Chapter 15 The Sixth Dragon
Black dragons mate with black, green with green, blue with blue, and never do they interbreed.
“So where’s mommy silver then?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
There is only one silver dragon and only one king. He’s older than them all and had never taken a mate until he met her.
“How do you know all this?” I slap myself on the forehead, trying to knock these hallucinations out of my skull by force. “How do I know all this?”
The king chose a mate in a black dragon, a beast so dark and strong he thought she was the only one capable of carrying his spawn.
“Silver daddy sounds like a cocky bastard. So important, so impressive… Blegh, he’ll die like the rest of them.”
They mated and brought forth the first cross-breed spawn.
“That’s disgusting. Baby dragons sound freaking gross.”
Having returned to my pile of discarded armor, I kneel. Digging through my stuff, I find my sword and set it on my lap with a sigh.
This dragon was far from disgusting, Anara. It was a creature that had never been seen. A new species of dragon, with unknown capabilities.
“So, where is this precious bundle of joy?” I snap, getting annoyed that the voice in my head seems to idolize the creatures I hate so completely.
It was lost to them shortly after it was born. All that was ever found of the mother was her body, and in her hand, she held a tiny scale. It was like oil on water, every color of the rainbow sliding over a black surface. The mother dragon was dead, brought down by Thorne himself. It is Thorne who took the scale, Thorne who planted the scales in the maze.
That has me straightening. This history lesson had a point.
It’s suggesting there’s a way out.
A way for me to live.
“Thorne? Why would he hide a sixth scale? Where?”
I seriously doubt he ever expected it to be needed.
“Well, you know everything, right? Where is it?”
It was never supposed to come to this.
“You’ve said that. Now tell me where the scale is!” I demand, standing to my full height and swinging my sword, flinging the rain off. If there's another scale, I’ll find it. I’ll kill anything that stands in my way. It’s my only way out of here!
Behind you! Duck!
I’m not fast enough. A rough hand grabs me, ripping my shift down the back and throwing me across the passageway. I crash into the wall, gasping for breath as the hot breath of a minotaur caresses my neck. I can feel it as it touches my back, stroking down the scars I got the day Elysandra—
The beast roars, grabbing me by the back of the neck and hauling me into the air. It turns me, looks me in the eye, and roars again.
There! Around its neck! The scale!
I look down. The creature's thick hand is wrapped around my throat from behind, and I see it. There, on a leather strap around its neck like a collar, is a single sharp scale. Smaller than my palm and possibly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Just as the voice said—like oil on water. A shimmering kaleidoscope of ever-changing color that refuses to remain still long enough to be named.
You have your sword, Anara! Slay the beast! Do it now!
“The scale is mine,” I snarl.
I grip my sword and raise it, watching the minotaur's eyes as I do. Its grip loosens on my neck at the same moment it tilts its head to the side. Its eyes, so large and black, begin to leak tears. Its lips twitch as it slowly closes its eyes and prepares for death.
“You want to die?” I choke, and the beast nods as tears fall freely. My heart breaks for him, despite all he’s done. I raise my sword, arcing it back as far as I can. “Be at peace,” I whisper.
Then swing.
My blade is so sharp that it slices through the creature like soft cheese. Its head falls from its shoulders and rolls away before its body crumples. I fall with it, landing on the warm, slick muscles, and quickly scramble away as if it’ll come alive and attack again.
Shuddering, I wobble on my feet as I walk toward the head. With one hand, I grab a horn and lift it. With the other, I pull the collar off the creature’s neck.
You’ve done it! You have the scale! You can leave this place!
I nod as if the voice in my head can see me. I can’t speak, I can barely move. The minotaur asked for death. It let me kill it. He wanted to die. He was sentient, alive… Silas is more of a monster than what that creature was meant to be.
My grip around the horn tightens. I’m bringing this with me, showing everyone what Silas is capable of. If I can do one thing to honor this tragedy, it’s that. I’ll keep his skull as a reminder, a memory of the evil that can corrupt people. A memory of a monster that laid down its life so I could escape.
Slowly, I walk toward the portal. There's no one there, no one watching. No one will see me walk through alive. Tears run down my face, making paths in the dirt and grime and blood.
You’ve done well, Anara. You succeeded, your future lies open before you. Your destiny awaits just beyond that portal.
I can't respond. I’m too drained, too tired. By the time I reach the portal I collapse, falling through it and landing on the warm stone as the sun sets over the castle. Sighing, I rub my face on the hard surface.
“You…you found it?” Thorne asks, falling to his knees above me and rolling me into his arms.
I stare up at his blind face, both hands still gripping the skull and the collar like my life depends on it. “How did you know about the sixth dragon?”
“How did you know?” he asks, a spark of humor in his voice. He helps me sit, his hand running down my back when he gasps. “You were burned?” His fingers trace my entire back, feeling the twisted and bubbled skin that only the queen’s own menders know is there. “How? When?”
“When the silver dragon killed Elysandra. This is my punishment.” I sigh, collapsing in Thorne’s arms.
“No,” he whispers. “No, that can’t be.”
I want to ask him what he means, but my mouth can’t form the words.
The world is growing dark as I lose consciousness. My body knows I’m safe now and I can’t force it to cooperate any longer. I surrender to sleep, greeting it like an old friend, and letting it pull me into velvet darkness.
My fate is going to have to wait.