In a faraway kingdom where the stars bled gold and the winds whispered in dragon tongue, there stood a realm unlike any other-Dravaryn, the land of flame and shadow.

Bound to the bones of the mountains and the veins of ancient fire, Dravaryn was once ruled by the Dragon Queen, Seraphina Veyr. Her soul was bound to the mighty red beast, Vaelkris, a dragon of old blood and burning wrath. Together, they were unchallenged, beloved, and feared. Until the night the skies screamed.

It was the night the prophecy stirred.

> "When twin flames clash beneath a blood-red moon, the skies shall weep fire, the crown shall break, and a child of ruin and rebirth shall rise to tame the last flame."

No one knew what it meant. Or perhaps, everyone pretended not to.

The Queen had died that night-her body found charred to bone in the throne chamber, and Vaelkris... vanished into myth. Some claimed he burned himself to ash in grief. Others whispered that he still lived, hiding in the deep, his fire stoked by vengeance. But one thing was certain: the Dragon Throne had fallen silent.

Fifteen years have passed.

Now, the royal line lies fractured, held together by ambition, secrets, and broken oaths. Dravaryn teeters on the brink of civil war, with warlords eyeing the empty throne and foreign empires circling like vultures. Yet deep within the capital, hidden behind warded walls and cloaked servants, a girl dreams of fire.

Her name is Kaelith.

She is the last true heir of Seraphina Veyr... and she doesn't know it.

The dawn was soft when it touched the towers of Ashenhold Castle, gilding the spires with molten gold. Kaelith stood barefoot on the outer balcony of the western wing, the wind tugging at her raven curls. Her grey cloak flapped behind her like wings as she watched the horizon burn with light.

Every morning, she did the same-rose before the others, crept past the dozing guards, and climbed the narrow staircase to this spot. Something in her blood called her here. Something old.

And lately... it had begun to stir.

She didn't know where she came from, only that the royal steward, Lord Malric, had taken her in as a child and claimed she was a servant's orphan. But Kaelith had never believed that. Not when she could hear dragon songs in her sleep. Not when fire danced at her fingertips whenever she was angry.

This morning was different.

The wind had changed. The sky, once blue, now wore streaks of crimson. And in the distance, she could swear she heard it-the deep, ancient roar of something that shouldn't exist.

A dragon.

Kaelith's breath caught.

Down in the courtyard, guards scrambled as horns blared. A black banner rose on the outer walls-an attack. Warlord Carrion of the Black Claw was making his move sooner than expected. She turned to run when a hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her back into the shadows.

"You shouldn't be out here," a voice hissed in her ear. It was familiar. Gentle, yet sharp like steel in velvet. "They'll kill you if they see your face."

It was Thorne, the palace assassin. And her secret protector.

"They're not here for me," she whispered.

His dark eyes met hers. "No. They're here for the crown. But they'll take you too... once they know who you really are."

Kaelith's heart pounded.

Because she didn't know who she really was.

But they did.

Far across the sea, in the volcanic ruins of Mount Skareth, a different fire stirred. A beast the size of a cathedral uncoiled from sleep, its scales molten obsidian, its eyes glowing with hate.

Vaelkris had awoken.

> "The twin flames shall rise... one to burn the world, the other to save it."

And the time had come... for the prophecy to choose.

Kaelith followed Thorne through the hidden servant tunnels of Ashenhold Castle, her heart thundering like war drums. Every corner they turned echoed with clanging steel and distant screams. The castle was under siege.

"Where's Lord Malric?" she whispered as they moved deeper underground.

"Gone," Thorne muttered. "He left before dawn-took half the guard with him. He knew they were coming."

"What?" Kaelith stopped in her tracks. "He knew? And left me?"

Thorne paused too, turning slowly. His jaw clenched.

"He's always known who you are, Kaelith. That's why he hid you here. You're the last piece. The girl with fire in her veins. And now... they want you dead."

Kaelith stumbled back, shaking her head. "You're not making sense. I'm no one-just a servant girl with strange dreams."

Thorne reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, curved dagger. The hilt was carved from dragonbone. The blade shimmered with runes that pulsed red.

"Your mother left this for you."

Kaelith stared. Her hands trembled as she took the blade. The moment her fingers touched the hilt, something clicked inside her. A warmth bloomed beneath her skin. Power. Fire.

Images flashed in her mind.

A throne wreathed in flame.

A woman with silver eyes and a crown of obsidian.

A dragon circling the sun.

