Chapter 29 Lysandra's Fear

Chapter 29 Lysandra's Fear


The wind howled across the ridge as Arin pushed himself to his feet, still unsteady. Saela and the squad stepped back when they saw Lysandra approaching her boots crunching softly against the frost-bitten stone.

But it wasn’t her presence that frightened them.

It was her expression.

Lysandra never looked shaken.

Never looked uncertain.

Never looked afraid.

But staring at Arin now, she looked all three.

“Commander?” Saela asked quietly. “Should we”

“Leave us,” Lysandra said, her voice low.

The squad didn’t hesitate. They retreated up the trail, giving Arin one last worried glance before disappearing around a bend. When they were gone, the only sounds left were the whistling wind and Arin’s ragged breathing.

Lysandra stopped two paces from him.

Then another step.

Then another.

“Arin,” she murmured, “tell me what you saw.”

He swallowed. “I don’t know if I saw it, or if it forced itself into my head.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Arin wet his lips, the memory still burning behind his eyes.

“A dragon,” he said. “Made of fire and gold. Ancient. Massive. It felt like it filled the entire sky.”

Lysandra shut her eyes for a brief heartbeat.

Not relief.

Recognition.

“And?” she whispered.

“It spoke to me.”

Her eyes snapped open.

“What did it call you?”

Arin hesitated. “Ember. Flame-child. And… something else.”

“What else?”

He exhaled shakily. “It said I carry a spark it once had. A soul-piece it lost.”

Lysandra’s face drained of color.

Arin frowned. “You know something.”

“Arin,” she said slowly, “I need you to answer this exactly. When the dragon spoke… did it speak your name?”

Arin blinked. “My… name?”

“Yes.”

He thought back to the golden void, to the burning eyes. The roar. The voice that seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

And although he wished he could say no

“Yes,” Arin whispered. “It did.”

Lysandra staggered back as though struck.

Arin grabbed her arms. “Lysandra. What is happening to me?”

She shook her head, eyes unfocused. “It’s not what’s happening to you. It’s what already happened.”

“Explain.”

Lysandra took a long, trembling breath, gathering herself. When she spoke, her voice was soft but steady.

“Arin… in all of recorded history, only four dragons ever bound themselves to humans. Four soul-links. Four bonds.”

Arin stiffened.

“And?”

“And all four bonds ended in catastrophe.”

A chill prickled Arin’s spine. “What kind of catastrophe?”

“The kind that reshapes continents,” Lysandra said. “The kind that scars the sky.”

Arin stared. “So you think… what? That I’m bound to a dragon?”

“No.” Her eyes met his, glowing with fear and something else something like awe.

“I think you were bound to one long before you were born.”

The mountain seemed to tilt beneath him.

“How is that even possible?”

“Dragons are not bound by time,” she replied. “Their souls are older than our eras, older than the Founding, older than the sky we stand under. If a dragon marked your spark before it took shape as a human soul then your entire life has been shaped by a bond you never understood.”

Arin’s heart hammered against his ribs.

Marked before birth.

Bound before memory.

It felt impossible.

Ridiculous.

But the golden flame inside him warmed in recognition.

“Lysandra,” he whispered, “what does the dragon want from me?”

Her expression hardened.

“The same thing all dragons want from their lost flames.”

Arin’s breath hitched. “Which is?”

“For you to return to it.”

The words felt like chains tightening around his chest.

A gust of wind gusted through the ridge, carrying cold mist and distant thunder. Lysandra stepped toward him, gripping his shoulders firmly.

“Arin, listen to me. You are not property. You are not a fragment waiting to be reclaimed. Whatever bond exists if it exists you choose what to do with it.”

Arin nodded slowly.

But deep down, he felt the dragon’s presence still lingering like smoke in his lungs, warm and familiar in a way nothing else had ever been.

“Lysandra…” His voice trembled. “What if the choice isn’t mine?”

She cupped his jaw, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Then I will tear apart whatever tries to take you.”

Heat rushed into his chest this time not from the flame.

Lysandra stepped back, regaining her commander’s composure, though her voice remained gentle.

“We need to report what happened to the Council. They must know the Riftstorm was connected to a dragon echo.”

Arin flinched. “If the Council hears that, they’ll isolate me. They’ll dissect whatever power I have.”

“Yes,” she said bluntly. “Which is why we’re not telling them everything.”

Arin blinked. “We’re not?”

“No. The fact that it spoke your name your true name does not leave this ridge.”

Arin exhaled in relief.

Lysandra wasn’t done.

“But Arin there is something we must find out. Something only the dragon can answer.”

“What?”

“Why it marked you.”

Arin stiffened. “You want me to go to it.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said. “I think you will have to.”

His stomach twisted.

“Where is it?”

Lysandra looked toward the horizon. “If it still remembers you, it will call again. When it does, we will follow the pull together.”

“Together?”

She nodded. “I’m not letting you face this alone.”

Arin felt the wind shift.

The air changed subtly, but unmistakably. A faint warmth brushed his cheek. Not the harsh heat of the Riftstorm, but a gentler warmth. Familiar.

Calling.

The dragon was not dormant.

It was watching.

Waiting.

Arin swallowed hard as the sensation deepened like a thread linking his chest to something impossibly far away.

“Lysandra,” he whispered, “it’s already calling.”

She stepped closer. “Then tell me where.”

He pointed east, toward the jagged silhouette of the Stormveil Range its peaks shrouded in perpetual lightning and violent winds.

Lysandra’s brows knit. “Stormveil… of course. Dragons always seek the strongest leylines. But Arin that range is forbidden for a reason.”

“I don’t think it cares.”

She cursed under her breath. “We’ll need a stealth detachment. And rift instruments. And”

The air cracked.

Both of them looked up sharply.

The clouds above the mountain split in a thin, glowing line like a tear in the sky. Gold light seeped through the crack, bathing Arin in its glow.

Lysandra grabbed his hand without hesitation. “We move. Now.”

They sprinted up the trail, but the golden crack widened, pulsing.

The dragon’s voice echoed faintly distant but unmistakable.

Come, ember…

Arin’s knees nearly buckled.

Lysandra tightened her grip. “Hold on. I’m right here.”

He nodded, forcing breath into his lungs.

“Lysandra,” he whispered, “if I lose control”

“You won’t.”

“If I hurt you”

“You won’t.”

“If it tries to take me”

Her voice dropped to a low, deadly promise.

“Then it will learn why humans are feared.”

They reached the upper plateau just as the crack in the sky sealed shut, its glow fading.

But the call remained.

The bond had awakened.

The dragon was waiting.

And Arin knew

He wouldn’t be able to ignore it for long.