Oath of the Broken Sword Chapter 21

The wind screamed past my ears, a torrent of ice and fury. Below, the world sprawled in a patchwork of fading greens and jagged greys—the outer reaches of the Empire giving way to the untamed chaos of the fractured lands. Clutching the smooth, cool scales of Silvershine’s neck, I felt the familiar thrum of her heartbeat against my palms, a steady rhythm against the chaos in my own mind.

*We are being summoned, Little Spark,* her voice resonated directly in my thoughts, a low hum of ancient power and unease. *The Song of the Ancients grows urgent. The Dragon-Slumber Sanctuary awaits.*

“I feel it too,” I whispered, the words snatched away by the gale. It was a pull, a deep, instinctual tugging at the core of my being, where the dormant Source Runes slumbered. It felt like a forgotten memory trying to surface. Ever since we had uncovered the first fragments of truth about my heritage—the tainted blood of a shattered god flowing in my veins—the world had become a lattice of hidden currents. Now, one of those currents was dragging us inexorably toward the clouds.

“How much further?” I called out.

*The mists veil the path. But the Song is clear. Hold fast.*

We pierced a blanket of cloud, the world vanishing into a swirling grey whiteness. The air grew thin and crackled with latent magic. Then, as suddenly as we had entered the haze, we emerged into a realm of impossible light. The Dragon-Slumber Sanctuary wasn’t built on any mountain I knew. It was a collection of colossal, crystalline structures floating amidst the endless sky, connected by arches of solidified light. The spires glittered like a constellation torn from the heavens and given form. The sheer scale of it stole my breath. This was a place of legends, a truth hidden from the mortal world below.

Silvershine descended toward the largest central spire, her vast wings beating soundlessly against the enchanted atmosphere. As we landed on a platform of seamless white stone, figures emerged from the shimmering light of the central hall. They were immense, their scales reflecting hues of gold, bronze, and deepest obsidian. The air grew heavy with their presence, a pressure that made my own runes itch beneath my skin. The Elders of the Dragon Parliament.

One, a dragon whose golden scales seemed to hold the light of a thousand suns, stepped forward. Its eyes, ancient and piercing, fixed on me.

*The blood of the Sunderer stirs,* a voice boomed in my mind, bypassing my ears entirely. It was the Golden Elder. *You bear the mark of the one who broke the celestial accord, child of man. Why have you answered the summoning?

*

I slid from Silvershine’s back, my legs trembling only slightly. I forced my spine straight, meeting its gaze. “I did not seek this. The summoning found me. I am Elia of the Borderlands, a rider of the Sky-Cleaving Knight Order.” The titles felt flimsy here, like children’s make-believe.

A ripple of what felt like amusement passed through the assembled dragons. The obsidian-black dragon, radiating an aura of simmering aggression, snorted, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils. *A ‘knight’. The puppets of the upstart empire that scours our sacred earth for magical veins. Your master, Marcus, plots with the vermin who worship the Void. And you, a scion of the very power they seek to usurp, serve him?

The irony is… delectable.*

“I serve no one blindly,” I shot back, a spark of defiance igniting within me. “I seek the truth. About my past. About the Broken Throne everyone whispers of.”

*The Throne is not a relic to be claimed,* Silvershine’s telepathic voice cut in, sharp defensive. *It is a testament to a failure that nearly unmade this world. The child is not her ancestor. She has proven her worth.*

*Has she?

* the Golden Elder’s thought was neutral, weighing. *The Song called to the purity of the bloodline, not the character of the vessel. The test will determine which prevails.*

Before I could ask what test, the world dissolved around me. The crystalline architecture, the elder dragons, even Silvershine—all vanished. I stood alone in an expanse of featureless white. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at my throat.

*The Trial of Echoes,* the Elder’s voice explained, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. *To wield the Spacetime Runes, you must first face the ghosts of time itself. You must understand the weight of the power you carry.*

A scene flickered to life before me. I saw a figure cloaked in brilliant light, features blurred but undeniably sharing my bloodline’s resonance. My progenitor. He stood before a throne of swirling cosmos—the Broken Throne—and with a gesture, reality splintered. I saw the God-Sundering War, continents cracking, the skies weeping fire. I felt the catastrophic pride, the devastating responsibility, the moment of ultimate failure. It was not just a vision;

it was an empathic torrent. I lived his ambition and his despair.

