Drakarion's POV
The abomination's claws missed us by inches.
I rolled mid-flight, tucking my wings to dive beneath its massive corrupted body. Elara clung to my back, her hands gripping my scales so tightly I could feel her terror through our soul fusion.
But also her determination. Her refusal to give up.
That was too close, she thought at me.
It's faster than I expected, I admitted, pulling up sharply to avoid crashing into a mountain peak. Three times my size and somehow still quicker.
Behind us, the abomination roared—thousands of tortured souls screaming as one. The sound made my bones ache and my heart hurt. Those were my kin in there. Dragons who'd been killed and corrupted, their essences twisted into this monstrosity.
We have to free them, Elara said suddenly through our bond. Those souls. They're trapped. In agony.
I know. Anger and grief warred inside me. But how? The creature is held together by dark magic. Breaking it could destroy the souls permanently.
Or it could release them. Her mental voice was firm. We have to try.
The abomination dove at us again. This time I wasn't fast enough—its claws raked across my side, drawing golden blood. Through our fusion, Elara felt the pain as sharply as I did. She gasped but didn't let go.
I'm okay, I told her quickly. It's just a scratch.
That's not a scratch! You're bleeding!
I've had worse. Much worse. Three hundred years of torture had taught me to function through pain. Focus. We need a plan.
The corrupted magistrate—now fully transformed into something half-human, half-demon—flew toward us on wings made of dark magic. His face was still recognizable beneath the mutations, twisted into a mask of cruel satisfaction.
"You cannot win, Last Flame!" he called out mockingly. "That abomination contains the power of fifty slaughtered dragons! And I—" He laughed. "—I have absorbed the essence of every prisoner who died in my facility! We are beyond you now! Beyond anything this world has ever seen!"
He's insane, Elara observed.
Agreed. But he's also dangerous. I banked hard right, barely avoiding another attack from the abomination. We can't fight both of them at once. We're not strong enough yet.
Yet? Elara latched onto that word. You mean we could be?
I hesitated. What I was thinking was dangerous. Possibly suicidal. But it might be our only chance.
The soul fusion we performed was incomplete, I explained quickly. We merged our magic and emotions, but not our physical forms. If we completed the fusion—truly became one being—our power would multiply exponentially.
Then let's do it!
It's not that simple. I dodged another swipe from the abomination's tail. Complete fusion means one of us has to surrender their form entirely. Become pure energy and merge with the other's body. It's irreversible, Elara. Whoever gives up their form can never get it back.
Through our bond, I felt her process this information. Felt her understanding dawn.
You mean one of us would cease to exist as a separate person.
Exactly. We'd be one consciousness, one body, one soul. Forever.
Which form would we keep? Yours or mine?
The stronger one. Mine. I hated saying it. You'd have to give up being human. Give up your body. Become part of me.
The abomination slammed into us from above. We tumbled through the air, spinning wildly. I managed to right myself at the last second, but my wings were damaged. Flying was becoming harder.
We're losing, Elara said quietly.
I know.
Then we don't have a choice. Her mental voice was calm. Resolved. We complete the fusion.
Elara, no—
Yes. She leaned forward, pressing her cheek against my scales. I choose this. I choose you. I choose us.
But you'll lose everything! Your humanity, your independence—
I'll gain everything that matters. Through our bond, I felt her absolute certainty. I'll be with you. Permanently. Completely. That's all I want.
Something in my chest cracked. Not painfully—beautifully. Like ice melting after an endless winter.
You're sure?
I've never been more sure of anything.
The corrupted magistrate hit us with a blast of dark magic. It seared across my back, and both Elara and I screamed. We were falling now, my damaged wings unable to hold us aloft.
Do it now! Elara urged. Before we crash!
Hold onto me, I commanded. And whatever happens—don't let go.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her glowing bond mark against my scales.
I love you, she whispered.
I love you too, I answered. Now and forever.
We both opened ourselves completely—not just to magic, but to everything. Every memory. Every fear. Every hope. Every secret we'd ever kept.
