Chapter 4 - Secrets of the Bloodline
The air in the archives tasted of old parchment and decaying leather. By the flickering light of a single tallow candle, Elara tore through ancient leather-bound ledgers, her eyes scanning handwritten chronicles dating back to the conquest.
"There," she murmured, her trembling finger landing on a faded parchment page sealed with the wax stamp of the First King.
The text laid bare a dark, closely guarded secret: the Valerius dynasty had not conquered the realm through superior strategy alone. They had systematically hunted down and slaughtered the true Dragon Riders—the ancient bloodline of House Vesperis—fearing their bond with the mountain beasts. Elara’s family wasn't practicing forbidden sorcery; they were the rightful, surviving heirs to the ancient throne, a heritage her ancestors had hidden away for generations under assumed names.
King Aldric hadn't just murdered her child; he had committed patricide against the true bloodline of the realm to secure a stolen crown.
"Looking for a bedtime story, Your Majesty?"
Elara spun around, a heavy iron candlestick raised defensively in her hand.
Standing in the aisle was Master of Whispers Corin, a thin, sharp-featured man with a crossbow already aimed directly at her chest. A cold smile played on his thin lips.
"The king sends his regards," Corin whispered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "And to think, you almost made it out."
Before the bolt could leave the bow, a sudden, blinding flash of emerald light filled the aisle. Ignis burst from his leather harness, letting out a sharp, piercing screech that rattled the dusty shelves. A tiny puff of superheated air erupted from the dragon’s jaws, catching Corin’s sleeve and instantly charring the fabric.
Distraught by the sudden heat and blinding light, Corin’s aim jerked wide. The crossbow bolt splintered the wooden shelf beside Elara's head.
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Elara lunged forward with the speed of a striking viper, bringing the heavy iron candlestick down hard across the spy's temple. Corin crumpled silently to the floor, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, Elara looked down at the tiny dragon, who puffed out a small wisp of gray smoke and nuzzled against her collarbone. They had crossed the point of no return.