“No!” I gasped, falling to my knees. The weight of a god’s folly threatened to crush my spirit. “This is not my burden.”

*Is it not?

* the echo of my ancestor whispered. *The power is yours to claim. Remake the world. Correct my mistake. The throne awaits its true heir.*

The temptation was a physical ache. To have that power… to stop the marching armies of the Empire, to shield the innocent, to bring order to the chaos… I could do it. I saw how.

But then another surfaced. Kaela’s face, fierce and determined, as we sparred in the training grounds. The stern but fair gaze of Deputy Commander Renn. The quiet strength of Althea, the medic. The simple, honest memory of Old Man Oliver from my village. A world of intricate, fragile connections, not one to be smashed and remade, but to be protected.

“I am not you,” I said, my voice strengthening. I pushed myself to my feet, confronting the shimmering ghost of my power. “Your path was one of solitary might. Mine… mine is woven with others. I will not break the world to save it. I will fight for the one that exists.”

The vision shattered.

I was back on the platform, panting as if I’d run for miles. The elder dragons regarded me silently. The Golden Elder inclined its head a fraction.

*You have chosen connection over dominion. The Spacetime Runes acknowledge this.* A warmth bloomed in my chest, and a new pattern, intricate and swirling with potential, etched itself into my awareness alongside my existing elemental runes. I understood its basics not as a weapon, but as a tool for preservation—to mend, to shield, to navigate.

*The truth you seek is this,* the Elder continued, its tone grave. *The Broken Throne is both a lock and a key. The forces of the Empire and the Twilight Cult seek to use your blood to activate it, not to restore balance, but to open a gateway for their respective masters—a new god of order or the Void Lord of chaos. The prophecy of the Throne’s return is a countdown to annihilation.*

The revelation hit me like a physical blow. Marcus wasn’t just a ambitious general;

he was a pawn in a cosmic game. And I was the prize.

Suddenly, a violent tremor ran through the floating sanctuary. One of the smaller crystalline spires cracked, shimmering fragments drifting into the abyss.

*What is this?

!

* roared the Obsidian Elder.

A smaller, younger dragon, its scales the colour of jade, flew toward us in a panic. *E!

A message from the mortal realm, carried on the dying breath of a wind spirit!

The Imperial Capital… it has fallen!

Marshal Marcus has betrayed the Emperor!

Augustus VII is imprisoned!

The coup has begun!

*

Kaela. The Princess. Everyone in the capital. My blood ran cold. The political collapse we had feared was no longer a threat;

it was a reality.

“I have to go back,” I said, my voice tight with a new kind of resolve. The newfound Spacetime Rune hummed in agreement.

The Obsidian Elder scoffed. *This is a mortal squabble. Our laws forbid interference.*

*The threads are connected, Destroyer-Wing,* Silvershine countered, her voice icy. *The coup is the first move in the greater game for the Throne. To stand aside is to choose a side by default.*

The Golden Elder observed me for a long, silent moment. *The dragon-kind shall not march to war. But… a single rider, answering the call of her oaths to her Order and her comrades… that is a matter of individual choice. The Sanctuary’s neutrality remains.* It was a loophole, and a deliberate one.

I looked at Silvershine. She lowered her great head, her silver eyes meeting mine. *Our pact was forged in fire, Little Spark. We face the coming storm together.*

I climbed onto her back, the new rune pulsing with energy. I knew what I had to do. We had to get back to the heart of the Empire. We had to find our allies in the chaos. And I had to face Marcus.

“Then let’s go,” I said. “The fate of the world isn’t just in some throne. It’s in the people fighting for it.”

As Silvershine surged upward, leaving the serene horror of the sanctuary behind, the tranquil sky gave way to the dark, gathering clouds of war. The choice had been made. The path ahead was paved with blood and betrayal, but for the first time, I saw it clearly. It was my path.