Lucien had expected preparations for the journey west to take several days.
House Arkanis had other ideas.
By sunrise, the estate resembled a military encampment. Servants rushed through the courtyards carrying travel packs, weapons, medical supplies, and enough preserved food to feed a small army. Stable hands prepared horses beneath the watchful eyes of armed guards, while mages moved from wagon to wagon, carving protective runes into the wood.
It was excessive.
Lucien understood why.
Five dragons still waited beyond the estate walls.
Their presence had transformed every ordinary task into a carefully controlled panic. Horses refused to approach the western gate. Birds had abandoned the surrounding forest. Even the wind seemed reluctant to move beneath the shadows of those enormous wings.
The Dragon King remained closest to the manor.
He had not moved since the night before.
His golden eye followed Lucien wherever he went.
It was becoming irritating.
“You’re staring,” Lucien said as he crossed the central courtyard.
The Dragon King’s voice rolled through his mind.
“I waited twelve thousand years.”
“That does not justify staring.”
“It justifies considerably more.”
Lucien decided not to ask what that meant.
The Last Witness, seated within the Infinite Mindscape, laughed quietly.
“You used to say the same thing.”
“I’m beginning to understand why my previous selves abandoned everyone.”
“No, you aren’t.”
The answer came too quickly.
Lucien paused beside a waiting carriage.
“What does that mean?”
The old man took a slow sip of tea.
“Nothing.”
“Master.”
“Focus on your journey.”
“You are avoiding the question.”
“Very successfully.”
Lucien narrowed his eyes, though the gesture meant little when directed at someone only he could see.
The journey had already created a surprising number of disagreements.
Cassian wanted twenty guards.
The old man in blue—who had finally introduced himself as Orion Valeris—claimed guards would only slow them down.
Aiden wanted to bring enough weapons to outfit a regiment.
Seraphina had packed a single small bag.
Lucien had packed nothing.
When questioned, he had pointed out that everyone around him appeared far more invested in his survival than he was.
Cassian had not appreciated the observation.
Orion had.
“You truly are related to me,” the old man had said proudly.
That statement had nearly started another argument.
Lucien entered the eastern courtyard and found the others already waiting.
Aiden stood near a black horse, adjusting the straps of his sword belt for the fifth time. He wore light armor beneath a dark traveling cloak, and judging by the number of blades concealed on his person, he expected the mountains to attack him personally.
Seraphina stood a short distance away, dressed in simple silver robes.
She carried no weapon.
That concerned Lucien more than Aiden’s collection.
People who walked into dangerous places without visible weapons were either helpless or exceptionally dangerous.
Seraphina was not helpless.
Orion leaned against the side of the carriage, looking entirely too cheerful.
He had changed clothes at some point during the night. His blue robes had been replaced by a faded traveling coat, though his white hair and star-filled eyes made any attempt at appearing ordinary impossible.
Cassian stood in front of them.
He had the expression of a man who had spent the entire night regretting every decision that had led to this moment.
“You are not taking the carriage,” Orion said.
Cassian stared at him.
“It is reinforced.”
“It is slow.”
“It contains supplies.”
“The dragons can carry supplies.”
The Dragon King released a warning growl.
Orion glanced toward him.
“You heard me.”
The golden dragon’s eye narrowed.
Lucien felt a faint headache forming.
Cassian ignored both of them.
“The carriage stays.”
“It will not survive the mountain road.”
“It was built for war.”
“The mountain road was built by dragons.”
Silence.
Cassian looked toward Lucien.
“Is that true?”
Lucien mentally directed the question toward the Dragon King.
“Did dragons build the western road?”
“No.”
Lucien started to answer.
The Dragon King continued.
“We burned it.”
Lucien reconsidered the wording.
“The road was created by dragons.”
Orion smiled.
“See?”
Cassian looked as though he knew important details were being omitted but lacked the energy to pursue them.
The journey was eventually reduced to four horses, two pack animals, and a small escort that Cassian insisted would accompany them until the edge of Arkanis territory.