Elara's essence began to dissolve, turning from solid flesh into pure silver light. It poured into me through the bond mark, merging with my very being. I felt her consciousness settling into mine—not controlling, not separate, but perfectly intertwined.
Her memories became mine: growing up unloved, betrayed by family, finding strength in kindness when the world showed her only cruelty.
My memories became hers: flying free before the chains, watching my family slaughtered, three hundred years of agonizing imprisonment.
Her compassion. My rage.
Her hope. My despair.
Her humanity. My dragon nature.
They merged. Balanced. Became something entirely new.
When the transformation finished, I—we—crashed into the ground with earth-shaking force.
But when I stood up, everything was different.
My body had changed. I was still dragon-formed, but silver light traced through my black scales like veins of starlight. My eyes burned with both golden fire and human warmth. My power had tripled—no, quadrupled.
And inside my mind, Elara's voice spoke as clearly as my own thoughts:
We did it. We're one.
How do you feel?
Whole. For the first time in my life, I feel whole.
The abomination and the corrupted magistrate landed near us, circling like predators who'd cornered their prey.
"What is this?" the magistrate demanded, staring at our transformed form. "What have you become?"
I—we—smiled with dragon teeth and human kindness intertwined.
"Something you should have feared," we said, our voice carrying both masculine depth and feminine strength. "Something this empire has never seen before."
We stood tall, wings spreading wide, power crackling around us like a storm.
"We are Drakarion and Elara. Dragon and Lifeweaver. Rage and compassion. Destruction and healing." Silver and gold fire ignited along our scales. "We are the Last Flame reborn. And we will end this."
The abomination charged.
We met it head-on.
Our claws clashed with its corrupted ones, and this time, we didn't get pushed back. This time, we matched its strength. This time, we were equal.
The souls, Elara's consciousness reminded me—reminded us. We need to free them.
Right. I focused our combined power, searching for the dark magic holding the abomination together. There. See that core? Inside its chest? That's the anchor point.
If we destroy it—
The souls will be released. But we have to get close enough to strike it.
The abomination's massive jaws snapped at us. We ducked and countered with a blast of our fused power—dragon fire and Lifeweaver magic combined into something that burned with both destruction and healing.
It hit the creature's shoulder, and for a moment, the corrupted flesh cleared. We saw actual dragon scales underneath, clean and pure, before the corruption grew back over them.
It's working! Elara's excitement flooded through us. The healing magic is fighting the corruption!
But not fast enough. I analyzed the situation with dragon tactical thinking combined with Elara's human intuition. We need to hit the core directly. One massive strike.
Which means getting inside its guard.
Which means getting close enough to be killed.
Through our shared consciousness, we made the decision together: Worth the risk.
We dove toward the abomination's chest, ignoring its attempts to grab us, focusing everything on reaching that dark core. The corrupted magistrate tried to intercept, but we batted him aside with our tail.
The abomination's jaws opened wide, preparing to bite us in half.
We didn't slow down.
At the last second, we twisted sideways, sliding between its teeth like a knife into a sheath. Inside its mouth. Inside its throat. Charging toward its heart where the dark core pulsed.
NOW! Elara and I thought as one.
We released every ounce of our combined power in a single, devastating blast. Dragon fire and Lifeweaver magic, destruction and healing, perfectly balanced and infinitely powerful.
The dark core shattered.
The abomination's body convulsed. Its jaw clamped down reflexively, teeth piercing our side. Agony exploded through us.
But then the souls began to emerge.
Hundreds of them—glowing, translucent forms that looked like dragons. They poured out of the abomination's dissolving body, freed at last from their torture. As each soul was released, they turned to us and bowed their heads in gratitude before fading into peaceful light.
The last soul to emerge looked directly at us with ancient, knowing eyes.
Thank you, Last Flame, it said. Thank you, Gentle Heart. You have given us the ending we could not find ourselves.
Then it too faded, and the abomination collapsed into ash.
We dragged ourselves free from its remains, bleeding badly from the teeth wounds. Through our shared consciousness, Elara was already working to heal us from the inside.
