The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 87

LIRA

I ran.

The skirts of my night cloak tangled around my legs as I tore down the corridor, my breath burning in my chest, my pulse pounding so loudly I was certain the guards could hear it. Behind me, boots struck stone.

“Stop!” someone shouted.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I turned sharply, slipping through a narrow archway just as torchlight flooded the hall behind me. My fingers found the seam in the wall without thinking, muscle memory guided by fear and the dragon’s voice, low and urgent in my skull.

'Now.'

I pressed.

Stone sighed open, silent as a held breath, and I slipped through just as my hand swiped for my cloak. The wall sealed behind me with a soft click.

The shouts faded.

I didn’t slow until my lungs screamed and the familiar damp heat of the passageway wrapped around me like a living thing. Only then did I stop, bending forward, hands braced on my knees, shaking.

“You are late,” the dragon’s voice rumbled, no longer distant, no longer restrained.

“I almost didn’t make it,” I whispered. “They were outside my door.”

“You chose,” the dragon said. “That is enough.”

My arms ached as I adjusted the bundle clutched to my chest. Even wrapped in layers of fabric, the egg pulsed with warmth, too warm. Alive in a way that felt frantic, desperate.

“I brought it,” I said hoarsely. “I did what you asked.”

The cavern opened before me, vast and terrible, lit by veins of molten gold running through the stone like the heartbeat of the earth itself. Chains glinted faintly in the half-light, ancient and cruel, binding the dragon where she lay coiled in constrained fury.

The dragon's eyes burning, endless, fixed on the bundle in my arms.

“Come closer,” she said.

Every instinct screamed at me not to, but my feet moved anyway.

I knelt at the edge of the heat-scorched stone and carefully unwrapped the egg, laying it gently upon the ground between us. The moment it touched the earth, the cavern seemed to inhale.

The egg shuddered.

A thin crack split its surface.

My breath caught. “It’s, it’s cracking.”

“Yes,” the dragon said, awe and pain threading her voice. “Or it is dying.”

The crack widened.

The dragon shifted, chains rattling violently as flame gathered in her throat, bright and terrible.

Fear slammed into me.

I knew that heat.

I knew what came next.

I raised my chin anyway.

“If you’re going to kill me,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself, “then do it. But remember I brought the egg back to you."

The fire surged.

For one suspended heartbeat, I was certain I would burn.

I was certain that it was the end. And that I would never live again. I knew it would hurt, but running was useless anyways.

Then, nothing.

The flame guttered out, dissipating into smoke and heat that washed over me without harm.

The dragon exhaled, long and ragged.

“I will not,” she said quietly, “kill the daughter of the man who tried to save us.”

My knees nearly gave out.

I swallowed hard. “Will the egg live?”

The dragon’s gaze flicked back to the trembling shell. “I do not know.”

The crack spread, branching like frost over glass.

A soft sound followed, small, almost pitiful.

Then the shell broke.

Pieces fell away, revealing a tiny, moon-white form curled within, slick and trembling. A delicate head lifted, blinking pale silver eyes at the world for the first time.

“Oh,” I breathed.

The baby dragon let out a sound, more chirp than roar, and wobbled, collapsing clumsily onto its belly.

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, tears brimming in my eyes. It bubbled up, sharp and hysterical and full of relief.

I just witnessed the birth of a dragon. A rare and historical moment that humans were rarely able to watch.

The great dragon let out a sound that might have been a sob.

“My blood,” she whispered.

The hatchling pushed itself upright again, little wings flapping uselessly. It sneezed, a puff of harmless smoke curling into the air.

The dragon’s gaze shifted to me. “You saved my egg. You brought it back when all others used it as a leverage.”

“I didn’t do it for your gratitude,” I said softly. “I did it because it was wrong.”

“Then you are more worthy than any human I've ever met,” she said.

The hatchling turned, drawn by my voice, and waddled toward me, tripping over its own feet.

“Wait...” I whispered, holding out my hands instinctively.

It bumped into my knee and chirped again, pressing its tiny forehead against my leg.

Something clicked inside me.

A warmth bloomed in my chest, gentler than the egg’s frantic heat, but deeper. It spread through my veins, settling into my bones like it had always been there.

The dragon stilled, pale eyes staring into my soul.

“No,” " the dragon said slowly. “It has chosen.”

My heart pounded. “Chosen?”

“It has bonded,” she said. “With you.”

“I didn’t... I didn’t mean to...”

“You did not force it,” she interrupted. “That is why it is true.”

The hatchling looked up at me expectantly.

“You must name it,” the dragon said. “By ancient law. The one who saves a dragon and is chosen by it names it.”

My throat tightened.

I looked at the tiny creature, alive because I had refused to let the crown decide its fate.

“Luna,” I whispered. “For the moon. And for rebirth.”

The baby dragon chirped, delighted, and repeated the sound in a warped, infant echo.

“Lu-na,” it squeaked.

The warmth in my chest flared.

The dragon watched us, something like fierce gratitude burning through her pain.

“My name,” she said, “is Veyraxis.”

I repeated it softly. “Veyraxis.”

She nodded. “Your father knew my name.”

I nodded slowly. “You knew my father."

“Knew him,” she said. “And loved him, as one loves a brave fool.”

Tears burned my eyes. “What really happened to him? You promised to tell me."

Veyraxis's voice darkened.

“He came to me. He said he could feel me underneath. Your father, Lord Sutton, for generations his forefathers had served the crown. But before they served the crown, they used to be the true wielders of magic. Before the First Pact, your ancestors were blessed with that power. Some remnants of it remains in your blood. I recognized it and called to you."

“Was that why he was able to enter the vault? Like I can?,” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “The crown never understood why he could pass where others could not. They thought it treachery. It was compatibility. The wards in this palace are older than the crown itself, created by dragons themselves. Only a true magic wielder can break them."

My fists clenched. “My father, he tried to free you.”

“He did,” she said. “When he saw what was done to me, he wanted to free me right away. But I could not leave without the egg. He tried to return my egg to me. When they discovered his intent, they accused him of treason.”

My vision blurred. “They killed him.”

“They silenced him forever,” Veyraxis said. “Because he knew their greatest lie. I told him the real truth."

My voice shook. “What lie?”

“That the crown’s power was never theirs,” she said. “It was stolen. The story of the First Pact and magic bestowed upon humans was a lie. The first king who was gifted magic from Taheer, who fed him his blood was King Gavin. He created the First Pact as a ruse, to keep the balance he said. It was all a lie. He fed the blood of dragons to his noble friends and that magic stayed in their generations."

"The Crown do not keep us dragons around because they like us. They keep us around to use as they like. Control us."

Rage coiled in my chest, hot and sharp.

“They used you,” I said. “Used your child.”

“Yes,” she replied. “And they would have let the egg die if it meant keeping me locked under here forever.”

Luna chirped softly, curling closer to me.

“I want to destroy them,” I said, the words raw and honest. “Every lie. Everything. For what they sid to my father."

Veyraxis's gaze burned. “Then free me.”

“I will,” I said without hesitation. “Tell me how.”

She lowered her head, chains creaking. “These chains are sealed with powerful magic. And I am too weak to break them. There is only one thing that can.”

“And after I help you?" I asked.

“After,” she said, “the crown will fall.”

I nodded, heart hardening.

When I finally turned to leave, Luna trailed after me, chirping until her mother gently nudged it back with her snout.

“Go,” she told me. “Carry my fire with you.”