Page 2 of The Last Dragon
For only a moment, I let myselffeel—a harsh reminder that I’m still capable of it. But I need to remind myself that I’m a soldier first. I take a deep breath and turn around, looking for the closest exit from this wretched place.
I hate crowds.
My eyes stray to General Tamis Grogol, a few steps from the archway, watching me, with a lieutenant nearby. I glance at the exit again, then back to the general. He slightly lowers his head, signaling me to come to him. My feet shuffle, catching the ground beneath me as I move closer. He waves the lieutenant away, who wears a disapproving grimace, then merges with the crowd. I place myself next to him and observe the crowd.
“In all my years as general, I have not gotten used to this,” he says, his voice stern but his gaze never leaving the assembled people.
I release a soft grunt in approval and get comfortable around his presence, our shoulders aligning as I stretch my back into a proper stance. I scan the increasing crowd, catching glimpses of faces I desperately don’t want to see again. Faces I want to avoid.
“Division Day’s tomorrow,” the general says. “This year, we have forty-two new cadets ready to be placed.”
I cast a quick, sideways look at him. “That’s double the amount from last year.”
He gives a slow, approving nod. “We need all the manpower we can get. This dragon is far more vicious than anything we have ever faced.”
His words hit me hard. I may not have been on the battlefield for three weeks, but it sure feels like I never left it.
He turns slightly toward me. “I’m hoping to see you by my side,” he says. “As Commander.”
“Commander?” I jerk my head toward him, surprise flashing through me before I rein it in. “With all due respect, General, I don’t believe I’m fit to lead. Not with my condition worsening. Infact, I was hoping to avoid this year’s ceremony. I find it rather difficult to hide my symptoms.”
I know he will disapprove, but I’d rather not have people stare at me and make assumptions about whether I’m a Demon or a Divine.
There’s a moment of silence between us. Hundreds of soldiers pass by, some of them reeking with the pungent smell of liquor,making me scrunch my nose. He lets out a sigh as he adjusts his posture.
“I’ve lost commanders in this expedition,” he says, voice curt. “I need someone I can rely on. Someone I can trust. This isn’t over. And I need you by my side,Kazele.”
Kazele.The nickname has followed me since the day I showed up on his doorstep eight years ago—soaked to the bone, starving, desperate. Fourteen, all elbows, sharp angles, and no muscle, demanding he let me join the Corps. He saidKazeliuswas too harsh of a name for a kid who looked like he’d snap in the wind. Kazele has stuck ever since.
“There are others more suited for the title of commander,” I say, forcing my spine straight. “Lieutenant Wain is one of them.”
He nods once, unreadable. “I offered it to her.”
I pause.
“But she declined,” he continues, tone like stone. “Said she belongs where she is.”
My brow creases. Wain is precise. Efficient. A natural leader with the kind of discipline that shapes raw recruits into soldiers. If anyone should’ve stepped up, it’s her. And yet… she didn’t. I wonder why.
“I’m assigning you to a unit again, too,” he says, eyes sharp.
“What? No!” I blurt out. I clamp my jaw shut, biting down on the rest.
For the past year, I’ve done everything I could to stayoutof a unit. I was technically listed under unit nineteen at the startof the year, but it was a name on paper, nothing more. I never deployed with them. Never met half their faces. It was just a formality. Instead, I carried out solo missions at the general’s command, in service of the Corps. But now...nowI hear it in his voice. This time is different. This time, I’ll have people. Real ones. Names. Faces. Lives I’ll be expected to protect. Again. And if he’s truly naming me commander, not only will I have a unit to protect, but during expeditions, I’ll have a whole army weighing down on my shoulders.
“Sir,” I say, clearing my throat, but he doesn’t flinch or move or glance my way. His decision is final.
I dig my nails into my palm, my knuckles still stained pink from cleaning the crossbow. Frustration is lingering in my throat as I clench my jaw. Memories flash in my eyes, screams echo in my head, and the faint taste of iron still laces my tongue. Her blood. His blood.Theirblood.
“I’m putting you in unit seventeen—youroldunit. They know you well, so I’m certain it will be easy for you to adjust,” he says. “You’ll lead the unit.”
My stomach knots. Shit. Of all the things I need right now, this is at the very bottom of the list. They don’t know me. Not really. Not anymore. And what theydoremember—they hate.
My body tenses up as I open my mouth, expecting some logical reasoning to spew out of me, hoping to convince him otherwise. But nothing comes out. Instead, I stand there, thinking about the four years I’ve been branded a soldier—trained to follow orders for the sake of humanity.
“You have skill. Potential. And I hate to see you waste it—”
“I don’t waste it,” I say through my teeth. “I’m perfectly content handling things on my own.Huntingon my own.”
