Kier's POV
I drank my mother's blood in an alley behind the fish market.
The vial burned going down—like swallowing lightning and fire and winter all at once. My chest exploded with pain. The black cracks flared bright gold, and for one terrifying moment I thought I was dying right there.
Then the pain stopped.
I looked down. The cracks hadn't healed, but they'd stopped spreading. And deep inside my chest, something that had been sleeping my entire life stirred awake.
I could feel it. A second heartbeat beneath my own. A presence that was me but also not-me. Dragon.
My mother's heritage. Finally waking up.
"What did you just do?"
I spun around. Riven stood at the alley entrance, his eyes locked on the empty vial in my hand.
"Where did you get that?" His voice was deadly quiet.
I could lie. Should lie. But I was so tired of lies.
"Someone who claims to be me from the future gave it to me. They said it's my mother's dragon blood. They said—"
Riven moved like lightning. His hand wrapped around my throat, slamming me against the wall. His eyes blazed with gold light—not human eyes. Dragon eyes.
"You weren't supposed to know yet," he snarled. "You weren't supposed to wake up. Not until after the ritual. Not until—"
His grip loosened suddenly. He stepped back, breathing hard, his human mask sliding back into place.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean—the stress of tonight—"
"You just attacked me with dragon strength." My voice shook. "You're one of them. Dragonsouled. How long?"
"It's not what you think—"
"HOW LONG?"
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were filled with something that might have been genuine regret.
"Three thousand years," he whispered. "Give or take a century."
The world spun. Three thousand years. My best friend. My family.
A lie that old.
"Your name isn't even Riven, is it?"
"It is now. I've been Riven for eighteen years. Long enough that sometimes I forget the dragon I used to be." He reached for me and I jerked back. His hand fell. "Kier, please. Let me explain."
"Why?" I laughed bitterly. "So you can lie some more? Tell me how you had to do it? How it was all for my own good?"
"No. So I can tell you the truth before you walk into that vault tonight and get yourself killed."
He pulled out the map again—but this time he unfolded it completely. I saw the entire Keep layout. And marked in tiny symbols around the dragon's vault were words I could barely read.
Ancient dragon script.
"Can you read that?" Riven asked.
I shouldn't be able to. I'd never studied dragon language.
But my mother's blood sang in my veins, and suddenly the symbols made sense.
"Soul trap," I read slowly. "Designed for hybrid execution."
Riven nodded grimly. "The vault isn't just holding Vash'thar. It's a trap specifically designed to kill anyone with mixed dragon-human blood. The moment you enter, it will sense your heritage and trigger. You'll be paralyzed. Then the extraction machines will tear your soul apart piece by piece."
My stomach dropped. "The future-me told me to go there. Why would they—"
"Because they're not future-you." Riven's voice was hard. "They're Ysera the Pale—an ancient dragon who wants you dead before you become a threat. She sent that card. She appeared as a future version of you to manipulate you into entering the vault unarmed."
I thought about the stranger's golden eyes. Their half-dragon appearance.
"How do I know you're not lying now?"
"You don't." He spread his hands. "But ask yourself—if I wanted you dead, why would I spend eighteen years keeping you alive? Why teach you to fight, to steal, to survive? Why protect you from every threat in the Hollow Quarters?"
"To fatten me up for the Emperor."
"To prepare you to fight him." His eyes burned. "You're right that I've been grooming you. But not as a vessel. As a weapon. The only weapon that can kill the Dragon Emperor permanently—because your hybrid soul can consume his without being destroyed."
My head spun. Too many lies. Too many truths that felt like lies.
"I don't believe you."
"Then believe this." He grabbed my wrist—the one with the Ouroboros Mark. "This isn't a tracking spell. It's a protection ward. The Emperor's servants have been hunting for hybrid children for three thousand years. This mark hides your true nature from them. Without it, you would have been found and killed when you were six."
The mark pulsed warm under his touch.
"My mother—"
"Was Thal'nira the Stormborn. A dragon who fell in love with a human thief. They had you. Then the Emperor's hunters found her and killed her. Your father died trying to protect you both." His voice cracked. "I was there. I tried to stop them. I failed. So I took you and ran. Hid you. Raised you. Taught you to survive in the one place the Emperor never looks—the slums."
Tears burned my eyes. "Why should I believe any of this?"
"Because tonight, when you touch Vash'thar's soul, you'll see the truth. Dragon souls can't lie to each other. If you merge with him, he'll show you everything—what you are, what I am, what the Emperor wants." Riven stepped closer. "But you'll only survive the merge if you follow my plan exactly. The vault is a trap for hybrids. You need to trigger the stasis release before you enter, so the trap activates on empty air. Then you can safely approach Vash'thar."
He handed me a small crystal. It pulsed with dark magic.
