CHAPTER 74: CHAINS OF THE MAD DRAGON

The great doors groaned open as Kael thundered towards them.

The wards themselves seemed to recognize his fury, parting in silence to let the Dragon Lord pass with his fragile cargo.

The silence that followed him was absolute.

No one dared breathe until the heavy slam of the doors echoed back, final and sharp like a seal being struck.

Only then did the hall exhale.

It was a ragged, terrified sound—dozens of dragons dragging in breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding. The air still trembled, thick with the remnants of power that had pressed into their very bones.

Lady Cirila stirred first. She pressed a hand against her chest, pale features taut, wings trembling like she had nearly collapsed. Her lips moved silently, as though in prayer—or perhaps sheer disbelief.

Lord Karion remained rigid, eyes locked on the door where Kael had vanished. His jaw worked as if grinding down words that had no place here. His scales shimmered faintly, betraying the instinctive ripple of unease that even he could not suppress.

And the dragonlings?

Chaos.

They lay in scattered heaps, trembling, some clutching each other like hatchlings. Seris retched violently to the side, shuddering.

They had all come that close to disappearing, all because Seris could not stop her mouth.

Dragons were selfish creatures by nature, yes. But even dragons knew the weight of history, the scars burned into their kind. How many times had the elders warned of why Kael Dravaryn took his father’s place earlier than expected? How many times had they whispered of the Mad Dragon of Eryndra, as if the very name could scorch them?

And yet here they were. Seris, of all fools, had dared provoke him.

Her guardians descended upon her before she could recover.

One sharp slap cracked across her face, the sound ricocheting through the hall.

"You stupid girl!" her elder hissed, claws trembling. "Do you understand what you have done?! You’ve dragged us all to the brink with your reckless tongue!"

Another slap followed. "We sever ties here and now. You are no child of our clan!"

Gasps rose, even from the dragonlings. To be disowned on the spot was no small thing.

But Seris only lifted her chin, eyes wild, voice shrill. "No! You’re all wrong! It’s me! I am the right one! Who else could it be? I was the only one who returned already a dragonling! From what I know, it must be me. It has to be me!"

Her words fell like oil on flames.

Even Chancellor Malrik, who had always doted on her, looked at her with a face twisted in disdain.

The elder struck her again, harder. "How could you be so delusional?! How could you drag us all down when you are not even close to the right dragon?!" His voice roared through the hall before he spun on Malrik. "Do what you will with her. Our clan washes our claws of this disgrace."

The guardians turned away, their gazes heavy, almost pitying. And then they left her.

Seris stared after them, eyes glistening, shaking with denial.

"No! I am the right dragon! I am! It’s me!" she screamed, even as the last of her clan walked out without looking back.

Her shrieks grew louder, higher, until finally Malrik’s patience cracked. With a flick of his fingers, he sealed her mouth with a binding spell. She struggled against it, muffled wails echoing, but he did not so much as flinch.

Fury simmered in his eyes. Nothing had gone according to plan. Not one thing.

Except... that human fainting.

That, at least, was something.

Utter disgrace.

And yet, Malrik’s mind turned even as Seris flailed uselessly before him. Perhaps things could be easier now. Perhaps this failure was not the end.

It only meant he needed to change his approach.

Meanwhile, a certain Dragon Lord did not remember walking.

One moment, he was in the hall, drowning in fury. The next, he was already striding through the inner corridors, Riley clutched to his chest. The world blurred around him, walls bending, bowing, as though even the citadel itself feared to block his way.

Every few steps, Kael glanced down.

Riley’s head rested against his shoulder, his face pale but far too peaceful.

Tsk.

He should have just destroyed everyone. His parents would have survived; they had the natural stubbornness to withstand attacks from their own bloodline.

But this human, this fragile aide who could barely defend himself on most days, had chosen today of all days to stand in front of him.

If Kael had taken just one more step forward in his unconscious assault, if Riley hadn’t pleaded, then it would all have ended. Neat. Final.

And yet he listened.

He, who had never once been pulled from the abyss, had listened to a desperate plea.

The first he had ever heard in such a raw state. A plea sharper than any blade, cutting through madness, dragging him back when nothing else could.

It must be that flawed blood sigil. What else could it be?

By the time he reached his chambers, the tension in his body threatened to snap his frame apart. Frustration tangled with something darker as he pushed open the doors.

He laid Riley carefully on the broad bed, tucking him into the silken covers as if the aide were made of glass. Riley stirred faintly, lips parting to mutter something incoherent before slipping back under.

Kael sat at the edge of the bed, golden eyes dimmed. He brushed a hand across Riley’s forehead. Cool skin. Too cool.

This human really had a death wish.

Kael had maximized the permissions on the sigil as soon as the commotion started. Riley should have been shielded, kept safe inside the layers of Kael’s protection. And yet here he was, pale-faced, with tear stains streaking his cheeks.

Tears.

What in the hell was he crying about? Was it too hot in the hall? Too noisy? Did his legs not meet his ridiculous human standards?

Apparently, he hadn’t liked it. He’d have to tell him later. Make sure he never cried again.

A sharp hiss slipped past Kael’s throat. The air in the chamber rippled with the weight of his suppressed power.

Because what if he couldn’t control it next time?

He forced himself to breathe, lowering his hand to rest lightly on Riley’s chest, fingers spread as if to hold the man’s heartbeat in place.

Steady thumps answered him. A rhythm he counted, again and again, like an anchor tethering him back to reality.

For a long while, there was only silence.

And for a long while, Riley wasn’t sure when he’d be allowed to wake—when Kael’s hand was pressing right there, heavy on his heart as if controlling his possible demise.

Surely it was his turn to die now, wasn’t it?