Chapter 63

Ash and smoke smeared the horizon, a black tide rolling across the kingdom’s once-green hills. Serenya stood at the edge of Dawnspire’s ruined battlements, her cloak whipping in the furious wind. The sky itself seemed split, torn open by wings—fiery wings that beat with the rhythm of thunder.

Dragons.

Not the gentle, myth-bound creatures she had read about in the hidden library of her childhood, but beasts forged in flame and shadow, chained by oaths older than any crown. Their roars shattered stone, their firestorms turned fields into glass. And at their center, gliding as if he ruled the storm, was Thalric Veynor.

The duke had broken his final mask. No longer the scheming noble with whispered threats, he was commander of a dragon host, his armor gleaming blood-red in the inferno.

Serenya tightened her grip on the ancient blade Maelis had entrusted to her—Starveil, forged from fallen starlight. Even now, the sword hummed with a will of its own, urging her forward.

“Serenya!” Kaelen’s voice cut through the chaos. He strode across the crumbling stones, bloodied but unbowed, eyes fierce with determination. “You can’t face him alone.”

Her heart jolted, not only from fear but from the way his gaze locked onto hers—unyielding, as if she were the only anchor he had left in this unraveling world.

“I was born for this,” she whispered, voice trembling but steady. “The dragons answer to him because he wears the firebrand crown. But the prophecy doesn’t belong to him, Kaelen. It belongs to us.”

Before he could reply, another roar shook the heavens. A dragon dove, its scales molten, its wings blotting out the sun. Serenya threw herself aside as its talons scraped stone, pulling half the wall with it. Kaelen rolled beside her, shielding her with his body as debris rained down.

“Still think you can do this alone?” he growled.

She almost smiled, though her chest ached with the weight of their fate. “Then we do it together.”

The battle spread like wildfire. Rebels clashed with Thalric’s loyalists on the ground below, steel ringing against steel. In the skies, dragons tore through air and fire, leaving trails of destruction that burned into memory. Serenya and Kaelen fought their way across the battlements, each step a war for survival.

Darian Crestfall appeared from the smoke, his once-polished armor dented and smeared with ash. He blocked a blow meant for Serenya, his sword clanging against an enemy knight’s halberd.

“I swore an oath to protect the crown,” Darian shouted, slaying his foe with a precise strike, “and that crown rests with you, Serenya!”

Her throat tightened. Once, Darian’s loyalty had been to Eloria Thorne, the rival princess. Yet here he stood, bleeding for her. The cost of every allegiance weighed on her, but there was no time to untangle it now.

Above them, Thalric descended atop his dragon, its scales flaring like liquid gold. The beast’s maw opened, fire building in its throat.

“Move!” Kaelen dragged Serenya just as the flames erupted. The battlements exploded, stone and screams hurled into the storm. Serenya’s ears rang, her vision blurred, but she kept her grip on Starveil.

Thalric’s voice thundered over the chaos. “Bow, Serenya Vale! The crown was never yours to claim. You are nothing but a shadow, a forgotten child!”

She forced herself to her feet, rage lancing through her veins. “A forgotten child who will end you.”

Starveil blazed as she raised it high. The sword answered her fury, flaring with a light that outshone the dragonfire. For an instant, the flames faltered, recoiling from its brilliance.

Kaelen’s eyes widened. “It responds to you… like it’s alive.”

“It is alive,” Maelis’s voice echoed suddenly. The seer stumbled into view, her staff glowing faintly, her robes scorched. “The blade carries the soul of the first starborn. Serenya, it will only reveal its wings to one who dares burn for love and kingdom alike.”

Wings.

The word seared itself into Serenya’s mind. She looked at the blade—and then, impossibly, luminous wings unfurled from its hilt, spectral fire woven from starlight. The wings wrapped around her like armor, shielding her from the next surge of dragonfire.

Gasps rippled through ally and enemy alike. Even the dragons hesitated mid-flight, their instincts bowing to the ancient power reborn.

Kaelen stared at her, awe breaking through his battle-hardened mask. “You’re not just the heiress. You’re the fire the prophecy spoke of.”

Serenya spread the spectral wings, feeling their strength pour into her veins. She launched into the air, carried not by stone or flesh but by destiny itself. The sky opened to her, and for the first time, she soared.

Thalric roared in fury, urging his dragon higher. They clashed mid-air, steel against claw, starlight against fire. Each strike shook the sky, their battle painting the heavens in fire and brilliance.

On the ground, rebels raised their swords, hope blazing anew. “The starborn rises!” they cried.

But the power came at a price. Every beat of the spectral wings drained her, every clash tore deeper into her soul. She faltered once, nearly dropping Starveil. Thalric seized the opening, striking with a blow that sent pain screaming through her side.

Kaelen’s voice cut across the battlefield. “Serenya! Don’t give him your fear. Give him your fire!”

Her vision blurred with tears and smoke. She thought of her hidden childhood, of the endless disguises, the lies, the pain of never being herself. She thought of Kaelen, his hand steady on hers, his heart refusing to let her fall.

And she let it all ignite.

Starveil erupted, wings flaring so brightly the sky itself fractured with light. She drove forward, piercing through Thalric’s dragonfire, cutting through his defenses. One final strike split his crown in two, shards tumbling into the abyss below.

The dragon beneath him shrieked, buckling in agony. For a heartbeat, Serenya thought it would take them both into the depths.

But then—silence.

The beast faltered, wings folding, its rider screaming as they plummeted into the firelit ruins.

Serenya hovered, wings of starlight trembling, body screaming with exhaustion. Below, the battlefield stilled. Friend and foe alike stared upward, knowing the tide had shifted.

Yet as her vision dimmed, a whisper curled in her ear—familiar, venomous.

“This is not over.”

Her eyes snapped open. Thalric’s voice. But he should have fallen, broken, ended.

The shadow of his crownless figure rose in the inferno below, darker and more terrible than before.

And in that moment, Serenya realized with horror—his fall had only awakened something worse.