Fire meets furry

Elira's knees felt like glass.

"How… how can it talk?" she whispered, trembling behind Elric. "It's a dragon. Dragons don't speak."

"They don't," he muttered, eyes never leaving the beast. "Not unless they're bound by blood magic… or cursed."

Her heart dropped.

"Another cursed thing?! How many more are there in this kingdom?!"

"I told you," he said under his breath, voice sharp, protective. "This place was built on forgotten sins."

Above them, the red-scaled beast reared its head, smoke coiling from its nostrils like serpents. Its golden eyes glowed brighter — and then, in a voice that shook the stone beneath their feet, it roared:

"Return the girl… or your kingdom turns to ash!"

Elira clutched Elric's sleeve. "Why me? What could a dragon possibly want with me?"

But the prince didn't answer. His entire body had gone rigid, his breath slow — controlled.

Like a man preparing to die.

He stepped forward, unsheathing a long black sword from his back, runes glowing along its edges.

"Elric—no!" she gasped.

"You heard it," he said, voice low and calm. "It wants you. And that means it doesn't get to leave."

The dragon let out a shriek, snapping its wings once — and in that single beat, the entire front tower exploded in shards of stone and flame.

Guards flew backward like ragdolls.

"Elira, run!" Elric barked.

"No!"

"Now!"

She ducked behind a crumbled column, watching as Elric charged — a single man beneath a creature carved from nightmares.

The dragon struck first — jaws open, fire swirling.

Elric spun, blade slicing through the flames, parting them just enough to dive beneath the dragon's massive tail. With one leap, he slashed upward — slicing a deep gash across one of its wings.

The beast screamed, shaking the castle walls.

But it didn't back down.

It twisted, tail lashing out — smashing the balcony where Elira had been moments ago. She covered her mouth to stifle a scream as debris showered around her.

"Elric!" she shouted.

He was already in motion again.

Ducking, dodging, eyes burning silver. The beast clawed and snapped, but he danced around it — every strike, every roll, like a man who'd fought death before.

Still — the dragon was ancient. Massive.

And Elric was bleeding.

Fire licked the edges of his cloak, his sword now glowing white-hot from the heat. His movements slowed slightly. His chest heaved.

But he didn't stop.

Another swipe — this time across the beast's jaw.

The dragon roared in fury and blasted the courtyard with fire. Entire patches of marble melted, fountains boiled. Elira flinched, shielding herself behind a statue, heart hammering like a war drum.

She peeked over the edge — and saw Elric, standing there in smoke, sword raised again, blood dripping from his temple.

Still fighting.

Still shielding her.

And the dragon... still hungry.