Meanwhile, Drexo remain unaware of the chaos going on in Dragon City. He remain entangled with maria on the bed. She lay beneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved against hers with a hunger.
For a moment, the world outside did not exist. No war. No duty. No throne. Just breath and skin and the fragile illusion that time could pause if he wanted it badly enough.
Then, something broke. Not outside, but Inside.
Drexo jerked. His body stiffened abruptly, his lips parting from hers as if something had yanked him back from a place he should not have been. His hand flew to his chest, gripping tightly as a sharp, unseen force seemed to twist through him.
Air caught in his throat. He gasped.
Maria blinked, confused at first, her hands still resting on his shoulders. "What is wrong?" she asked, her voice shifting quickly as she pushed herself up slightly, her fingers brushing against his chest where his hand pressed hard.
Drexo did not answer. His chest rose, then fell.
Rose again, heavier this time, as if each breath had to fight its way out of him.
For a moment, no words came. Just the sound of him trying to breathe through something he could not explain.
"Say something," Maria said, her voice tightening now, her fingers pressing more firmly against him. "You are scaring me."
Drexo swallowed. His hand remained where it was, fingers curled as though trying to hold something inside from breaking apart.
"I…" His voice came out low, uncertain. He paused. His eyes unfocused for a second, as if listening to something far away.
"I think!" he whispered. Another breath. "…something bad had happened to Dereek."
Maria's brows drew together immediately. "What are you talking about?" But Drexo was no longer looking at her.
His mind had already moved. Something cold had settled deep in his chest, spreading slowly, steadily, until it reached every part of him.
He knew that feeling. It was not fear. It was not doubt. It was certainty. He pulled away.
Quickly.
The warmth of the moment shattered completely as he swung his legs off the bed and reached for his clothes.
"Where are you going?" Maria asked, her voice edged now with something sharper, something closer to annoyance than concern.
Drexo did not stop.
"I have to return home," he said, his movements hurried but controlled, fingers working through the motions without hesitation.
Maria stared at him, disbelief creeping into her expression. "Return home? Now?" Something in her voice lingered between irritation and disbelief.
"You are leaving like this?" Drexo pulled his shirt over his head, his jaw tight, his mind already far from the room.
"Something bad must have gone wrong over there," he said. He did not look at her when he said it.
Before Maria could respond, he reached for his hood, pulled it over his head, and moved toward the door.
Just like that. Gone. The door shut behind him with a dull thud. Maria remained on the bed, still, staring at the empty space he had left behind.
For a moment, she said nothing. Then she exhaled sharply and threw herself back against the mattress.
"I once heard the Dragarians are weird people," she muttered, frustration bleeding into her tone as she stared at the ceiling.
She turned her head slightly, glaring at the door as if it might answer her. "Who leaves a woman hanging."
She blew out a breath, her irritation settling into something quieter, something she didn't bother naming.
Drexo moved fast. The streets blurred as he passed through them, his steps quick, his mind focused on one thing.
Home.
The feeling in his chest had not faded. If anything, it had deepened. He reached the docks without slowing, his eyes scanning quickly until he found what he needed.
A boat, small, and enough. He didn't waste words. Coins exchanged hands.
The man barely had time to nod before Drexo had already stepped in, pushing off with urgency, the paddle cutting into the water as he drove himself forward.
The distance between him and the shore grew. But the weight in his chest remained.
Heavy, and unmoving.
Meanwhile, Domion and Theon rode hard. The sound of hooves pounded against the earth, relentless, pushing them forward as fast as the horses could carry them. The wind cut against their faces, sharp and unforgiving, but neither slowed.
Not even for a second. The river was close. They both knew it. Just a little further and they could board a ship, disappear into distance before the enemy could close in.
Hope, thin, fragile. But there. Then, they saw them. Northern soldiers. Lined across the border like a wall of steel and flesh, their presence sudden and undeniable.
Domion pulled sharply on the reins. The horse reared slightly before settling. "Shit!" he breathed, his eyes scanning the line quickly, already calculating what it meant.
"Edmond stationed his men all around the city." The realization hit fast. Too fast. He had not even finished speaking when one of the soldiers turned.
Saw him..The red hair. It stood out like fire. Impossible to miss. "Look!" the soldier shouted, his arm lifting, finger pointing straight at him. "That is a Dragarian."
Domion did not hesitate. He turned his horse immediately. Theon followed. No words. Just movement.
They ran. The opposite direction. Behind them, "He is running!"
The shout echoed. Then came the sound.
Hooves, many, and fast.
The chase began..Domion glanced back once. Just once. And that was enough..A host of men.
Closing in. Too many..Too fast. "There is no way we will escape them," he breathed, the truth settling hard and immediate.
His hand moved quickly..He pulled the bag from his side. The weight of the dragon eggs shifted inside it.
Then he threw it toward Theon. Theon caught it instinctively, his grip tightening around the bag as confusion flashed across his face.
"Why are you throwing them to me?" Domion smiled. Not wide. Not bright. But certain.
"Find Drexo," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "Give the eggs to him." His eyes held Theon's. "He must find a way to hatch them, and return to reclaim the Golden Throne."
Theon's grip tightened. "I cannot leave you behind."
Domion's smile did not fade. "Both of us cannot escape. Someone have to stand and dekay them," he said simply. "less, they will get us."
The truth sat between them. Unavoidable. Then, theon pulled on his reins.
Hard.
His horse halted. "Let me be the one to die." Domion snapped his head toward him and halted as well. "No." The word came sharp.
Immediate.
"I have red hair," Domion said, his voice firm now, leaving no space for argument. "I can easily be identified."
He leaned forward slightly. "But not you." Theon said nothing. "You will be able to escape," Domion continued. "But not me."
Then he moved. Quick, and decisive. He jumped off his horse, boots hitting the ground as his hand went to his sword.
Steel slid free. Clean, and final. "Now go." Theon opened his mouth. But Domion's voice cut through before he could speak.
"It is not a request." His eyes burned. "Your prince commands you." That settled it.
Theon bowed his head once. Tight, and respectful.
Then he turned. His horse surged forward, carrying him away, the bag secured, the weight of it pressing against his side.
He did not look back. He couldn't. Behind him, Domion stood alone. The ground trembled as the Northern soldiers closed in, their numbers swallowing the space between them quickly.
He lifted his sword. Slowly. Then raised it toward the heavens. His voice followed.
Clear, and steady. "Dear Ago, God of Fire," he said, the words flowing with a quiet strength that cut through the noise of the approaching army.
"The guardian of Jupital." His grip tightened. "Breath your fire upon my sword." The wind shifted.
Slight, but there. "and let my enemies fall." The sky answered. Not gently. Not quietly.
The heavens thundered. Violent. As if something had heard him. As if something had chosen to listen.