Lucien suspected the guards were less concerned with protecting him than ensuring he did not vanish.
A reasonable concern.
The western gate opened shortly after dawn.
Elara stood beside Cassian as Lucien approached.
She held the wooden dragon carving in both hands.
Her expression was unusually serious.
“You promised.”
“I remember.”
“You’ll come back.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Lucien looked down at her.
There were many things he could have said.
Promises were unreliable.
The world was dangerous.
He had no idea what waited in the mountains.
Instead, he knelt.
“I’ll come back.”
Elara studied his face as though trying to determine whether he was lying.
Then she held out the carving.
“Take him.”
Lucien glanced at the small dragon.
“I thought he was yours.”
“He’ll protect you.”
The Dragon King’s offended voice entered his mind.
“I am standing here.”
Lucien accepted the carving.
“Thank you.”
Elara stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
He froze.
The embrace was brief.
Warm.
Terrifying.
By the time Lucien decided how to respond, she had already stepped away.
“Don’t let Aiden do anything stupid,” she said.
Aiden looked offended.
“Why am I the problem?”
“Because Lucien is strange.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It answers mine.”
Orion began laughing.
Aiden muttered something unpleasant under his breath.
Lucien rose and secured the carving inside his coat.
Cassian stepped closer.
For a moment, it appeared he might offer some final piece of advice.
Instead, he placed one hand on Lucien’s shoulder.
“Do not trust Orion.”
Orion’s laughter stopped.
“I’m standing right here.”
Cassian continued as if he had heard nothing.
“Do not trust the dragons completely.”
The Dragon King growled.
“Do not touch anything Seraphina tells you not to touch.”
Seraphina nodded.
“And if the Last Witness tells you something is safe…”
Lucien waited.
Cassian’s expression remained perfectly serious.
“Assume he is lying.”
Within the Mindscape, the old man looked deeply offended.
“I have never met your father before, and yet I already dislike him.”
Lucien almost smiled.
“I’ll remember.”
Cassian’s hand tightened once before falling away.
“Good.”
They departed beneath a sky stained gold.
The dragons did not follow immediately.
Instead, they rose one by one, circling above House Arkanis before turning west. Their wings beat slowly, each movement sending tremors through the air.
The Dragon King remained behind until Lucien passed through the gate.
Then he spread his wings.
The sunlight vanished beneath him.
For several seconds, Lucien could hear nothing except wind and the terrified cries of the horses.
When the dragon finally climbed into the sky, the entire estate seemed smaller.
Fragile.
Temporary.
Lucien looked back only once.
Elara still stood at the gate.
Cassian beside her.
The manor behind them.
A home he had occupied for less than a week.
A place he already felt strangely reluctant to leave.
“Dangerous,” the Last Witness murmured.
Lucien faced forward.
“What is?”
“Having somewhere to return to.”
The words were quiet.
Lucien did not answer.
The road west cut through dense forest before climbing into the foothills. At first, the journey was almost peaceful.
Almost.
The guards rode in silence.
The horses remained nervous beneath the shadows of the dragons.
Orion spent the first hour complaining about the quality of the saddle.
Aiden spent the second hour threatening to push him off the horse.
Seraphina seemed content to observe both.
Lucien rode at the center of the group, listening to the ancient heartbeat within his chest.
With every mile, it grew stronger.
West.
Come west.
By midday, House Arkanis had vanished behind the hills.
The trees changed.
Their bark became pale, almost silver, while their leaves darkened to a deep violet. Strange flowers grew beside the road, opening as Lucien passed and closing again behind him.
Aiden noticed.
“Are they supposed to do that?”
Orion glanced toward the flowers.
“No.”
“Wonderful.”
“They’re greeting him.”
“That is worse.”
Lucien looked down at the nearest bloom.
Its petals had opened toward him.
At the center, a tiny golden flame flickered.
The Dragon Bloodline stirred.
“What are they?”
“Dragon tears,” Seraphina said.
Aiden frowned.
“Flowers?”
“They grow where dragons mourn.”
