the hour of shadows

Pain was a burning blade that pierced every fiber of Lyra. The mark on her chest pulsed in rhythm with Vorath's voice, the man with violet eyes, as if her heart now beat in harmony with his. She tried to rise, but her limbs refused to obey, her muscles knotted by an invisible force.

"Do not resist, Lyra Valden," murmured Vorath, descending from the sky with sinister grace. His undead dragons circled above him, their torn wings beating the air with a sound of crumpled bone. "You are far more valuable alive… at least for now."

Vaelrath stood before Lyra, his black scales bristling, a low growl escaping his throat. "You were dead... I saw you die!"

Vorath laughed, a sound that froze Lyra's blood. "Death is such a... limited concept for those who can see beyond." He raised a gloved metal hand, and the skeletal dragons dove toward the ground, their gaping jaws spewing violet flames. "Sleep again, Vaelrath. This time, I will leave no trace of you."

Lyra managed to move, rolling to the side to avoid a burst of fire that turned the ground where she'd been into ash. The villagers, still stunned by the previous attack, screamed and ran toward the forest. The charred body of the young man still lay there, his empty eyes staring at the sky. It's my fault, she thought, nausea twisting her stomach.

— Lyra! Run! roared Vaelrath, leaping to intercept a skeletal dragon charging toward her. His claws shredded the creature's skull, but two more took its place, their jaws snapping mere inches from her neck.

She wanted to obey, but her legs trembled. The mark on her chest radiated an evil heat, drawing Vorath to her like a magnet. The man with violet eyes landed in front of her, his ebony armor absorbing the light around him.

— Why me? she stammered, stepping back. What do you want?

Vorath tilted his head, a cruel smile stretching his lips. "You carry the essence of the last dragon. An essence that I created." He extended a hand toward her, and the mark responded with such sharp pain that Lyra collapsed. "Vaelrath lied to you, Lyra. This pact... I crafted it, millennia ago. Dragons were my soldiers. My slaves."

Images surged in Lyra's mind—visions different from those of Vaelrath. She saw dragons chained by violet runes, forced to serve a fallen empire. She saw Vorath, once human, wielding their power to turn cities to dust. And she saw Vaelrath, younger, prouder, breaking his chains at the cost of a massacre.

— No... she whispered, refusing to believe it. Vaelrath wouldn't…

"Of course he did," Vorath interrupted. "He destroyed his own people to free himself. And now, he uses you to finish the work." He crouched before her, his violet eyes boring into hers. "But you... you can change everything. Give me what belongs to me, and I will free you from this curse."

Lyra felt her heart race. To be free… to regain her humanity... The temptation was a sweet, bitter poison. She lifted her gaze to Vaelrath, still fighting the undead dragons, his body covered in smoking wounds. The dragon looked at her, and in his golden eyes, she saw something new: fear.

"Don't listen to him, Lyra!" he roared, throwing a dragon against a wall. "He's lying!"

— Is he really? she retorted, her voice trembling. Tell me the truth, Vaelrath. Why me?

The dragon hesitated for a split second, but that was enough for Vorath. "Because you are a Valden," he sneered. "A descendant of the mages who once bound me. Vaelrath chose you to punish you... or to punish himself."

Lyra felt the ground give way beneath her. A Valden. The name, given to her by her dying mother, was a curse. She stood abruptly, her golden scales clinking, and pointed her sword at Vorath.

— No matter what I am, I will never be your weapon.

Vorath smiled, as if he had expected this reaction. "Then suffer."

He snapped his fingers, and the mark on Lyra's chest exploded. She screamed, collapsing to her knees as violet veins spread from the mark, consuming her skin like poison. She saw her hands deform, her fingers elongate into claws, her shoulders curve under the weight of spectral wings. No, no, no…

— LYRA!

Vaelrath charged toward her, ignoring the dragons clawing at him. He placed his body between her and Vorath, his breath setting the ground alight to create a wall of flames. "Focus!" he growled, his voice broken with pain. "Push him back! You are stronger than him!"

— I... I can't... she sobbed, tears burning her now-scaly cheeks.

"Yes, you can!" he insisted, placing a claw on her shoulder. A flood of memories suddenly crashed into Lyra's mind—not those of Vorath, but of Vaelrath. She saw him, a young dragon, refusing to serve the empire. She saw him destroy the control runes, freeing his kin at the cost of his own damnation. And she saw him, centuries later, choose her, not out of vengeance, but out of hope.

— You... you believed in me? she whispered, wavering.

"I still do," he replied, his golden eyes gleaming with fragile light.

Lyra closed her eyes, feeling the mark struggle to consume her. I'm not a weapon. I'm not a Valden. I am... me. She took a deep breath, and for the first time, embraced the power rather than fear it. The golden flames surrounding her turned violet, then black, before exploding into a burst of pure light.

Vorath screamed, recoiling from the onslaught. "Impossible! You can't control..."

— Flee, she interrupted, her voice resonating like a dragon's echo.

The breath she released was neither fire nor ice, but a storm of pure energy. The skeletal dragons disintegrated, turning to dust. Vorath raised his arms to protect himself, his armor cracking under the force of the attack.

"This isn't over, Lyra Valden!" he roared before disappearing in a whirlwind of shadows, taking the remains of his horde with him.

Silence fell, heavy and menacing. Lyra collapsed, her spectral wings dissolving, her claws returning to human fingers. But the mark on her chest remained, darker, more alive than ever.

Vaelrath collapsed beside her, his flank bleeding heavily. "You... you did it," he murmured, a glint of pride in his voice.

— At what cost? she asked, looking at the villagers who barely dared to leave the forest. Their gazes were filled with terror... and hatred.

"They fear you," Vaelrath said, following her gaze. "But fear can be overcome."

— Not this fear, she replied, seeing a man pick up a stone. Not after what I've done.

The stone flew, striking Lyra on the shoulder. She didn't even feel the pain. "Monster!" a woman shouted. "Leave! Or we'll burn you!"

Vaelrath growled, struggling to rise, but Lyra placed a hand on his flank. — No. They're right.

She rose, unsteady, and walked toward the forest, refusing to look at the villagers' tears. The mark on her chest pulsed, reminding her that Vorath was not defeated. He would return. And she would be ready.

"Where are you going?" Vaelrath asked, following her gaze.

— To seek answers, she replied. Vorath said I was a Valden. I need to know what that means. And you... You're going to tell me everything you know. No more secrets.

The dragon bowed his head, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Alright. But know that some truths are worse than lies."

Lyra smiled bitterly. — After today, I doubt anything can surprise me.

As they walked away, a shadow watched them from the ruins of the fortress. A shadow with violet eyes. "Well played, Lyra Valden," murmured Vorath, brushing the crack in his armor. "But next time... I'll take everything."