The fall of Valkar was not the end of everything; it was the beginning of a new and more complicated era. Kieran and I sat in the throne hall, partners attempting to repair what centuries of conflict had ruined.
"We must return to Amber," Kieran said, gripping my hand tightly. "My people need to see that I am well, and that peace is not just an illusion."
His ash-gray eyes carried a new burden, no less heavy than the weight of war.
"I'll go with you," I replied without hesitation.
He shook his head. "Not yet. Amber is not safe for you. There are still those loyal to Valkar, and they will see you as an easy target."
I felt the urge to argue, but I knew he was right. Valkar had fallen, but his network of supporters still spread across the two kingdoms.
Malakai entered the hall, frowning. "We found a hideout of Valkar. There were documents… letters addressed to someone called 'The Shepherd'."
"The Shepherd?" Kieran and I exchanged a worried glance. The name was strange, yet it carried a hidden threat.
"It seems Valkar was merely a pawn," Malakai said, handing one of the letters to me. "Someone was controlling him from the shadows."
Kieran took the letter, his eyes widening as he read. "This is impossible… 'The Shepherd' knows everything about us. Knows about the dragons, the secret passages, and even…" He stopped and looked at me.
"Knows what?" I asked, a growing sense of dread rising inside me.
"About us," he whispered, barely audible. "He knows that our feelings were never meant to be part of the plan."
A chill ran through my bones. Another eye was watching us—an eye that knew more than it should.
"What should we do?" I asked, trying to hide my trembling.
"We wait," Kieran said, his eyes flashing with tactical intelligence. "We wait until this 'Shepherd' reveals himself, and we will be ready."
That night, as the palace sank into a deep sleep for the first time in ages, I stood on the balcony, a place that had nearly been my end. But this time, I was not alone.
"Can't sleep?" Kieran's voice came from behind me.
I turned to him. In the moonlight, his face seemed calm, but I saw the storm in his eyes.
"I fear I'll wake up to find it was all a dream," I admitted in a low voice.
He stepped closer, his brows furrowed. "Do you think this is a dream?" he whispered, his fingers brushing my cheeks gently.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the beat of my heart. "No. It's a bitter reality. Because now we have something to lose."
At that moment, we heard the sound of massive wings. Nyktis and Glisir were soaring through the night sky, intertwined in a silent dance. It was a vision of beauty almost painful to behold.
"Look," Kieran said, pointing to the dragons. "This is what we always were. And what we are meant to be."
Yet amidst this temporary peace, I could not shake the feeling that the Shepherd's eyes were watching us from the shadows, and that a greater storm awaited its chance to strike.
"The Shepherd…" I whispered, waking suddenly from sleep, my forehead covered in cold sweat. The dream had been vivid as day: a colossal shadow looming over a mountain, surrounded by darkness, while I screamed, trying to reach Kieran as he drifted away from me.
My room in Nevis Palace was quiet, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. Yet the terror of the dream lingered in my chest like a shard of ice.
"Elyana?" Kieran's voice came from the doorway. He stood there as if my instincts had awakened him too. "Are you alright? I heard you screaming."
"Just a dream," I tried to sound calm, but my voice trembled.
He entered the room, ignoring protocol. He sat on the edge of the bed, his ash-gray eyes studying my face in the dark. "A dream… or a nightmare?"
"The Shepherd," I could no longer keep it inside. "I saw him in the dream. He was trying to separate us."
My heartbeat thudded loudly in my ears as Kieran grasped my hand. "Not just a dream. I saw him too. Exactly the same thing."
"How is that possible?" I froze.
"The bond that unites us has become stronger than we imagined," he said, raising his hands to reveal strange markings on his wrists, similar to those we had seen in the cave. "The dragons are not the only connected beings."
I looked at my own wrists and saw the same markings forming on my skin. They were not painful, but carried a strange warmth, a vivid reminder of the connection between us.
"What's happening to us, Kieran?"
"Something ancient," he replied, eyes gleaming with new understanding. "Something that hasn't happened since the time of our ancestors. The Shepherd knows of this, and he seeks to prevent this bond from completing."
"And why? What will happen if it completes?"
"Power," he said quietly, but his words carried weight. "Power enough to change the balance of the world. Power enough to make the legendary dragons follow a single leader."
I began to understand. The Shepherd was not afraid of a kingdom alliance; he feared the union of two souls, the union of two forces.
"So, we are in greater danger than we imagined."
"Yes." He held my face in his hands. "But together, we are stronger than anyone could imagine."
