Chapter 106 Seraphine
Lucian’s eyes snapped to mine. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” I replied, voice shaking now. “It’s just forbidden.”
Dante’s fire spiked—just a flicker—but I felt it immediately.
“What would that have meant?” he asked.
I closed my eyes.
“It would have allowed kings to forcibly claim dragonborn,” I said. “Not just mates. Not just consorts. Any awakened or awakening dragonborn female. No choice. No rejection. The bond would override will.”
Lucian looked physically ill. “That would—”
“—turn us into resources,” I finished. “Breeding stock. Power conduits. Tools.”
Amara’s hand flew to her mouth. “That’s why—” She stopped, swallowing. “That’s why he didn’t care if they survived the process.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Because under that law, survival wouldn’t be the point. Obedience would.”
Dante stood abruptly, pacing two steps away before stopping himself like he’d hit an invisible wall.
“And the others?” he demanded. “Kael? Valin?”
“Thane needed votes,” I said. “Three of five. Death. Storm. Shadow.” I opened my eyes and looked straight at Lucian. “Fire and water were the obstacles.”
Lucian ran a hand through his hair, breathing hard. “So the penthouse. The witch’s heart. Turning us against each other.”
“Yes. If you and Dante had turned on each other, if you’d broken trust, he could’ve framed you both as unstable. Unfit. Dangerous.”
Dante let out a humorless laugh. “And I walked right into it.”
“No,” I said quickly. “You resisted it. All of you did. That’s why he had to escalate.”
Lucian turned away, already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling my father.”
Amara blinked. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Lucian snapped. “If Thane was attempting blood-law manipulation, the old guard needs to know. He needs to be here before the council convenes again.”
He paused, glancing at me. “Can you confirm exactly what he was altering?”
I nodded. “Not just consent. He was trying to amend the Law of Balance.”
Dante froze.
Lucian’s hand stilled over his phone.
“That law,” Lucian said slowly, “is what prevents one aspect from dominating the others.”
“Yes,” I said. “If he’d succeeded, death wouldn’t just be an aspect. It would be the foundation.”
Amara’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “Everything would eventually decay into him.”
I felt tears sting my eyes—not from pain this time, but fury.
“He called it preservation,” I said bitterly. “He said extinction justified anything. That dragonkind needed to adapt or die.”
“And adaptation,” Dante said darkly, “meant everyone bending to him.”
“Yes.”
Lucian started dialing, his fingers shaking only slightly. “If he rewrote those laws, it wouldn’t just affect dragonborn. It would ripple outward. Human realms. Magical ecosystems. Storm cycles. Birth rates.”
I nodded. “That’s why my dragon forced the merge. The laws would’ve rewritten before dawn.”
Dante came back to my side, kneeling again despite himself. “And it nearly killed you.”
“It did kill me,” I said softly. “Just… not permanently.”
That earned a sharp inhale from Amara.
Lucian turned away as the call connected. “Father,” he said urgently. “We need you here. Immediately. Yes, now. No, I’m not exaggerating. Thane attempted blood-law alteration—yes, that level. Seraphine stopped it, but the council is unstable.”
He listened, jaw tightening, then nodded. “Yes. I understand. Storm territory, but neutral ground. Bring whoever you trust. We don’t have time.”
He ended the call and turned back to us, eyes blazing.
“He’s coming,” Lucian said. “And he’s furious.”
Good.
Dante brushed his thumb over my knuckles. “You saved us,” he said quietly. “All of us.”
I shook my head weakly. “I slowed the damage. That’s all.”
“It was enough,” Amara said firmly. “And you didn’t do it by becoming what he wanted.”
I exhaled, finally letting myself feel how close the edge had been.
“Next time,” Dante said, voice iron-hard, “he doesn’t get the chance.”
Lucian nodded. “Agreed.”
I swallowed. The room was quiet, everyone waiting, watching me like I might fracture again if they spoke too loudly.
I hesitated, then looked to Lucian. “My dragon wants to know what your father is going to do.”
Lucian blinked. “My father?”
“Yes,” I said. “Specifically… what the old guard will do.”
The words felt strange in my mouth, like something half-remembered.
Lucian’s brows rose slowly. “I’m surprised she doesn’t know what the old guard is.”
Inside me, my dragon snorted.
If the earth did not accept them as something needed, then they will not be known.
The air went still.
I relayed it verbatim, my voice steady even as my pulse picked up. “She says… if the earth didn’t accept them as necessary, then they wouldn’t be known at all.”
Lucian stared at me.
Then, very carefully, he asked, “That’s not how history works. The old guard predates the councils. They enforced balance before kings ruled openly. They’re… foundational.”
My dragon’s presence tightened, like a coiled spine.
If they were not recognized, she replied coolly, then they are not part of dragon history.
I repeated it.
Lucian’s shock was immediate and unguarded. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” I asked, because my dragon hadn’t answered that part.
She went quiet.
Not withdrawn. Just… thinking.
I don’t know, she admitted at last. I don’t know who the old guard is.
A chill slid through me that had nothing to do with temperature.
Lucian’s face drained of color. “That’s… that doesn’t make sense. The High Priestesses always knew them. They worked with them. They answered to them.”
My dragon’s response was sharp and unmistakable.
Then I was not meant to.
Dante shifted beside me, tension rippling through him. “Lucian,” he said slowly, “what exactly is the old guard supposed to be?”
Lucian dragged a hand down his face. “They’re arbiters. Enforcers. The ones who step in when kings fail or laws are broken at a fundamental level. They’re not supposed to be visible, but they exist to prevent exactly this kind of thing.”
I felt my dragon bristle.
If they existed for that purpose, she said, then they failed.
I didn’t soften it when I repeated it.
Lucian closed his eyes briefly. “Or they were removed.”
The word landed heavy.
“Removed how?” Amara asked quietly.
Lucian shook his head. “I don’t know. But if Seraphine’s dragon doesn’t recognize them, that means one of two things.”
I felt her stir inside me again, that vast, coiled presence pressing gently at the back of my ribs.
“Say it,” I murmured. “Out loud.”
Lucian hesitated. Dante’s eyes never left my face.
“Either the Old Guard were erased,” Lucian said finally, “or they were never truly part of dragon history to begin with.”