Marcus' POV
Fire roared toward us.
I threw up my hands. The dragon mark blazed. Golden light exploded outward, meeting the flames.
Fire and light clashed in midair. The impact threw me backward. I hit a pew hard, wood cracking under my weight.
"Marcus!" Isadora dragged me behind the altar. "What is that thing?"
"My ancestor. I think." I peeked over the altar. "And apparently, she's pissed."
The statue-woman stepped down from her pedestal, each footfall shaking the chamber. The dragon followed, stone wings scraping against the ceiling.
"You wear the face of my blood," she said, voice echoing. "But your soul reeks of another world. Explain yourself, thief."
Thief. Everyone kept calling me that.
"I didn't steal anything!" I shouted back. "Aurelius summoned me! Used some ritual—"
"Lies!" She thrust her hand forward. The dragon opened its jaws.
More fire.
I rolled left. Flames scorched where I'd been standing, melting stone like wax.
This was insane. How was a statue alive? How was any of this real?
"She's not truly alive. Memory given form. Guardian magic protecting the sacred space."
The voice in my head. My dragon. Still offering answers I didn't understand.
"How do I stop her?" I gasped, dodging another blast.
"Prove you're worthy. Show her the mark. Show her you carry true tamer blood."
I scrambled to my feet, holding up my glowing palm. "Look! The dragon mark! I'm a tamer too!"
She paused. Tilted her head. "The mark proves nothing. Any fool with stolen magic can fake a glow."
"Then what do you want? Blood? DNA test? Because I'm fresh out of—"
The dragon lunged.
I didn't think. Just acted. Thrust both hands forward and screamed.
Not words. Something older. A language I'd never learned but somehow knew.
The dragon froze mid-lunge. Its eyes widened.
The woman stared. "That command... only true tamers speak the old tongue."
"Yeah, well, surprise. I'm full of things I shouldn't know." I kept my hands up, even though my arms shook from exhaustion. "Now can we talk like civilized people? Or are you gonna keep trying to roast me?"
She studied me for a long moment. Then laughed. Sharp and bitter.
"You have courage, I'll give you that. Foolish courage." She lowered her hand. The dragon settled, but didn't retreat. "Very well. Speak. Explain how a foreign soul wears my descendant's flesh."
I told her everything. Chicago. Vinnie's betrayal. Waking up in Aurelius's body. The Covenant. The journal.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she was quiet. Then: "You're saying my descendant chose this? Chose to die and summon a stranger?"
"According to his journal, yeah."
"And you believe this journal?"
"I've got his memories bleeding into mine. I feel what he felt. See what he saw." My voice cracked. "He loved Isadora. Wanted to save the kingdom. Knew he was too weak to do it himself. So he found someone strong enough."
The woman's expression softened. Just a fraction. "That sounds like him. Always sacrificing for others. Even as a child." She touched her chest. "I'm Elara. First of the dragon tamers. Mother to the bloodline you now carry."
"You're Aurelius's ancestor from two hundred years ago?"
"Two hundred and seventeen, to be precise." She gestured at the chamber. "I bound my essence here to guard our secrets. Protect the knowledge the Covenant wants destroyed."
"Why does the Covenant hate dragon tamers so much?"
"Because we represent everything they fear—power they can't control. Two centuries ago, tamers ruled fairly. Protected both humans and magical beings. But the Covenant wanted absolute control. They started the Dragon Purge. Hunted us down. Killed our dragons. Erased our history."
Isadora emerged from behind the altar. "But some escaped."
"One line. Mine." Elara looked at me. "Your line now. The Covenant thought they'd killed the last of us. They were wrong. We went into hiding. Became common. Invisible."
My heart stopped. "Aurelius's real parents. The ones swapped at birth. They were tamers?"
"His mother was. A farmer's daughter who could calm wild animals with a touch. She didn't know her heritage. The bloodline had been buried so deep, the magic slept." Elara smiled sadly. "Until the Covenant's own Queen unknowingly swapped her magical baby for a common one. Irony at its finest."
"So Aurelius had tamer blood all along."
"Dormant. Weak. But yes. When he performed the summoning ritual, his tamer magic reached across worlds. Found a soul compatible. Strong. Willing to sacrifice." She looked at me. "It found you."
I thought about my life in Chicago. Building an empire. Protecting my people. Dying for... what? Pride? Territory?
"I wasn't a good person," I said quietly. "I hurt people. Broke laws. I was a criminal."
"And yet you came back for Isadora in the tower. Risked yourself for Lowtown. Used power that costs pieces of your soul to protect others." Elara moved closer. "The ritual doesn't call good people or bad people. It calls compatible people. Souls that match what's needed."
"What's needed is a monster?"
"What's needed is someone who understands power. Who's not afraid to use it. Who's survived impossible odds." She touched my marked palm. Her fingers felt warm despite being stone. "Someone who can do what gentle Aurelius couldn't. Fight back."
The weight of it crushed me. "I don't know how to be what you need."
"Neither did I." She gestured at the dragon. "When I first bonded with Saeris here, I was terrified. A seventeen-year-old girl being offered the power to reshape kingdoms? I nearly refused."
"What changed your mind?"
