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Chapter 12 - THE DIRECTORE DECREE

Marlo stepped between Kael and Nyx. Nyx’s eyes snapped open, his pupils slitting into narrow black pins as a dangerous orange glow warmed his throat.

"Stand down, Kael," Alistair ordered, stepping forward and displaying his Directorate badge. "This facility is under direct command of the Recovery Directorate."

"Not anymore," Kael replied smoothly, pulling a sealed parchment from his leather coat. "By decree of the Ministry of War, all 'unstable' dragons are to be transferred immediately to the Iron Spire for safety protocols. That includes your black beast."

"The Iron Spire is a prison," Marlo said, her voice trembling with rising fury. "They keep dragons sedated on blue-root until their minds rot!"

"They keep dragons controlled," Kael corrected coldly. "The High Council has decided that your little demonstration on the docks proved one thing: wild creatures respond to emotional bribery, not discipline. We cannot risk a rogue beast panicking during an actual aerial border skirmish."

"Nyx isn't rogue," Marlo spat. "He fought off three corrupted riders and saved this city!"

"He saved you," Kael said, pointing a heavy gloved finger at her. "He obeys you because you pander to his pain. That makes him a personal weapon, not an Imperial war-dragon. Hand over his reins by sunset, or we take him by force."

Kael turned and marched out, his guards falling into step behind him.

Marlo looked at Alistair. "We can't let them take him."

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"If we resist a direct order from the Ministry of War, we'll be branded traitors," Alistair said grimly. "Everything we fought for—clearing Ren’s name, exposing Voss—will be erased."

"Then we don't fight them here," Marlo said, looking deeply into Nyx’s amber eyes. "We give them what they want. We go to the Iron Spire."

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