Chapter 69 The Sorceress' Claim
Serafina
I was dreaming. At least, I thought I was. I was running through a field, my feet brushing against soft grass and flowers that reached my ankles. The air was warm against my skin, and the sky stretched wide and blue above me. Everything felt light. Easy. Untouched. Lio’s laughter echoed behind me, clear and alive in a way that made my chest feel full.
“Serafina, wait!” he called, breathless but smiling.
I turned, laughing as I slowed just enough for him to catch up before darting away again. He looked strong. Healthy. His face held no trace of pain, no sign of the suffering that had haunted him. His eyes were bright, focused only on me.
“You’re cheating,” he said, closing the distance.
“You’re just slow,” I replied, grinning as I moved ahead again.
We ran like that, back and forth, the world around us untouched by anything outside of that moment. There was no Empire. No Warden. No fear pressing down on us. Just us. Just this.
Then it ended.
One second I was laughing, the sound still on my lips.
The next, something tore through my chest.
The pain hit all at once, sharp and deep, ripping the air from my lungs. My body locked, my breath catching as everything around me shattered.
I woke with a gasp, my hand flying to my chest as I rolled off the bed and hit the wooden floor hard. The impact sent a dull jolt through me, but it didn’t matter. The pain inside me drowned out everything else.
“What—” My voice broke as I tried to breathe, my fingers pressing hard against my chest as if I could stop whatever was happening inside me. “What is happening—”
Heat surged from within, climbing fast. It throbbed against my ribs, pushing upward into my throat. It didn’t feel natural. Like something had set it off.
I forced myself onto my hands, my arms shaking under my weight. My vision blurred, dark at the edges as I tried to focus.
“Azerath,” I choked, crawling forward across the floor. “Azerath… I need—”
Another wave hit before I could finish. My body jerked, a broken sound tearing from my throat as I froze in place, unable to move until it passed.
I clenched my teeth, forcing air into my lungs. In. Out. In. Out.
I crawled the rest of the way to the door, grabbing onto the frame and pulling myself up with effort. My legs felt weak, unsteady as I forced myself upright.
I pushed past the door and stumbled into the main room.
My eyes scanned the space quickly, searching for him.
“Azerath?” I called, my voice rough.
Nothing.
Then I saw Blink.
She paced near the front door in her wolf form. Her ears were forward, alert, and a low growl vibrated deep in her chest.
Suddenly, it hit me. Azerath might be in trouble.
I let out a frustrated sigh.
If this was his doing, if this was how he chose to call for me, I would have to make sure he never burned a hole through my chest again.
I had left the sword in the room, but my bag was still slung over my shoulder. If I needed a weapon, I could pull one from it. It would be enough.
I moved to the door, taking steady breaths, reached for the handle and pulled it open.
The cool early morning air struck my face.
And then I saw them.
Azerath stood in the clearing, his back to me, his posture rigid. In front of him stood a woman. She was tall, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, her body wrapped in a deep blue silk gown that clung tightly to her form.
Her arms were around his neck.
I took a step forward and drew in a slow, steady breath. The heat rose inside me again, pressing against my chest and throat, but this time I met it with control. I focused on my breathing, in and out, in and out. My body shook, but I stayed upright, holding it in check.
I moved slightly to the side, needing a clearer view.
Then I saw it. They were kissing.
For a moment, I didn’t react. I just stared, my mind catching up to what I was seeing.
Azerath’s face twisted in disgust, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he let his heat pulse outward, enough to force her back without touching her. Even so, something about her was unsettling. The fire licked at her skin, at the edges of her gown, and yet the burns healed immediately, the flesh knitting together, the fabric repairing itself as if nothing had happened.
Dark magic.
I felt the first warning of another heat surge building inside me. I had to stop it.
I bent down, picked up a rock, and threw it straight at Azerath's back.
It struck him hard enough to make him pull away immediately. He turned, looking at me, while the woman didn’t move. Her hands stayed around his neck, her expression calm, almost satisfied as she turned her head toward me.
