Chapter 5

The forest watched them.

Elara felt it the moment they crossed the outer gates of the capital. The air shifted, growing cooler despite the ash drifting from the mountains. The trees of the Evershadow Forest twisted toward the sky like blackened fingers, their leaves whispering in a language older than kingdoms.

Verath rode beside her, silent, tense.

“You’re certain we should go ourselves?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re the king.”

“And you’re the reason they’re coming,” he replied evenly. “They won’t show themselves unless you’re present.”

She exhaled slowly. “So I’m bait.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re under my protection.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t.”

They rode deeper into the forest. The light dimmed unnaturally, shadows stretching longer than they should. Elara’s magic stirred uneasily beneath her skin, reacting to the old energy humming through the trees.

“You feel it too,” Verath said.

“Yes.”

“It’s ancient.”

“So is your curse,” she replied.

His gaze flickered toward her. “You’re not wrong.”

A branch snapped ahead.

The guards raised their weapons, but Verath lifted a hand. “Wait.”

Figures stepped from the shadows.

Three women cloaked in deep green, their eyes glowing faintly. Power radiated from them, wild, unrestrained. Witches.

Elara’s pulse jumped.

One stepped forward, older, with silver hair braided with bone charms.

“You bring the healer,” she said, voice soft but cutting.

“I bring no one,” Verath replied coldly. “She stands by choice.”

Elara glanced at him. That wasn't entirely true, but she didn’t argue.

The witch’s gaze shifted to her. “Child of dragon-blood.”

Her stomach tightened. “You know what I am?”

“We know what you could become.”

Verath moved slightly closer to Elara, subtle but protective.

“Say what you came to say,” he warned.

The witch ignored him. “Your power grows, girl. The bond between you deepens. Soon, you will not be able to walk away.”

Elara swallowed. “I don’t plan to.”

Verath’s eyes flickered at that.

“You should,” another witch said. “Dragon bonds consume. They do not share.”

Elara lifted her chin. “He’s not just a dragon.”

“No,” the first witch agreed. “He’s worse. He is king.”

The tension sharpened.

“What do you want?” Verath asked.

“To warn her.”

“I don’t need warnings.”

“You do,” the witch insisted. “The bond you form will awaken more than love. It will awaken the old magic buried in Ashenrealm. Power that destroyed kingdoms.”

Elara’s heart pounded. “And if I refuse?”

“You cannot refuse what your blood demands.”

Verath stepped forward, voice low. “Enough.”

The air heated instantly.

Flames flickered at his fingertips. The witches did not flinch.

“You threaten us, dragon king?” one asked calmly.

“I warn you,” he replied. “Elara is not yours to guide.”

The oldest witch studied them both.

“It’s already begun,” she murmured. “You protect her instinctively. And she calms you.”

Elara felt her cheeks warm.

“This bond will either save your kingdom,” the witch continued, “or burn it to ash.”

Silence followed.

“Is there a way to control it?” Elara asked.

The witch hesitated.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“You must accept it fully.”

Verath stiffened.

“And if we don’t?” he asked.

The witch’s gaze hardened.

“Then the dragon will claim her in fire… not love.”

A chill ran through Elara.

The witches stepped back.

“Our warning is given,” the elder said. “Choose wisely.”

They vanished into the trees.

The forest fell silent again.

Elara released a breath she didn’t realize she held.

“Well,” she said softly, “that was comforting.”

Verath didn’t answer immediately. He stared into the shadows, jaw tight.

“You shouldn’t listen to them,” he finally said.

“They didn’t sound wrong.”

“They want influence.”

“Or they want me alive.”

He turned to her. “So do I.”

Their eyes met.

The bond pulsed faintly.

“You’d rather I leave?” she asked.

His reaction was immediate. “No.”

The word came out harsh, almost desperate.

She stepped closer. “Then what are you afraid of?”

“That I won’t stop myself,” he admitted. “That one day the dragon won’t settle.”

“And you’ll hurt me?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head gently. “You haven’t.”

“Not yet.”

She reached for his hand.

He froze as their fingers intertwined. The now familiar surge of magic flowed between them, calming him instantly.

“You feel that?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“It’s not destruction.”

“No,” he admitted. “It isn’t.”

He lifted their joined hands slightly, studying the glow.

“This bond,” he said softly, “it’s stronger every time.”

She nodded. “And I don’t want to fight it.”

His gaze darkened.

“Elara… if we cross this line…”

“We already have.”

The truth hung between them.

He pulled her closer slowly, as if giving her time to step away.

She didn’t.

The forest air warmed. Leaves rustled. The bond tightened again, humming with energy.

His hand slid to her waist.

“You should stop me,” he murmured.

“You keep saying that.”

“And you keep not listening.”

She smiled faintly. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

His control slipped.

He leaned down, closer than ever before.

But this time, the dragon did not rage.

It settled.

The heat remained gentle, steady.

Their lips hovered a breath apart

Then a distant horn sounded from the capital.

They both froze.

Verath pulled back, frustration flashing across his face.

“Another attack,” he muttered.

Elara exhaled slowly. “They’re not giving us time.”

“No,” he said. “They aren’t.”

He helped her back onto her horse.

But as they rode toward the city, neither of them spoke.

Because both felt it.

The bond had deepened again.

And the next time they were alone

They might not stop.