The corrupted magistrate landed nearby, his face twisted with rage and terror.
"You destroyed my greatest weapon!" he screamed. "But I am still here! I still have power! I can still—"
"You have nothing," we said calmly, limping toward him despite our wounds. "No weapons. No prisoners. No facility. Just a broken man who hurt others to feel strong."
"I am not broken!" He raised his hands, dark magic swirling. "I am a GOD!"
"No," we said gently. "You're just afraid."
We hit him with a blast of pure Lifeweaver magic—not to destroy, but to heal. To cleanse. To purge the dark magic he'd grafted onto his body.
He screamed as the corrupted power was ripped away, leaving only the middle-aged man underneath. Weak. Powerless. Human.
He collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
"What have you done to me?" he gasped. "Give it back! Give me my power back!"
"No." We turned away from him. "You'll spend the rest of your life as you made others spend theirs—powerless and afraid. Perhaps you'll learn something from it."
We spread our wings to fly away, but Elara's consciousness suddenly spiked with alarm.
Drakarion. Behind us. He's doing something.
I turned just in time to see the magistrate pull out a vial—one last container of stolen dragon blood. He drank it desperately, dark magic flooding back into him, but wrong this time. Unstable.
"If I can't have power," he snarled, his body beginning to glow with dangerous light, "then NOBODY WILL!"
He's going to explode, Elara and I realized together. Like a magical bomb. The blast radius will destroy everything for miles.
We had seconds to decide.
Run and save ourselves, or stay and contain the blast.
Through our fused consciousness, there was no debate. No argument.
We'd both made our choice long ago.
"Everyone else has already run far enough," we said aloud. "But just to be sure—"
We wrapped our wings around the magistrate, creating a shield with our own body. Our scales began to glow as we channeled every last bit of our power into containing his self-destruction.
This is going to hurt, I warned Elara.
I know, she answered. But we're together. That's all that matters.
The magistrate exploded.
The force was beyond anything we'd ever felt. Beyond pain. Beyond comprehension. It felt like being unmade at the molecular level.
But we held. We contained it. We refused to let the destruction spread.
When the light finally faded and we collapsed to the ground, our body was broken. Scales cracked. Wings torn. Breathing labored.
Through our dimming consciousness, we felt others approaching. The freed prisoners. Other dragons. They'd returned despite the danger.
"The Last Flame," someone whispered in awe. "And the Lifeweaver. They saved us all."
"Are they—" Someone else, younger voice. "Are they dying?"
I think we might be, Elara's consciousness admitted to me.
Probably, I agreed. But we did it. We saved them.
Worth it?
Absolutely.
We felt ourselves slipping away, our fused consciousness beginning to separate from our destroyed body.
But then—
A warm sensation spread through our chest. Not painful. Gentle. Like sunlight after rain.
Our bond mark, which we'd thought would die with us, suddenly blazed to life. But not with our power—with power being given to us.
We forced our eyes open and saw them: twelve freed dragons, all placing their claws on our body, pouring their life force into us through our wounds.
"You freed us," one said firmly. "Now let us save you."
"Dragon healing doesn't work like human healing," another explained. "We share life force. All of us together can restore what was broken."
"If you'll accept our gift," the eldest added. "If you'll let us help."
Through our fading consciousness, Elara and I made one last decision together:
Yes. We accept.
The dragons' power poured into us. Not stolen or forced, but freely given. Our wounds began to close. Our scales began to regenerate. Our strength began to return.
And as we healed, something else happened.
Our bond mark—the symbol of our fusion—suddenly expanded, sending tendrils of light to each dragon touching us. Creating new bonds. Weaker than ours, but present.
We were connecting to them. To all of them.
What's happening? Elara wondered.
Pack bond, I explained, ancient knowledge rising up. When dragons share life force, they create family bonds. We're becoming their pack leader.
But I'm not a dragon. I was human.
You're both now. We're both. And apparently— I felt wonder and disbelief warring inside us. —we're also the new Dragon Queen and King. Fused into one.
When the healing finished and we stood up, the twelve dragons bowed their heads.