The heat in my chest eased. I let out a long, heavy sigh, my shoulders dropping and my hands unclenching. My breathing evened out, and I could finally move without the fire pressing against my ribs.
Blink moved to my side, sitting down beside me. Her eyes shifted between the two of them, alert.
I crossed my arms and stared at them, waiting. I waited for them to speak, to react, to give any explanation.
“Ah… uhm…” Azerath started.
I raised a brow. “That’s all you have to say?”
“This is—” he began, gesturing slightly. “This is an old acquaintance of mine—”
“Acquaintance?” I repeated, unimpressed.
He tried to step toward me but paused when he realized he couldn’t move freely. The woman’s arms were still looped around his neck. He ducked his head, slipping out from under her hold before finally stepping away.
I didn’t miss the way he avoided my eyes for a brief second.
I shifted my attention to her. Up close, she was striking. Smooth skin, sharp features, and stunning black eyes. The neckline of her gown dipped low, revealing the curves of her breasts. A small orb rested against her neck, and a ring with a large black stone glinted on her finger—obsidian, perhaps, like the stone on the Warden’s insignia.
Even with all that, something felt off. She stood stiffly, and I could sense she was hiding something.
And if she knew Azerath from before, then her appearance wasn’t real.
"I'm waiting," I muttered impatiently.
“Let’s begin again,” Azerath said, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is—”
“You must be the dragon binder,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice was smooth, carrying quiet confidence. “I am Elyndra Sable of Arcanis, and I am honored to meet the descendant of Elias.”
She stepped toward me, arms outstretched.
Blink moved instantly. A low snarl tore from her throat as she lunged, teeth snapping inches from Elyndra’s hands.
Elyndra pulled back quickly, surprise flashing across her face. "You should put a muzzle on your dog."
I ignored the comment, placing a hand on Blink’s head. “Good girl.”
Blink sat back down but stayed alert, her eyes fixed on Elyndra.
“Why are you here, Elyndra?” I asked. “What do you want?”
“She wants—” Azerath began.
“Shush,” I cut in, not looking at him. “I didn’t ask you.”
Elyndra smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Long ago,” she said, her gaze shifting briefly to Azerath before returning to me, “Azerath promised me he would return.”
I glanced at him. He said nothing.
“And now that he has,” she continued, “I thought it only right that we continue where we left off.
She was in love with him. She had survived all these centuries just to find him again.
This was a complication I hadn't seen coming.
I nodded slowly, then looked at Azerath again. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
Elyndra’s smile faltered. “Tell me what?”
Azerath straightened, stepping forward, placing himself between us. His posture shifted, his hesitation gone.
“I have already taken a mate,” he said. “She was promised to me long ago. By Elias. She is the reason I returned. She is the one who awakened me.”
Elyndra’s expression changed. The softness in her face disappeared.
Her eyes moved to me. I saw rejection, jealousy and rage in their depths.
“The dragon binder,” she said quietly. “She is your wife?”
“Yes,” Azerath answered without hesitation.
“That is not possible,” she said, her voice tightening. “You promised me.”
“I did not,” Azerath replied, calm but firm. “You chose to hear what you wanted.”
Elyndra’s breathing shifted, her shoulders stiffening as her face twisted into a horrifying scowl. Her lips were pressed tight, her eyebrows creased, her black eyes narrowing. That’s when the illusion broke. Beneath the mask of youth, her true face emerged—the wrinkled, worn skin of old age, the subtle collapse of features she had tried to hide. The reality beneath her beauty was undeniable.
“This is unacceptable,” she hissed. “You are mine." Her gaze locked onto Azerath. “You have always been mine.”
No,” he scoffed, the sound sharp, dismissive, leaving no room for argument. “I had a brief affair with a young sorceress. Nothing more.”
Her gaze snapped to me.
And in that moment, I understood.
I wasn’t just in the way. I was the problem.
Dark energy gathered in her hands, forming into a dense, black orb that pulsed with power.
“I will remove the obstacle,” she said. Her voice was cold now.
Final.
“And then,” she added, her eyes narrowing, “I will take what is mine.”