Page 70 of Song of the Dragon Rider
“I told you to return…” he finally said. “Why didn’t you?”
My heart pounded so hard, I thought it would burst at any moment. “An unexpected obstacle stood in my way,” I murmured, not wanting to admit that Damien had stopped me.
“I see,” he whispered. “Well… don’t let thisobstaclecause the destruction of Lady Arya’s family.”
I gulped. “What do you suggest?”
“Cut all ties, my lady. Your future is riddled with pain and suffering if you continue down this path.”
My stomach dropped.Fuck. “And if I don’t? What will you do?”
The seer shrugged. “I’ll do what I must. For the emperorandfor the future of Elaria.”
“The emperor is a tyrant,” I admitted, knowing damn well that statement could get me killed.
Malachar only smirked. “You are young, my lady. Sometimes there are worse things lurking in the shadows than tyrants.”
Did he mean Damien? I couldn’t imagine Damien being worse than the emperor.
I narrowed my gaze and stepped toward him. Malachar stayed still, unmoving. “You know, don’t you?” I whispered.
He nodded.
I sucked in a breath. “He doesn’t want the throne,” I murmured. “What you fear—”
Malachar shook his head. “You’re wrong, my lady. Sometimes we don’t get what we want. Sometimes what’s destined for us will come true whether we like it or not.”
My eyes widened as I realized what he was saying. Whether Damien wanted the throne or not didn’t matter. If anyone learned about the twin flame mark, he would be forced to take the throne regardless.
Malachar's posture slightly shifted, a deliberate motion that seemed to carry the weight of a significant decision. The air around us thickened with anticipation. Slowly, he reached up with a thin, pale hand, the fingers unnaturally long and ending in tapered, well-kept nails. With a careful movement, he pulled back the hood that had forever concealed his identity from the world.
The face that emerged was a stark revelation that sharply contrasted with the enigmatic presence he had always maintained. His skin was pallid, almost translucent, stretched taut over high cheekbones and a sharp jawline that gave him an ethereal, otherworldly appearance. His hair was a shock of white, flowing back from his forehead in a mane that framed his face with ghostly grace.
But it was his eyes that held me frozen—milky white, with no discernible iris or pupil, blind yet seemingly piercing. They seemed to flicker with an inner light, as if reflecting some unseen flame. Despite their blindness, they conveyed a fathomless depth of knowledge and penetrating insight.
“You see now, my lady.” Malachar's voice was soft, yet it carried an edge that hinted at steel. “The world is not always as it appears. And neither are those who maneuver within it.”
“I choose to believe otherwise.”
Malachar's eyes held a depth of secrets that felt as old as the land itself. “The path of destiny is often wrought with thorns,” hesaid, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And those thorns can pierce even the most guarded heart.”
I frowned, digesting his words as both foreboding and resolve knitted together within me. “What if I choose to stand and fight?” I asked defiantly.
Malachar regarded me with a measured gaze, as if recalculating my worth or perhaps reassessing his initial judgment of me. “Then, my lady,” he began, his voice steady, “you must be prepared for the battles ahead, not just with swords and sorcery, but within the halls of power and the chambers of your own heart.”
He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. “Remember, power seeks power. The emperor's interest in you and this family isn't casual. It’s calculated. Be wary of whom you trust.” With those parting words, he gave a shallow bow and pulled the hood back over his head. When he turned to leave, his cloak swirled around him, blending with the shadows that crept across the courtyard as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Left alone with the seer’s warnings echoing in my mind, I sensed the weight of an impending storm brewing on the horizon of my life in Elaria. The choices I made in the coming days would shape not just my fate, but potentially the future of this realm.
Drawing a deep breath, I squared my shoulders, resolved to face whatever came with my eyes wide open and allies carefully chosen. The game of thrones I had unwittingly become a part of would demand no less.
20
DAMIEN
As night fell and I flew toward Obsidian Reach, the island that was both my sanctuary and my prison, the imposing silhouette of the volcano loomed before me, an unpleasant reminder of the isolation imposed by my exile. The sea churned around the island, turbulent waves crashing against its rocky shores with a relentless energy that mirrored the turmoil inside me.
I ascended the rugged path that led into the volcano, the familiar smell of sulfur and ash greeting me as I entered the cavernous space that served as my home. The interior was vast, with natural tunnels and chambers carved by ancient flows of molten lava. Here, amidst the desolate, barren landscape, I had found a strange peace, but today my mind was far from peaceful.
