3. Tribute.

~DAHLIA~

The journey to Drakarith is long. Brutal. And without rest.

But I am not going to die that easily.

I didn't stay alive all these years just to simply watch Andessa and her rotten fertilized eggs completely pollute everything that my father worked so hard for.

I am not going to die.

Sitting shackled inside the steel cage transporting me to Drakarith, I try to make more sense of my surroundings with the help of the morning dawn now rising.

The soldiers accompanying me on this exiled journey are not Velmirian.

They are Drakarithian soldiers.

Andessa probably had them on standby back in Velmira to whisk me away as fast as she could.

Velmira has long since vanished beyond huge mountain cliffs, swallowed by thick white mist and an ancient wall of magic wards and shards that was built many centuries ago by the ancestral Dragon Kings of Drakarith.

The wall of dragon magic now grants limited access to our human kingdom of Velmira after our alliance with them was forged.

An alliance I just got to know about last night.

The wagon jolts violently over uneven rocks along the path, dragging me farther away from the only home I have ever known. Never before have I ever dreamt that I would be a tribute.

Yes, I always knew I may never marry someone I love. That my marriage would be only for the better interests of the Kingdom of Velmira.

But this…. sending me to Drakarith as a queen tribute is both a grave insult to me and a death sentence despite the alliance.

Andessa planned this from the beginning.

She watched my father grow weak, pretended to care, tore me away from him, all the while poisoning him in secret.

And now, he is dead. I have been betrayed and casted away. Discarded like trash and stripped of my rights as the Crown Princess of Velmira.

But I will not break.

Even if I am going to die, I will not die the way Andessa intends.

The wagon rattles on towards a landmark boundary. The world ahead of the path near the boundary begins growing darker.

More wild.

As the wagon passes the boundary, I look back and watch the rest of the lush golden fields of the outskirts of Velmira fade into twisted forests with charred burnt trees, cracked bare earth, and the air begins to smell of smoke and complete desertion.

Like death and violence.

I look up and even find the sky above that was bright and blue now slowly turning dark grey, as if a thunderstorm is coming.

I am no longer in Velmira.

But wait, is this the Drakarith? The great, Almighty Drakarith?!

There is an unnatural silence everywhere around us as the wagon keeps moving on. Even the horses seem uneasy, their ears flicking back and forth in distress with their low neighing sounds.

But we keep moving on until nightfall. Not stopping even for a few seconds.

“We've reached the Frozen Pass,” one of the soldiers tells another who looks like he's the one in charge.

“Keep moving,” the soldier in charge replies. The convoy doesn't stop journeying ahead. I quickly look around me despite the darkness only dispersed by the burning fire torches carried by the soldiers.

I have heard stories of the Frozen Pass. This place further separates the world of the humans completely from the world of the dragons.

The night wind howls coldly, slicing through my thin dress and making me bite back a sharp shiver. Time passes, and I don't count how long, but later, my eyes land at a vast wasteland of ash-covered earth just ahead of us, bordered by black mountains on the sides with the mountains looking like volcanos that are bleeding red fire lavas from the top.

As we pass by the mountains, I gasp.

Bless the Creator.

Those mountains are indeed volcanos bleeding red molten fire lavas with their colors and smokes bathing the sky above them pure red.

After we pass the volcanos, I am met with another sight that steals another gasp from me. Further ahead in the distance, nestled between two towering mountain peaks, stands what looks like a mighty fortress with equally mighty tall entry gates that appear so black even in the darkness of the night.

All I can instantly think about is this must be the domain of the Dragon King.

I suck in a sharp breath.

It is intimidating and unlike anything I have ever seen.

And in there, the Dragon King is probably awaiting me. A ruler who sits upon a throne earned with blood, his kingdom built upon the ruins of those who dared defy him.

Some say he is immortal. Untouchable.

Others claim he is a monster, more beast than man. A warlord who crushes his enemies without remorse.

And now, I am being sent to him as an offering. His Queen Tribute.

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.

No. I am not an offering.

I am not prey.

I am a wolf.

And wolves do not give up without a fight.

The wagon reaches the entry gates and passes through, and I find myself staring up at massive spires jutting into the sky. Some of their tips are crowned with dragon statues bearing massive bowls that breathe and burn real fire. Also, the walls of the fortress are pure obsidian, looking smooth, very dark, and reflecting the flickering flames that burn in the braziers lining the fortress.

Chills upon chills run down my spine and entire body.

This place looks like an absinworm beast more than large enough to swallow me alive if I am not careful.

But I plan to be. I already have so much I have planned to achieve for myself in this place.

The first is to NOT DIE.

The wagon reaches the entrance of the fortress building, and waiting right there at the entrance, standing alone like a shadow carved from the night itself, is a man in black armor lined with gold and a kingly crown upon his head.

His presence is so powerful that it can be felt like cold mist dew sinking directly into my veins. Even the soldiers around me seem to tense at his presence.

This man must be Azraelyrs.

The Dragon King of Drakarith.