A shiver, ancient and profound, snaked through Arin. It was the whisper of something older than time, a cold dread that squeezed her chest tighter than any gauntlet. Vaelrix stirred. The pit below, a swirling abyss, pulsed with an unseen, immense form. She pressed against Caldan, her body trembling, her eyes wide with a terror she hadn't known existed.
He remembers my mother. The dragon's judgment had once stolen her breath. But this… this was different. This was a true awakening, a roar that promised only ruin.
A raw scream tore through the cavern. One of the flame-priests, a silver band across his eyes, stumbled. Blood erupted from beneath the band. He choked, a desperate sound, then collapsed. Arin's breath caught. What was that?
The growl deepened, a furious rumble. The iron chains spanning the pit began to vibrate, a chilling hum. Below, a vast, dark shape stirred. Vaelrix.
Then, Caldan gasped. A sound ripped from his throat, sharp and agonizing. He clutched his head, his face twisting, a silent scream etched into his features. His grip on her arm, a lifeline moments before, now spasmed, crushing her.
"Prince Caldan!" Arin cried, her voice thin, swallowed by the rising din. She reached for him, her hand instinctively flying to his arm. He swayed, his powerful frame suddenly fragile. What is happening? His eyes, usually pools of molten gold, were squeezed shut, etched with a pain that made her own gut clench.
The guards, grim-faced moments before, rushed forward. "Your Highness!" one of them shouted, his voice laced with concern. "Are you—"
"Move!" Caldan snarled, his voice guttural, raw, still clutching his head. "Get back! All of you, now!" His eyes, flickering open for a split second, were clouded, but a desperate urgency blazed within them.
The guards hesitated, confusion clouding their faces. "Prince, what—"
"You fools, move!" he roared, a fresh wave of pain seizing him, making his body convulse. "He'll burn you! Get back, you damned idiots!"
Arin's gaze darted to the pit. A searing heat, invisible but potent, began to rise. Burn them? But… he's chained. A horrifying understanding began to bloom in her mind. Caldan could feel it. The dragon's intent, even if he couldn't command it.
It was too late.
A torrent of unseen fire erupted from the darkness below, a silent, scorching wave that slammed into the guards. They didn't even scream. One moment, they were there, confused, hesitating. The next, nothing but smoking ash and a faint smell of burnt flesh.
Arin gasped, recoiling, her hand flying to her mouth. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. By the gods. Her eyes searched the darkness, but she saw nothing. Only the lingering, acrid smoke.
The flame-priests, their red robes stark against the ash-stained floor, began to chant, their voices low and urgent. They raised their hands, glowing with a faint, pulsing light. They were trying to command Vaelrix.
Caldan, still writhing, tried to pull her away. "Arin! Get back!" His voice was a ragged whisper, but his grip was surprisingly strong. He pushed her, urging her away from the edge of the pit.
But the growl from below deepened, became a defiant roar. The chains shrieked, groaning under immense pressure. Vaelrix was testing them, straining against the ancient magic. He wanted free. He wanted to break his bonds.
The priests' chanting grew louder, more frantic. Their faces twisted in exertion, veins bulging in their necks. Blood began to trickle from their noses, stark red against their pale skin. Seven of them. Seven powerful flame-priests, bleeding, struggling to contain a single beast.
Arin stared, a cold wave washing over her. She had seen power before, cunning, strength. But this… this was elemental. Unstoppable. How powerful is this creature? The sheer force from the pit was suffocating.
Slowly, agonizingly, the chains quieted. The roaring lessened, dwindling to a low, frustrated rumble. The pulsating light from the priests faded, their bodies slumping in exhaustion. Vaelrix was put down. He was sleeping again.
The air in the cavern felt heavy, thick with the scent of fear and smoke. The surviving priests stumbled towards Caldan, their faces etched with exhaustion and a new, chilling fear.