"Last Flame," they said in unison. "Gentle Heart. We pledge ourselves to you. To your wisdom. To your strength. To your compassion. Lead us, and we will follow."
We stared at them, our fused consciousness struggling to process what had just happened.
We'd come here to free one dragon—Drakarion.
Instead, we'd freed dozens of prisoners, destroyed the empire's ultimate weapons, and somehow become the leader of a new dragon pack.
This is insane, Elara thought.
Completely, I agreed.
What do we do now?
I looked at the freed dragons waiting for guidance. At the ruined facility behind us. At the vast sky above us.
We rebuild, I decided. The empire destroyed dragon civilization. We create it again. Better this time. With compassion instead of just strength.
A civilization led by a fused dragon-human who used to be two separate people?
Exactly.
Through our bond, I felt Elara's emotions: fear, excitement, determination, and underneath it all, absolute trust.
Okay, she said. Let's do it. Let's change the world.
We spread our wings—stronger now, reinforced by dragon healing—and prepared to take flight.
But before we could launch ourselves skyward, a massive magical pulse rippled across the land. So powerful it made even us stagger.
Every dragon present froze, their eyes going wide with ancient recognition.
"That's not possible," one whispered.
"The old magic," another breathed. "The founding magic."
"Someone's activated the Dragon Throne," the eldest said, his voice shaking. "But the Throne has been empty for three hundred years. Who could—"
The pulse came again, and this time, it carried a message. Not in words, but in pure magical meaning that translated itself into our minds:
A NEW DRAGON RULER HAS BEEN CHOSEN. ALL DRAGON-KIN MUST COME TO THE ANCIENT COURT. THE THRONE WILL BE CLAIMED. THE OLD WAYS WILL RETURN.
OR THE WORLD WILL BURN.
We looked at each other—me and Elara, existing as one being now.
"The Dragon Throne," I said aloud. "The seat of power that ruled all dragon civilization before the fall. Someone's trying to claim it."
"Is that bad?" one of the younger freed dragons asked nervously.
"It's catastrophic," I answered grimly. "The Throne doesn't just give political power. It grants magical authority over every dragon alive. Whoever sits on it can command us all. Force us to obey."
Through our shared consciousness, Elara added her human perspective: And if someone cruel sits on that throne—
—they could create an empire of enslaved dragons even worse than what we just escaped, I finished.
The third pulse came, and with it, a vision forced into every dragon mind:
A figure sitting on the ancient Dragon Throne, face hidden in shadow. But their eyes glowed with red fire, and their laugh echoed with malice.
COME TO ME, DRAGONS. COME AND BOW. OR WATCH AS I USE THE THRONE'S POWER TO BURN EVERY HUMAN CITY TO ASH. THE AGE OF HUMANS IS OVER. THE AGE OF DRAGONS RETURNS.
AND THIS TIME, WE WILL SHOW NO MERCY.
The vision faded.
We looked at our pack of twelve freed dragons. At the responsibility we'd just accepted.
"We have to go to the Ancient Court," we said. "We have to stop whoever's trying to claim the Throne."
"But you're injured," one protested. "Still recovering. You need time to—"
"There is no time." We looked toward where the pulse had originated—far to the north, in the mountains humans called the Dragon's Graveyard. "If we don't stop them, this world will be consumed by a war that makes the last Dragon Purge look like a minor disagreement."
Are we really doing this? Elara asked through our shared consciousness. We just defeated one threat. Now we're flying straight into another?
We don't have a choice, I answered. The Throne only activates for someone with royal dragon blood. And I'm the last of the royal line.
Which means—
Which means whoever's on that Throne is either a dragon I thought was dead, or something far worse.
We launched ourselves into the sky, our pack of twelve following faithfully.
Behind us, the sun was setting.
Ahead of us, the Dragon's Graveyard waited.
And somewhere in those ancient mountains, someone—or something—sat on the Dragon Throne with plans to reshape the world.
We were flying toward a confrontation that would determine the fate of both dragons and humans.
And we had no idea if we were strong enough to win.