Part 5: The Last Dragon’s Secret
For two hundred years, Tairn Draven had feared nothing.
Not armies.
Not assassins.
Not the creatures that hunted beneath the Black Mountains.
He had watched cities burn and kingdoms fall. He had buried friends, enemies and everyone foolish enough to stand between him and his throne.
But nothing had ever terrified him as much as the silence beneath Freya’s ribs.
No heartbeat.
No breath.
No warmth.
He held her against his chest.
“Tell me how.”
Seraphine smiled.
“You know what surrendering your dragon means.”
“Tell me.”
“You’ll lose your immortality. Your fire. Your strength.”
Tairn looked down at Freya.
A strand of dark hair lay across her cheek.
He brushed it away.
“How?”
Seraphine’s smile faltered.
“You would become human.”
“Then I become human.”
“You would surrender the throne.”
“Then someone else can sit on the damned thing.”
The queen stared.
For the first time in their long and miserable history, she seemed genuinely unable to understand him.
“You would give up everything?”
Tairn looked at her.
“No.”
He tightened his arms around Freya.
“Everything is right here.”
He closed his eyes.
And called upon his dragon.
Deep inside him, something ancient stirred.
A creature of fire and darkness.
Wings vast enough to cover mountains.
A heart that had beaten for centuries.
The dragon had been with him since birth.
It had given him power.
Protected him.
Isolated him.
And now Tairn asked it to leave.
The creature roared.
The sound shook the foundations of the palace.
Tairn felt his bones begin to crack.
Black scales spread across his skin.
Fire poured from his mouth.
He gritted his teeth.
“Take it.”
Golden light gathered around Freya.
His dragon fought.
Not because it feared death.
Because it knew what Tairn did not.
The First Flame was not a vessel waiting to be filled.
It was the source from which all dragonfire had once been born.
To give his dragon to Freya was not to sacrifice it.
It was to return it home.
The creature bowed its enormous head.
And surrendered.