"Your Highness," one rasped, wiping blood from his lip. "You must… you must stay away from the Crucible Pits. It seems your presence… it triggers Vaelrix. His reaction, it was… unheard of."
Another priest, his voice trembling, added, "We have never seen such a furious awakening. And what happened to Brother Kael… his soul was taken. The judgment was too strong."
Caldan, still pale, pushed himself upright, his jaw clenched. "Kael… he didn't survive?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but Arin saw the flicker in his eyes, the tightening of his hands. A life, taken because of him.
"The last time I came," Caldan murmured, his gaze falling to the pit, a haunted look in his eyes, "a month ago… he didn't react like this. He didn't even wake." His voice was laced with a confusion that was almost as potent as his pain.
He turned abruptly, his gaze sweeping over the charred remains of the guards, then landing on Arin. He took her arm, pulling her with him without a word. The raw fury, the agonizing pain, the sudden loss – it was all etched in his eyes. He didn't bother to address the priests further. He had seen enough.
They moved quickly through the winding passages of the Crucible Pits, the air growing lighter, less acrid, with every step. Arin kept pace, her mind reeling. The dragon. The fire. The dead guards. It was a dark tale, woven with threads of power and death.
Caldan pushed open a heavy, familiar door, and they were back in his bedchambers. The same room where she had first been brought, bathed, and dressed in silks. Where he had first given her the dagger and commanded her to stage her own murder. The irony was not lost on her. This room, which once felt like a gilded cage, now felt like a sanctuary after the horrors of the pit.
Maeve, her face a mask of worry, rushed towards them. "Your Highness! I heard… the rumbling from the pits. Are you… are you unharmed?" Her eyes darted to Arin, then back to Caldan, searching for answers.
Caldan merely shook his head, a dismissive gesture. "Nothing happened, Maeve. A small tremor. Nothing to trouble yourself with." His voice was flat, devoid of its usual arrogant edge.
Arin frowned. Why wouldn't he tell her? Maeve, despite her grumbling and scolding, clearly cared. Was it because she was just a maid? A commoner? The thought rankled.
"Nothing?" Arin scoffed, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "Nothing but seven guards burned to ash and a priest losing his soul? Just a 'small tremor,' Prince?" She met Maeve's widened eyes, a challenge in her own.
Caldan shot her a warning glare, a silent command for her to hold her tongue. But Arin didn't care. The dismissiveness grated on her, made her stomach churn.
Maeve, however, didn't seem to grasp Arin's words fully, her attention still fixed on Caldan. "But… Your Highness, there's another matter. A pressing one. Your grandmother… she's here. And she demands your presence at royal breakfast, immediately."
A low curse escaped Caldan's lips, harsh and venomous. "The Queen Dowager?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Damn it all."
Arin watched him, curiosity piqued. She'd heard whispers of the Queen Dowager, a formidable woman rarely seen, feared even by the King. If her presence at breakfast was such a dire omen, this promised to be interesting.
"Why is that bad news?" Arin asked, her voice low, a hint of genuine curiosity woven into her defiance.
Caldan turned to her, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and something akin to dread. "She rarely joins us. Only when she wishes to congratulate or… punish. And given your recent activities, little viper, I have a strong suspicion which it will be."
Arin's jaw tightened. Roen. Of course. She had forgotten all about him, or rather, dismissed him. She had stabbed him in the inner thigh, a swift, brutal cut that had left him screaming. He wouldn't let that go. Not a prince, wounded by a commoner.
"So be it," Arin said, a shrug of indifference that she didn't quite feel. Her stomach fluttered, a tiny bird caught in her throat. Fear? No. Just a healthy respect for the unknown. "I won't apologize for stopping his brother from abusing a servant girl. She said no. That should have been enough."
Caldan's eyes narrowed, a flash of something unreadable in their depths. "Apologies won't save you, Arin. My grandmother… she executes those who defy the royal bloodline. For an act of 'rebellion against a commoner,' as she would see it, she'd have your head on a spike before the midday meal."