"Throw this at the vault door from the hallway. It will crack the stasis spell without triggering the hybrid sensors. You'll have ninety seconds before the guards arrive. Get in, touch Vash'thar, start the merge, and let his power protect you when the guards come."
I stared at the crystal. At the map. At Riven's face—so familiar and so alien at once.
"How do I know this isn't just another trap?"
"You don't. But consider this—if I wanted you dead, I could kill you right now. You're weak from the soul-degradation. You drank unknown dragon blood that could have been poison. I could snap your neck and blame it on the Soulseekers." His smile was sad. "But I won't. Because despite everything, despite three thousand years of manipulation and schemes and lies, I actually care what happens to you."
"That's not good enough."
"I know." He pressed the crystal into my hand. "But it's all I have."
The black cracks on my chest pulsed. The dragon-blood warmth was fading. I could feel time running out—not days or hours, but minutes. My hybrid soul was waking up, and my human body couldn't handle it without help.
I needed Vash'thar's soul to stabilize the merge.
Or I needed to reject my dragon half and die human.
"Tell me one true thing," I said. "Just one. No manipulation. No games."
Riven looked at me for a long moment.
"Your mother's last words were 'protect her heart.' Not her body. Not her soul. Her heart." His voice broke. "She meant your humanity. Your ability to love and feel guilt and choose mercy even when it hurts. That's what makes you dangerous to the Emperor—not your power, but your heart. Because a hybrid with a human heart can't be controlled."
Something in his words rang true. Painfully true.
"Did you love her?" I asked. "My mother?"
"Everyone loved Thal'nira. She was storm and sunlight and laughter all at once." His smile was genuine for the first time. "You look like her when you're angry. Same fire in your eyes."
The moment broke. Riven pulled out a pocket watch.
"Six hours until midnight. You need to prepare. Memorize the guard rotations. Practice with the crystal. Rest if you can, though I doubt you will." He headed for the door. "I'll meet you at the east gate. We go in together this time."
"Why together?"
"Because if Ysera is planning an ambush, she'll expect you to be alone. Two of us changes her calculations." He paused. "And because if something goes wrong, I want to be there. To save you or die trying. That's what family does."
"You're not my family."
"No. But I raised you. That has to count for something."
He left before I could respond.
I stood alone in the alley, holding a crystal that might save me or trap me, with a dragon heritage I'd never known and a best friend who'd lied about everything.
The black cracks pulsed. My mother's blood sang in my veins. And somewhere deep in the Sovereign Keep, a dragon who'd been tortured for eight hundred years waited in magical sleep.
I pulled out the map and studied it carefully. Riven's route made sense—if he was telling the truth. But Ysera's warning about the trap also made sense—if she was telling the truth.
Both could be lying. Both could be honest. I had no way to know.
Except one.
I closed my eyes and focused on the warmth in my chest. The dragon presence that had woken up when I drank my mother's blood. My heritage. My truth.
Mother, I thought. If you can hear me, if any part of you survived, please. Show me what to do.
The warmth pulsed once. Twice.
Then I felt it—a memory that wasn't mine. My mother's memory, passed through her blood.
I saw her standing in this exact alley, holding a baby. Me. A young man stood with her—Riven, but different. Younger. More human.
"Promise me," my mother said. "If they find me, you'll tell her the truth. Not when she's ready. Not when it's safe. The moment she needs to know."
"I promise," young-Riven said.
"Liar." My mother smiled. "You'll wait until the last possible second because you're terrified of losing her. But that's okay. Fear means you care." She kissed the baby's forehead. "Just remember—the truth will set her free. Even if it destroys everything else."
The memory faded.
I opened my eyes, tears streaming down my face.
Riven was telling the truth. About protecting me. About caring.
But he was also lying about the vault. I could feel it in my bones. Something about his plan was wrong.
Which meant Ysera might be telling the truth about the trap.
Which meant I was walking into a death-trap in six hours with no way to know who to trust.
I looked down at my hands. They flickered—human one second, scaled the next. My dragon half trying to emerge.
"Okay, Mother," I whispered. "I'll find the truth. Even if it kills me."
A raven landed on the alley wall. The same one from before. It dropped another card and flew away.
I picked it up with shaking hands.
The crystal Riven gave you is cursed. It will knock you unconscious the moment you use it. He plans to deliver you to the Emperor himself.
But I lied too. The vault trap is real, but I can disable it. Meet me at the north entrance instead of the east gate. Come alone. Save yourself. Save Vash'thar.
You have to choose who to trust. The dragon who wants to use you, or the dragon who wants to free you.
Choose wisely. Choose quickly.
Time's running out.
—Ysera the Pale
I stared at the two routes. East gate with Riven. North entrance with Ysera.
One was a trap. Maybe both were traps.
And I had six hours to decide which lie would kill me.