Then we heard the roar of two dragons in the night. Nyktis and Glisir were flying near the window, their eyes glowing in the dark. They could feel what we felt.
"Look," Kieran whispered. "They know too. They are ready to fight as well."
I looked at the dragons, then at the man holding my face in his hands. In his ash-gray eyes, I saw fear—but also unwavering determination.
"If this Shepherd wants a war, we will give it to him," I said, my voice finally steady. "But this time, we fight together."
Kieran smiled, a smile full of mixed emotions. "Together. That word now means everything."
In the silence of the night, as the dragons watched over us from above, we knew our true battle had not yet begun. But we were ready. Because some bonds are stronger than any fear, stronger than any enemy, no matter how terrifying.
The next morning
"My brother?" Kieran whispered, disbelief in his voice. "But… this is impossible. Christophe died in the castle fire ten years ago."
Malakai tossed a yellowed sheet of paper onto the table. "The letter confirms he survived, and that 'The Shepherd' rescued him and raised him."
I held the paper with a trembling hand. The handwriting was elegant and sharp, the words carrying a deadly chill: "The older brother returns to claim what is rightfully his. The throne and the dragon. Prepare to surrender."
I looked at Kieran and saw the shock that shook him more than any battle. "Christophe always envied you for your bond with Nyktis."
"He used to call me 'Monster's Son,'" Kieran said quietly. "But I thought death had erased all that hatred."
At that moment, Serena burst into the room. "Something strange is happening to the dragons! They are acting unusually agitated."
We all rushed to the balcony. In the sky, Nyktis and Glisir were flying in erratic circles, roaring in distress. But the strangest thing happened when Kieran tried to calm Nyktis. The black dragon did not recognize him; its red eyes glowed with a strange intensity, as if it didn't know him.
"What kind of magic is this?" Kieran shouted, trying to approach again, but Nyktis let out a violent roar as a warning.
It became clear that another power was controlling him.
"Christophe," Kieran whispered in frustration. "He must have found a way to control Nyktis."
I felt true fear for the first time. If his brother could control Nyktis, it meant Kieran's greatest power had passed into the hands of his enemy.
"What do we do?" I asked, watching the dragons whirl in chaos.
"We need to find Christophe before he strikes," Kieran said, his eyes burning with anger and betrayal. "I must face my brother."
I gripped his hand. "You won't face him alone. We are partners in this, remember?"
Then we heard a strange sound from afar—a soft, mournful flute, eerie yet haunting. With every note, Nyktis became more agitated.
"It's him," Kieran said, pointing toward the sound. "He's using the same melody our father used to calm the dragons when we were children."
I looked at Kieran and saw in his eyes a frightened child returning to the past, a child terrified of his older brother who had always envied his closeness to Nyktis.
"It won't work this time," I said, squeezing his hand tighter. "Because you are no longer that scared child, and you are not alone."
As the flute's notes rose, we realized the upcoming battle would not be one of swords or dragons—but a battle of memories, a battle of brothers, and a battle of love stronger than any magic.
The sound was not mere notes, but ancient magic—a strange melody that stirred turmoil deep within the soul. With every note, Nyktis grew more frenzied, his red eyes sparking with fire.
"It's black magic!" Malakai shouted, trying to approach the dragon.
But Nyktis had changed; he no longer recognized anyone. Even Glisir began to withdraw, his blue eyes reflecting confusion and fear.
"Christophe!" Kieran yelled at the shadowy figure. "Show yourself! Face me as a man, not as a cowardly sorcerer!"
For a moment, silence fell. Then a tall man emerged from the trees, black-haired like Kieran, but with green, venom-like eyes. He wore a black robe and carried an ancient flute carved from bone.
"Ah, my little brother," Christophe said, his voice smooth as a serpent's hiss. "You still act like an angry child."
"I thought you were dead," Kieran said, his voice carrying a decade of pain.
"Death was only the beginning of my journey," Christophe smiled proudly. "I've gained powers you could never have dreamed of, and soon, I will reclaim all that was taken from me."
I looked at Christophe and saw the hatred in his eyes, born of jealousy and greed.
"The throne was never yours," I said, stepping forward. "And Kieran never took anything from you."
Christophe turned toward me, his green eyes assessing me coldly. "Ah, the beautiful princess. I've heard much about you, and how you've enchanted my weak brother."
"Shut your mouth!" Kieran lunged forward to protect me.
But Christophe raised the flute again. "Let's see who will win the princess's heart—the brother hiding behind a dragon, or I, who control the dragon itself?"