Chapter 3 The Burn
BYRON
The girl sank to the floor, looking dejected . From the terrified look on her face, she must have figured out what a terrible mistake she made by declaring her identity.
She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in fear. She looked so vulnerable at the moment that I almost felt pity for her. Almost. But Dragons didn't sympathize with wolves.
Bringing her here was a mistake that I've regretted every single day for the past three days. I wouldn't have had to if I wasn't on patrol and the other Heirs hadn't seen her too.
The three of us, with our soldiers, were out hunting a pack of Hollowborns that attacked one of our hatching grounds. We managed to kill some of them, until they all headed towards Thornwood.
Wolves territory was forbidden for Dragons and vice versa. We had no option but to camp outside their borders, and hope the Hollowborns show up before daybreak when they would go back into hiding.
I had used my powers to keep us invisible from sight. It was easier since it was pitch black last night. But somehow, the girl had run directly towards me, she saw me despite the thick cover of darkness.
She'd come to me and fell unconscious right in my arms. For some reason, I felt like I knew her too. The strange moment only lasted for a second before the other Heirs showed up to ask why my shadows fell.
I'd called off the hunt and brought her straight to the Keep. A decision I totally regret. Judging by the expression on the High Lords faces, they wouldn't take the presence of the wolf lightly. She would be thrown into the dungeons immediately for questioning, or worse, killed.
She was so young that I doubt she's had her first shift yet. I couldn't save her even if I wanted to. Saving an enemy is considered treason. And treason for an Heir is, well, a fate worse than death.
“If you're a werewolf, why did you wander so far away from your people in the middle of the night?” Kalias, the High Lord of the Fireborns, asked.
The girl kept her head low, her long golden hair hiding her face from view. She continued shivering, her teeth chattering. She didn't acknowledge the High Lord's question, which seemed to irritate him.
Carden smirked behind his father, but quickly wiped his smug expression off before anyone noticed. The Fireborn Heir loathed his father and was always happy to see him put in his place. Aidas too.
The three of us weren't fond of our fathers. Seeing someone disregard them was very rare and very fun to watch. We weren't very close either. I trusted them the way a soldier trusts his legion on the battlefield. Besides, we've had too many losses for us to be rivals.
“Speak, Wolf, or lose your tongue.” my father thundered.
It took a lot of effort to restrain myself from scowling. He was always quick to threaten people's lives.
“I…I don't know.” she stuttered, her voice quivering with fear.
“You don't know?” Rigel, the High Lord of the Waterborn Dragons, said.
The girl nodded frantically. I couldn't tell if she was smart or dumb for not begging for her life. The chances of her leaving the Dragon Keep alive were close to none.
“Since you have refused to talk, we shall pass our verdict.”
Murmurs of Dragons agreeing with my father broke out in the hall, many of them demanding her death. The Dragons had lost so much to the Wolves already, including our very essence. Our shifted forms.
“I command that you–” the doors burst open, cutting my father's words short.
I twirled around, drawing my sword out in the process and took a fighting stance before the dais. Aidas and Carden were beside me, swords out, within the blink of an eye. We were prepared for whatever threat just entered.
But it wasn't a threat, it was a healer. She ran into the throne room and fell to her knees before the dais, her head hung low.
“How dare you barge into the High Lords meeting? Do you have a death wish, woman?” Kalias thundered, smoke emitting from his nose.
I threw a side glance at Aidas and he nodded in understanding. The Fireborn High Lord might lose his temper very soon, no one wanted him to burn the throne room down. Again.
“Forgive me, My Lord. It's the young lord. He's fallen under The Burn.” the healer revealed.
My sword wavered in my hand as the news hit me. Not Aeron, not him. Sweat formed in my palm and I immediately sheathed the sword. I couldn't comprehend the thought of losing my young nephew so soon.
“When did this happen?” My father demanded, his voice stern but laced with a hint of panic.
“A few minutes ago when the shift took over him and he couldn't control it. The royal physician is trying to stop it from taking him, but she says it's a losing battle. Aeron wouldn't make it.” she sobbed.
The Burn had tormented dragons for over two decades. Many dragons have lost their families to the terrible blight. No one knew how it started, or how to cure it. We just knew it killed.
The Burn gets triggered when a Dragon tries to take their shifted forms. All Dragon Shifters can breathe fire in their shifted forms, which makes us immune to fire. But The Burn turns a Dragon fire against them, making them burn from the inside out.
The only way to avoid succumbing to the plague is to not shift, essentially denying us the right to be ourselves. It's easier for adult dragons to fight the urge to shift, but it's way harder for dragons in transition.
Aeron had just hatched seventeen years ago so he was still in transition. His senses must have taken over that he couldn't stop the shift.
“Bring him to me.” my father commanded, his voice detached. The thought of losing his grandson had stripped his ‘High Lord' mask, revealing the man underneath.
Aidas clapped his hand on my back, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Carden shook his head with pity.
Aeron’s painful wails reached the throne room before he did. The wails were so similar to when his mother gave in to the plague many years ago. It was so unfair that my nephew had to suffer the same fate as his mother.
The royal physician rushed in with two guards behind her. They were carrying Aeron in their arms. They laid him before the dais, a few feet away to where the werewolf girl knelt.
Everyone seems to have forgotten about her, our attention focused on Aeron.
My father, High Lord of the Shadowborn, rose from his seat, a mournful expression on his face. He stared at Aeron on the floor as he thrashed against the plague. His hands were already burnt to crisp. It was only a matter of time before his entire body succumbed to the flames.
The throne room was silent. It was like everyone was holding their breath for the young prince, saying their goodbyes.
I kept my eyes on my nephew, the last honor I could give him before he passed, when suddenly, light like I've never seen before began spreading in the room. The light seemed to have a life of its own as it went into Aeron.
Murmurs broke out in the throne room and all eyes turned to the werewolf girl, still kneeling on the floor, her eyes fixed on my nephew.
Aeron's screams subsided, his burns began to heal at a rate I've never seen before. Just when my nephew's body healed, the light retracted back to the werewolf girl. She sank to the floor, seemingly drained, but she was still breathing.
A sense of relief washed over me as Aeron released a breath. The werewolf just healed my nephew of the plague. Since the terrible blight befell the dragons, no healer has ever been strong enough to heal it.
“Did she just…” Carden trailed off, his expression that of bewilderment.
The High Lords exchanged glances, clearly surprised by what they just witnessed. They couldn't kill her now. Not when her healing powers were witnessed by the public.
We needed that healing power if we didn't want Dragon Shifters to go extinct.
“You saved my grandson from death. What kind of healing power is that, Wolf?” my father asked, his voice raw with emotions.
The girl forced herself into a sitting position. She lifted her chin up but kept her eyes firmly planted on the floor.
Despite her slightly confident poise, her voice shook with fear as she spoke.
“I don't understand what just happened. I've never done something like that before.”
“You don't know how to wield your power?” Rigel asked with surprise.
She didn't offer any response, but the way her face fell was enough to answer enough. A werewolf that possessed what was probably the greatest healing power didn't know how to wield it. That was unheard of.
The High Lords casted a sound shield over themselves and began talking. After what seemed like forever, they reversed the shield. My father was the first to speak.
“The werewolf just displayed magnificent healing power that has never been witnessed before. She also saved a royal. However, these facts do not erase what she truly is. Wolves are our enemies. The High Lords have decided that she be placed in the dungeons until the next meeting, awaiting her final verdict.”
The guards rushed to grab her immediately my father laid his command. As they dragged her out of the throne room, I couldn't help but wonder how she just saved herself from death.