"I watched good people suffer while evil people ruled. Realized that power in the right hands stops power in the wrong ones." She squeezed my hand. "You've already proven yourself worthy. Now you need to learn control."
"The voice said using the dragon's power erases pieces of me."
"It does. Every time you call its strength without proper training, you lose a memory. An emotion. Eventually, nothing of Marcus or Aurelius remains. Just the beast."
"So how do I train?"
She pointed behind the altar. A book lay there, ancient and thick. "My journal. Everything I learned about bonding with dragons. Controlling the power. Staying human despite the beast inside."
I moved toward it. My hand trembled as I reached—
The chamber shook. Dust rained from the ceiling.
"What's that?" Isadora grabbed my arm.
Elara's face went dark. "They've found the entrance. The Covenant's agents. They must've tracked the dragon mark's energy."
"How many?"
"Enough." She looked at me. "Take the book. The hidden passage behind the altar leads to the palace catacombs. Run."
"What about you?"
"I'm already dead, boy. Have been for two centuries. I'll hold them off. Give you time."
"I can fight—"
"No." Her voice went hard. "You're untrained. Exhausted. You'd die in seconds. And the bloodline would die with you." She pushed me toward the altar. "Run. Learn. Grow strong. Then come back and finish what I started."
The shaking grew worse. Voices echoed from above. Guards. Covenant agents. Coming fast.
"Marcus, we have to go!" Isadora pulled me toward the hidden passage.
I grabbed the book. Heavy. Old. Pages filled with cramped handwriting.
Elara smiled. "One more thing. Your ancestor—Aurelius's mother—her name was Mira. She's still alive. In Lowtown. Find her. She doesn't know what she is, but her blood remembers."
"The laundry woman?" I remembered the journal mentioning someone named Mira.
"The same. Protect her. She's the only other tamer left."
The ceiling cracked. Stone crashed down.
Isadora shoved me into the passage. Darkness swallowed us.
Behind us, Elara's voice rang out: "For the bloodline! For the tamers!"
The dragon roared. Fire lit the chamber.
Then the passage door slammed shut.
We ran through pitch-black tunnels, only Isadora's candle lighting the way.
"This connects to the palace?" I gasped.
"If Elara was right, yes. But Marcus—" She stopped. "Look at your hand."
I held it up. The dragon mark glowed brighter than ever. And it was spreading. Scales of light creeping up my wrist. My forearm.
"It's getting worse," I said.
"We need to read that book. Fast. Before—"
A scream cut through the tunnel. Behind us. Elara.
Then silence.
Whatever she was—memory, ghost, guardian—the Covenant had destroyed her.
My chest tightened with anger. With loss. For a woman I'd known five minutes but who'd given everything to protect me.
"She bought us time," Isadora said softly. "Don't waste it."
We kept moving. The tunnel sloped upward. Finally, we emerged in a dusty chamber filled with old furniture.
"Where are we?" I asked.
Isadora looked around. Her face went pale. "The Queen's old chambers. Aurelius's mother. She died here ten years ago."
A chill ran down my spine. "We're in the palace? How did we not get caught?"
"These rooms are sealed. Nobody comes here. The King forbids it." She moved to the door, pressed her ear against it. "I hear voices. Guards. Lots of them."
"Can we get past?"
"Maybe. If we're quiet. If we're lucky." She looked at me. "And if that mark stops glowing like a beacon."
I tried to will the light down. It didn't work.
"The book," I said. "Maybe there's something—"
I opened it. The first page made my blood run cold.
In Elara's handwriting:
"To the tamer who reads this: congratulations. You survived the first test. But know this—awakening the dragon mark attracts every Covenant agent within fifty miles. They will hunt you. Kill you. Destroy everyone you love. You have three days before the mark becomes permanent. Three days to master the first bond. Or three days until you become the beast. Choose wisely. —E"
Three days.
I'd already used two.
"Isadora," I said quietly. "We have a problem."
The door burst open.
Guards flooded in. Twenty. Thirty. More behind them.
And leading them, Lord Greymont smiled. "Prince Aurelius. Or should I say, abomination. You're under arrest for murder, treason, and consorting with dark magic."
"Murder? I haven't killed anyone!"
"Haven't you?" He stepped aside.
They dragged in a body. Covered with a sheet.
Greymont yanked it off.
My stomach lurched.
Dante. Eyes wide. Dead. A dragon mark burned into his chest.
"Your magic killed him," Greymont said. "Burned him from the inside. Just like it'll burn everyone you touch. You're not a prince. You're a plague."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Dante was dead. The first person to believe in me. Gone.
And they were blaming me.
"I didn't—" I started.
"Save it for your trial." Greymont nodded to the guards. "Chain him. The execution is at dawn."
They grabbed me. Heavy chains wrapped around my wrists, my neck.
Isadora fought. "He's innocent! This is a setup!"
"Then you can die beside him." Greymont's smile widened. "Chain her too."
As they dragged us away, I saw it. On Greymont's hand. A faint mark. Glowing.
Not a dragon.
A serpent.
He was a tamer too. But not like me.
Something twisted. Wrong. Evil.
And in six hours, he was going to execute me.
Unless I became the monster they already thought I was.