. They need us."
"They need you dead."
Elara moved faster than she'd ever moved in her life. Her hand closed around the dagger at her belt, the one she'd prepared for this moment and she lunged.
The blade sank into Mordain's shoulder, and she poured every ounce of her soul-weaving power into it.
The other mages unleashed their spell.
Blue-white light , slammed into Verath. He roared, his wings thrashing, his claws tearing into stone as he fought. But there were nine of them and only one of him, and he'd already been wounded, already been weakened by feeling his kin fall.
"Elara!" His voice was anguish and fury and love all at once. "ELARA!"
"Go," she whispered, though he couldn't hear her over the magic's roar. "Sleep, my love. Wait for someone brave enough to wake you. Someone who'll finish this. I promise. This isn't the end."
She poured the last of her power into the bond, weaving a thread of magic that would survive even after she was gone. A contract. A key. A promise written in blood and soul.
When someone desperate enough. Brave enough. Worthy enough. When they bleed on the contract stone and speak the old words. When they're willing to pay any price…you'll wake.
The spell shattered. Verath vanished in a flash of silver light, sealed away in the hidden shrine beneath Ashfall where the Nine would never think to look.
Elara felt the bond tear.
It was like losing half her soul. Like having her heart ripped from her chest while still beating. She collapsed, gasping, bleeding from eyes and nose and ears.
"Impressive," Mordain said, clutching his wounded shoulder. "But futile. We'll find him eventually. We'll find them all."
"No," Elara said with her last breath. "You won't. And when he wakes… he'll burn your perfect world to ashes."