Kier's POV
I chose the crystal.
Not because I trusted Riven. Not because I believed Ysera. But because the crystal was already in my hand, and I was tired of making decisions based on fear.
The east gate of the Sovereign Keep loomed ahead—three stories of black stone that seemed to swallow light. No guards visible. Too quiet.
It's a trap, Vash'thar's mother's blood whispered in my veins. The dragon presence I'd awakened pulsed nervously in my chest.
I touched the stolen memory crystal in my pocket—the guard's entire patrol route, his mannerisms, the way he scratched his left ear when nervous. I'd ripped it from his soul two hours ago. He'd survive, but he'd never remember his daughter's wedding day. Small price for saving Riven's life.
Or walking into my own death.
The memory flooded through me like cold water. Suddenly I wasn't Kier anymore—I was Guard-Captain Torven, forty-three years old, bad knee, worried about retirement benefits. My body shifted, copying his walk, his posture, even the way his uniform hung slightly loose on the left shoulder.
The gate guards waved me through without question.
Inside, the Keep was freezing. Not normal cold—the kind of cold that comes from magic sucking all the warmth out of the air. My breath fogged. The black cracks on my chest burned under my stolen uniform.
You're dying, I reminded myself. Six hours, maybe less. Whatever happens down there, you're already dead.
Somehow that made it easier to keep walking.
The descent took forever. Secret passages that weren't on any map, spiral stairs that went down, down, down until my ears popped from the pressure. Magical barriers lined the walls—shimmering curtains of energy that stung my skin when I passed through them.
Each barrier felt like it was searching for something. Testing me.
The dragon blood in my veins grew warmer with every level deeper. Like it recognized this place. Like it remembered.
Finally, I reached the bottom level. The corridor ahead was completely dark except for a single metal door at the end. It was massive—twenty feet tall, covered in symbols that hurt to look at directly.
Words were carved across the top in ancient script. The dragon blood translated them automatically:
THE UNBROKEN DREAMS OF FREEDOM
My hand touched the door handle. It was so cold it burned.
Last chance to run, I thought.
But Riven was counting on me. And that dragon—Vash'thar—had been tortured for eight hundred years. Nobody deserved that.
I pulled the door open.
The cavern beyond was impossible. It shouldn't exist this far underground—it was huge, like someone had carved out a cathedral from solid rock. The ceiling disappeared into darkness. The floor was smooth black stone.
And in the center, surrounded by machines that hummed and glowed with sickly green light, was the biggest creature I'd ever seen.
Vash'thar the Unbroken.
He was beautiful and horrible at the same time. Scales like storm clouds covered his massive body. Four legs ending in claws that could tear through steel. Wings folded against his sides, each one bigger than a house. His head was the size of a wagon, with horns that curved back like a crown.
But it was the machines that made my stomach twist.
They were attached to him everywhere—metal tubes piercing his scales, needles buried in his neck, chains wrapped around his legs. Green liquid flowed through the tubes, slowly draining something from his body into glass containers. His soul. They were harvesting his soul piece by piece.
His eyes were closed. For a moment I thought he was dead.
Then his chest moved. One slow breath. Another.
He was alive. Barely.
I stepped closer, my footsteps echoing in the massive space. The machines hummed louder, reacting to my presence. Red lights began flashing on their surfaces.
Warning: Unauthorized presence detected. Hybrid signature confirmed. Initiating trap protocol.
The words appeared on a screen I hadn't noticed—written in dragon script.
My blood went cold. Riven's crystal. I was supposed to throw it first, to disable the trap. But I'd walked right in like an idiot.
The floor beneath me began to glow with golden symbols. A soul trap. The kind designed specifically to kill people like me—half-human, half-dragon.
I tried to move. Couldn't. My legs were frozen in place.
The symbols grew brighter. Pain exploded through my body as they started pulling at something deep inside me. Not my body. My soul.
I screamed.
Vash'thar's eyes opened.
They were the color of lightning—bright, furious gold that seemed to see right through me. Even barely alive, even trapped and tortured, those eyes held power that made my knees weak.
Human, a voice said directly in my mind. Not words exactly—more like feeling and thought pressed into my skull. You're dying. I can taste it. Your soul is breaking apart.
"The trap—" I gasped. The pain was getting worse. I could feel my soul starting to tear.
Yes. They designed it for my children. The hybrids they created by forcing dragons to breed with humans. His mental voice was cold. You'll be paralyzed. Then the machines will extract your soul while you watch. It takes hours. You'll be conscious for all of it.
"Help me!" The words ripped from my throat.
Why would I help a thief who came to steal from me?
He knew. Somehow he knew exactly why I was here.
"I came to save my friend," I said. The pain made spots dance in my vision. "They're going to extract his soul in three days. I need something valuable. I need—"
The gemstone in my skull. His laugh was bitter, echoing in my mind. Yes. It's worth a fortune. Crystallized dragon soul. My soul. They've been harvesting me for eight centuries.
"I'm sorry." I meant it. "I didn't know—"
Everyone knows. Nobody cares. He shifted slightly, and I saw how thin he was under those scales. Starving. Dying. But you're different. I can feel it. You have dragon blood in you. Fresh. Recent. You drank it.
"My mother's blood. Someone gave it to me."
Your mother. His eyes studied me with new interest. Thal'nira's daughter. I knew her. She was... bright. Like summer storms.
Tears burned my eyes. The pain was unbearable now. "Please. I don't want to die like this."
Then we make a bargain, little hybrid. His voice grew stronger. I give you my power. All of it. You consume my entire soul—not just fragments, but everything I am. In exchange, you free me from this torture.
"I don't understand—"
Soul death. The only escape I have left. His mental voice cracked with desperate hope. If you devour me completely, I cease to exist. No more pain. No more consciousness trapped in this body while they slowly tear me apart. Just... nothing. Peace.
"But that would make me a murderer."
I'm already dead, child. I died the day they chained me here. You'd just be finishing the job. He paused. And if you don't accept, we both die screaming. The trap will kill you in minutes. And I'll spend another century like this.
The symbols were burning into my skin now. I could feel my soul starting to rip free of my body.
Choose quickly, Vash'thar said. The trap reaches peak extraction in thirty seconds.
I looked at those ancient eyes. Saw the pain there. The desperate, broken hope.
Riven would tell me not to do it. Any sane person would refuse.
But I thought about eight hundred years of torture. I thought about mercy. About how sometimes the kindest thing you can do is help someone die.
I reached toward his massive scaled head with my free hand—the only part of me that could still move.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Don't be sorry. Be thorough. Consume everything.
My palm touched his skull.
The world exploded into lightning and fire and screaming.