Lucien looked across the forest.
Thousands of them covered the ground.
A sea of violet petals and golden fire.
The sight was beautiful.
It was also deeply unsettling.
“That seems like a great deal of mourning,” Lucien said.
No one answered.
The Last Witness looked away.
The road continued upward.
Near sunset, they reached a ruined stone arch that marked the border of Arkanis territory. Beyond it, the ground rose sharply toward the distant mountains.
The escort stopped.
Their captain dismounted and bowed.
“We can go no farther.”
Aiden looked toward the road ahead.
“Because of the dragons?”
The captain’s face tightened.
“Because the road beyond the arch does not always lead to the same place.”
Lucien glanced at Orion.
The old man appeared unsurprised.
“What does that mean?”
“The western path changes,” the captain said. “Travelers walk for days and return to the same place. Others disappear. Some come back years older.”
Aiden slowly turned toward Orion.
“You neglected to mention that.”
“It slipped my mind.”
“You have lived for thousands of years. Nothing slips your mind.”
“That is deeply inaccurate.”
Seraphina dismounted.
“The road is awake.”
Lucien felt the words before he understood them.
The stone arch ahead had begun to glow.
Golden fire moved across the ancient carvings, illuminating symbols shaped like wings, claws, and open eyes.
The guards backed away.
The horses stamped nervously.
The Dragon King descended from the clouds.
He did not land.
He hovered above the arch, his wings holding him in the air with impossible stillness.
“The road remembers you,” he said.
Lucien looked toward the glowing path.
“What does it remember?”
“Blood.”
Naturally.
The golden fire spread from the arch onto the road.
It did not burn the grass.
It formed a narrow line stretching toward the mountains.
A path beneath living flame.
Orion dismounted.
“We continue on foot.”
Aiden stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because the horses won’t survive.”
The nearest horse turned around without prompting.
Lucien watched it go.
“Reasonable.”
The guards departed with the animals, leaving the four travelers standing before the arch.
The western mountains seemed considerably closer now.
Too close.
Their peaks pierced the clouds like black teeth, lit from within by veins of golden light.
Lucien stepped toward the arch.
The moment his foot crossed its shadow, the world changed.
The forest disappeared.
The sky darkened.
The ruined arch became whole.
Massive stone pillars rose on either side of the road, carved with images of dragons bowing before a man without a face.
A city stretched across the mountains in the distance.
Broken towers.
Collapsed bridges.
Statues large enough to touch the clouds.
A dead kingdom hidden beside the living world.
Aiden crossed the arch behind him and stopped.
“What happened?”
“The road chose a memory,” Seraphina said.
Lucien looked at the ruined city.
He knew it.
Not the name.
Not the history.
The feeling.
He had been here.
The certainty settled into his bones.
The Last Witness appeared beside him within the Mindscape.
His expression had become grave.
“This path should not be accessible.”
Orion turned slowly, his amusement gone.
“No,” he said. “It should not.”
A low sound echoed across the ruined kingdom.
Not a roar.
A bell.
One deep note rolled through the mountains.
Then another.
The statues along the road moved.
Stone heads turned toward Lucien.
One by one, they lowered themselves to their knees.
Aiden reached for his sword.
Seraphina closed her eyes.
Orion whispered something in a language Lucien did not recognize.
At the end of the golden road, the gates of the ruined city opened.
Darkness waited beyond them.
And from somewhere inside, a voice spoke.
Not the Dragon King.
Not the entity behind the black door.
A woman.
Soft.
Familiar.
“Lucien?”
His breath stopped.
The sound carried across twelve thousand years as though no time had passed at all.
“I knew you would come back.”
Seraphina’s eyes opened.
For the first time since meeting her, Lucien saw pure fear on her face.
“That voice,” she whispered.
Lucien looked toward the gates.
“You know it?”
Seraphina’s hand slowly closed around his wrist.
“Yes.”
The golden fire dimmed.
The ruined city seemed to lean closer.
Seraphina’s voice dropped to almost nothing.
“It belongs to the woman who killed you.”