“I Came to Steal Your Dragon, Not Save Your Empire!” — The Enemy Spy Climbed Onto the Emperor’s War Dragon as His Soldiers Raised Their Crossbows

The subterranean passages beneath Highspire were massive, carved out of the hollowed-out lava tubes of the ancient volcano. Water pipes, sewage channels, and secret military thoroughfares crisscrossed in the dark, lit only by scattered torches and glowing moss.

Kira moved through the wide central tube like a shadow, her wings folded tight against her body, her claws tearing into the stone floor with a rhythmic, thunderous thump-thump-thump.

Dean held Isra tightly around the waist with one arm while holding the reins with the other. "If Malakor reaches the Lower Vaults, he has access to the city’s dragon-killing ballista array! He can lock down the entire mountain!"

"Why would an emperor build dragon-killing weapons under his own palace?!" Isra called back, shielding her face from flying stone debris.

"My grandfather built them two centuries ago during the Dragon Rebellion!" Dean answered. "They fire giant iron harpoons tethered to steel cables! If one hits Kira, it will rip her out of the air!"

Ahead, the tunnel opened into a massive underground cavern—the Central Water Reservoir. A massive lake of dark, cold mountain water filled the cavern floor, spanned by three ancient stone bridges that led to the lower armory.

Standing on the central bridge was Lord Chamberlain Malakor, surrounded by over fifty heavily armed mercenaries and four mounted repeating ballista crews.

"Stop right there, Your Majesty!" Malakor’s voice echoed off the cavern walls, distorted and booming. "You are outnumbered and trapped underground! A dragon cannot fly in these catacombs! She has no room to maneuver!"

Dean pulled Kira to a halt at the edge of the cavern. The dragon crouched low, her tail sweeping back and forth, a deep, ominous growl vibrating in her chest.

Isra looked at the four ballista crews. The heavy iron weapons were aimed directly at Kira’s chest. The steel harpoons glistened with a pale, glowing liquid.

"Wyvern poison," Dean whispered, his face turning dark. "One scratch will paralyze her muscles in seconds."

"Dean..." Isra said, her mind racing. "Look at the water pipes above the bridge. The central aqueduct feeds directly into this cavern."

Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling. Running directly above Malakor’s position was a colossal iron pipe, ten feet in diameter, held together by ancient, rusted brass rivets. It carried millions of gallons of mountain water from the summit reservoirs down into the lower city.

"Kira can't use fire in here without cooking us with steam," Isra murmured. "But she doesn't need to fire at the bridge."

Dean looked at Isra, a dark, brilliant smile spreading across his face. "You really do think like an enemy spy."

Dean leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Kira’s scales, sending a precise, concentrated thought directly into the dragon's mind.

Target the ceiling. High heat. Concentrated burst.

Kira’s violet eyes blazed with blinding intensity. The air around her snout began to shimmer with intense, shimmering heat.

Malakor sensed the danger instantly. "Fire! Fire the harpoons!"

BOOM!

Four massive steel harpoons launched simultaneously with a deafening crack of releasing tension.

At the exact same instant, Kira opened her jaws and unleashed a blinding beam of pure, white-hot plasma directly straight up.

The fire missed the harpoons entirely. The heavy iron projectiles whistled through the air, but without room to glide, Kira simply dropped flat onto her stomach, letting the harpoons shatter harmlessly against the stone ceiling above her back.

The plasma beam struck the massive iron aqueduct overhead.

The ancient metal didn't just heat up—it exploded. The water inside instantly vaporized, expanding with catastrophic pressure.

CRACK-BOOM!

The giant iron pipe ruptured along a hundred-foot section. A torrential wall of thousands of tons of freezing mountain water burst forth, plunging straight down onto the central bridge like a falling ocean.

"NO!" Malakor screamed as the catastrophic wall of water slammed into his forces.

The bridge gave way under the immense pressure. Mercenaries, ballistas, stone pillars, and Lord Malakor were swept off the structure in a roaring white deluge, washed into the deep, dark depths of the subterranean lake below.

The echo of the collapsing stone and roaring water gradually faded, leaving only the sound of dripping water and the heavy breathing of the dragon.

Isra stared in awe at the massive waterfall now cascading into the lake where the bridge had been moments before. "Is... is he dead?"

Dean watched the churning water closely. "A fall from that height into cold water, crushed by stone? Unless he’s made of iron, Malakor’s reign is over."

Kira let out a victorious chuff, turning her head to lick Isra’s arm with her rough, warm tongue, almost knocking the spy off the saddle.

Isra laughed, a nervous, exhausted sound, and patted the dragon's snout. "Good girl, Kira. Good girl."

Dean looked down at the forged logbook still resting in his lap. The immediate threat in the capital was broken, but as he looked up at the tunnel leading out toward the mountain slopes, his expression turned grim.

"It's not over," Dean said quietly.

Isra turned to look at him. "What do you mean? We defeated Malakor. We have the proof."

"Malakor was the brain, but his generals are already at the border," Dean said, pointing back toward the west. "General Vance thinks the resistance launched a treacherous surprise attack. Commander Bren thinks I tried to murder him. Two armies are currently mobilizing for total war in the western canyon. By tomorrow morning, twenty thousand men will butcher each other, and neither side will listen to reason."

Isra’s heart sank. She thought of her village, of the starving families in Oakhaven, of the young imperial soldiers she had seen cut down on the cliffs.

"Then we go back," Isra said firmly.

Dean looked at her in surprise. "Isra... you're a westerner. You could take a horse now and disappear into the mountains. You’ve done enough. You saved my life."

Isra looked down at her battered leather satchel, then up at the Emperor of Kalith.

"I didn't come across the mountains to save your life, Dean," Isra said, her eyes burning with fierce determination. "I came to steal your dragon to save my people. And right now, the only way to save my people is to stop that army with you."