She gasped, dropping the dagger. Her knees buckled, but Thorne caught her.

"You saw her, didn't you?" he said softly. "The Dragon Queen. Your mother."

"I-how is this possible?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "I thought... she died."

"She did," he said. "But her blood didn't. You are the last Veyr."

Suddenly, the stone wall beside them exploded inward.

A black-armored soldier stepped through the dust, horned helm glinting in the torchlight. His eyes were shadowed, his blade already raised.

Thorne shoved Kaelith behind him and drew his twin daggers. "Run."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"Kaelith, GO!"

She hesitated-but the soldier lunged.

Thorne met him in a flurry of steel, sparks flying as blades clashed. Kaelith turned and sprinted into the dark tunnel, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand, the sound of battle ringing behind her.

She didn't stop running-not until she reached the ancient stairwell beneath the castle's crypts. Her lungs burned, her legs shook, but something deeper drove her forward.

The prophecy.

She didn't fully understand it yet, but it pulsed in her veins like a second heartbeat.

"One to burn the world... one to save it."

She wasn't sure which one she was.

Yet.

Above ground, the sky darkened as Carrion's forces poured through the outer gates. Screams filled the air. Fire spread through the lower city. Ashenhold was falling.

And from the tallest tower of the castle, a cloaked figure watched.

She was draped in raven-black silk, her eyes like frostbite, her mouth curled in cruel delight.

"Bring me the girl," she said to the shadows behind her. "The flame must not be allowed to rise."

Behind her, a second figure emerged-a boy with silver hair and eyes the color of dying stars. He was no older than Kaelith, but colder. Sharper.

He said nothing, but nodded once before vanishing into the smoke.

Kaelith descended deeper into the cold, ancient passage beneath Ashenhold Castle. The flames of the torches flickered as if the very air trembled in fear. The walls here were carved with forgotten runes, cracked and faded by time-yet they seemed to glow faintly as she passed, responding to her presence.

She clutched the dragonbone dagger tightly, still warm in her grip.

I'm the last Veyr... the heir to a bloodline that was hunted to extinction.

And now, they were hunting her.

Behind her, the echoes of steel rang louder. Shouts. Boots. Someone was coming.

Suddenly, the tunnel opened into a massive stone chamber.

A crypt.

Pillars rose like petrified trees, and sarcophagi lined the circular walls, each engraved with a dragon's crest. In the center, an obsidian pedestal pulsed with crimson light-atop it sat a sphere of flame encased in crystal.

Kaelith stepped toward it, breathless. The heat was unlike anything she'd felt before-it didn't burn, it welcomed.

As if it knew her.

As if it had waited centuries for this moment.

She reached out.

But before her fingers could touch it-

> "Step away from the Flamecore," a voice said behind her.

She froze.

The silver-haired boy stood in the archway. His cloak rippled like mist, and his eyes-so pale they seemed almost white-locked onto hers. There was no hatred in his gaze, only stillness.

Cold. Measured.

"I don't want to fight you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"But I was born to end you," he replied, stepping closer. "Your flame is dangerous."

Kaelith's grip tightened around the dagger.

"I don't even know what I am yet."

The boy's expression shifted-almost sadness? But only for a second.

"Then let me end you before you find out."

He raised his hand, summoning a spear of shadow from thin air.

Kaelith backed up-until her hand accidentally brushed the crystal orb.

In that instant, everything changed.

The flame surged-roaring like a living beast. The crystal shattered. A wave of fire exploded outward, swallowing the chamber in blinding gold light.

Kaelith screamed as the power rushed into her-ancient, wild, unstoppable.

The boy was thrown back against the wall, stunned.

When the light faded, Kaelith stood at the center of the ruins, eyes blazing like embers. Her hair whipped around her face, carried by winds that came from nowhere.

But her skin-it glowed with fire-veins, and the dagger floated, spinning in the air beside her.

The boy staggered to his feet.

"What... what are you?"

Kaelith looked at her hands, at the flames dancing across her skin.

"I don't know," she whispered.

And then the ground cracked beneath her.

A massive roar echoed from deep below-a sound so ancient and furious, it shook the stones.

The tomb split open.

Something was rising from the depths.

Not a ghost. Not a soldier.

> A dragon.

Bound in chains of blackened steel. Eyes blazing. Wings unfurling after centuries of sleep.

It looked straight at Kaelith.

> "My Queen," it growled.

Kaelith gasped.

The silver-haired boy's face went pale.

And then everything exploded into chaos.