CHAPTER 90: A DRACONIAN.

The journey to Drakemire spanned two and a half days through winding mountain roads that clung to sheer cliffs like threads of fate. Snow dusted the dark granite paths, while clouds drifted low enough to brush the peaks, cloaking the world in a quiet veil. The wind howled like a restless beast, tugging at cloaks and whispering forgotten names into the travelers’ ears.

Ethan rode with his cloak drawn tight against the mountain chill, his breath visible in the air. Beside him, the rest of his team followed in relative silence, their horses’ hooves crunching against stone and frost.

He stole a glance upward, marveling at how the mountains seemed to breathe mist and shadow. The peaks loomed like slumbering titans, their faces streaked with veins of glimmering ore, catching the weak sunlight like scars of silver.

On the third day, just past noon, they reached the final ridge—and the world changed.

The trail opened suddenly onto a ledge overlooking a massive valley. Steam hissed from natural vents in the cliffs, trailing into the heavens in shimmering spirals. There, tucked within the heart of the mountains, Drakemire revealed itself.

Ethan reined in his horse, the breath in his lungs forgotten. "Holy hells..."

The city sprawled across the valley floor like a jewel resting in a dragon’s hoard. Its buildings were carved from pale stone, rooftops tiled in crimson and gold. Elegant terraces ran along the mountain walls, blooming with flame-colored flowers and climbing ivy that clung stubbornly to the rock despite the altitude.

Massive aqueducts carried hot spring water down from the peaks, steaming gently in the cold air. Winding bridges of enchanted stone spanned across cliffs and crags, connecting towers and citadels that looked carved from the mountains themselves.

Above it all, at the highest terrace, a spire crowned in obsidian and sapphire pierced the clouds. It glowed faintly, pulsing like a heart—draconic magic humming in its core.

"It’s... beautiful," Daniel murmured, a rare reverence softening his voice.

Reyna let out a long whistle. "Was expectin’ dark tunnels and some grumpy dwarves. But this? Damn."

Liora’s red eyes sparkled as she leaned forward, her tone hushed. "This city was born of dragonfire. The heat keeps the valley warm. The stone nourishes the roots. Even death stays its hand here... because dragons do not like funerals."

Ethan turned to her with a grin. "Is that a poetic vampire thing, or an actual fact?"

"Both," Liora replied, smiling faintly.

Selene rode ahead, her cloak catching the wind. "Keep your awe. You’ll need it when we step into the political furnace waiting below."

Their group continued the descent, following the winding road into the valley. As they drew closer, the signs of life grew louder—vendors calling out in unfamiliar dialects, the clang of hammers against enchanted steel, and laughter echoing off stone balconies.

Children with wind-chapped cheeks darted through the crowd, chasing wooden dragons with carved wings. Knights in gleaming armor moved in patrol formations, their cloaks bearing the insignia of both the Empire and the dragon-marked Drakemire Guard.

The air smelled of forge smoke, wild herbs, and warm mineral steam.

By the time they reached the outer gates—towering slabs of obsidian engraved with twisting dragons—they were greeted by two sentries in drake-scale armor.

"State your business," one barked, halberd raised.

Selene rode forward and drew a polished crest from her cloak. The sigil of crossed swords beneath a sunburst gleamed in the light.

"Swordmaster Selene of the Empire’s Fourth Division. These are my retinue."

The guards straightened instantly. "Swordmaster! Forgive our delay. Please—welcome to Drakemire."

As the gates groaned open, Ethan turned to Daniel with a smirk. "Didn’t even need a bribe this time."

Daniel scowled. "I liked it better when I could get in by smiling at someone’s sister."

Reyna barked a laugh. "Your smile’s got all the charm of a cracked boot, you bastard."

Inside, the city was even more alive. Stalls sold enchanted scale armor, dragonbone trinkets, even bottled spring steam for therapeutic magic. Statues of drakes and winged serpents loomed from rooftops, their eyes made of polished crystal.

Dragons weren’t just myth here—they were presence. Memory. Dominion.

The knight headquarters was built into the cliffside, its terraces stacked like the spine of a sleeping wyrm. Stone runes glowed faintly along the fortress walls, and a waterfall trickled down into a steaming basin surrounded by resting wyverns.

Once inside, they were led to their rooms—sturdy quarters with thick furs, rune-etched lamps, and wide windows overlooking the city below.

Ethan dropped his pack and collapsed into the chair beside the bed. His shoulders ached, but his mind buzzed with anticipation.

Daniel groaned as he stretched. "I’m never riding again. Mark my words, I’ll marry a teleportation mage if I have to."

Reyna kicked his boot. "You? Married? I’ll believe that when I see a wyvern juggle three dwarves."

Liora sighed and inspected her reflection in a polished bronze plate. "My hair’s in ruins. This is a crime against nobility."

Ethan chuckled. "Drakemire’s seen worse crimes, I’m sure."

Soon after, Selene summoned them to a meeting hall—circular, with a great map of the region etched directly into the table. Corvin stood at its center, fingers tracing the mountain ridges.

"We’re here," he said, tapping the valley. "Drakemire’s central hold."

He pointed farther east. "Grandmaster Vandelion’s group should have arrived yesterday. But we’ve heard nothing."

Selene’s expression darkened. "No word? Not even a pigeon?"

"Nothing," Corvin said. "Either they’re delayed... or something’s happened."

Ethan leaned in, brow furrowed. Vandelion... are you in danger? Or are you just hiding from paperwork again?

Kellan laughed lightly. "The Grandmaster doesn’t vanish without cause. Maybe he pissed off a dragon."

Liora’s gaze narrowed. "If a dragon decided someone was too close to its hoard... it wouldn’t ask nicely."

Before anyone could respond, the walls shook.

A thunderous boom rang through the hall, rattling lanterns and sending dust tumbling from the ceiling.

"What the hell—?" Reyna shot to her feet, blade half-drawn.

Another shockwave followed—closer, louder. The table jumped. Somewhere in the city, people screamed.

Selene was already sprinting. "Outside, now!"

Ethan followed, heart racing. They burst from the building into blinding sunlight and chaos.

Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and dark. A section of the far market district had erupted in flame—stone shattered, people fleeing.

Then came the roar.

A piercing shriek split the air. Ethan’s ears rang. The sound wasn’t natural—it was primordial.

He looked up—and froze.

A massive shape hovered above the city. Wings wider than city blocks beat the air into storms. Its scales shimmered like molten bronze. Golden eyes burned with fierce intelligence—and fury.

A dragon.

Real. Breathing. Alive.

Its body rippled with coiled muscle, each movement elegant and deadly. Claws extended like blades of forged silver.