Blades & Lies

The hunt was over, but the air was still thick with tension.

Evelyn sheathed her sword, her pulse still thrumming from the battle, but she kept her expression neutral as Velthorne and Alistair Veyne continued their silent evaluation.

They had proven themselves. For now.

The draken lay motionless on the damp forest floor, its massive form steaming as the morning chill settled over its lifeless body. A victory. But Evelyn knew this was no ordinary hunt—this had been a test.

And judging by the way Alistair Veyne was still watching them, it wasn't over.

Damien, however, looked as unbothered as ever, dusting himself off before flashing a smirk.

"Well, that was fun. What's next? Jousting? A duel to the death? Perhaps a riddle contest?"

Velthorne chuckled, but his eyes remained sharp. "We'll see."

Alistair stepped forward, adjusting the gloves on his hands. "For now, let's return to the manor. There is… much to discuss."

Evelyn barely suppressed a frown. They weren't done with them yet.

She exchanged a brief glance with Damien, who tilted his head slightly, silver eyes glinting with something too unreadable for her liking.

Then—

The sky darkened.

A sudden rush of wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves with an unnatural force. The horses stirred uneasily, their ears flicking back as an eerie stillness settled over the woods.

And then—a shadow passed over them.

Massive.

Unmistakable.

Evelyn's breath caught.

Above them, high in the sky, a figure moved against the pale gray clouds—vast, majestic, ancient.

A dragon.

Not a draken. Not one of the creatures they had just slain.

A real, ancient dragon.

Its wings spanned the heavens, each beat of its flight stirring the very air. Its long, sinuous body gleamed with deep obsidian scales, almost blending with the sky if not for the faint glow that traced along the edges of its form.

It was a vision out of legends and nightmares.

And yet—

The moment Evelyn turned to Damien, she realized something was wrong.

He was frozen.

Not in awe. Not in fear.

In something far worse.

His usual smirk was gone, his silver eyes wide, staring at the sky as if he were seeing a ghost.

His fingers clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven.

Evelyn had never seen Damien Aldric shaken.

But this—this was something deeper than fear.

Before she could say anything, it happened.

A flash of memory—

Not of a burning city.

Not of destruction.

But of a mission.

A dragon hunt.

The scent of pine and damp stone filled his senses as he crouched behind the crumbling ruins of an ancient fortress, his blade glinting in the moonlight.

The world was quiet, save for the steady breathing beside him.

A woman's voice, hushed but urgent.

"Damien, focus. It's circling back."

He turned his head.

She was there.

Golden hair tangled in the wind, sharp eyes fixed on the sky above them. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, her body coiled like a spring, ready to strike.

They had been hunting this beast for days.

Tracking it across the mountain ranges, following the destruction left in its wake.

And now—they had it cornered.

Damien had been reckless back then. Too confident, too eager for the kill.

But she had always been the careful one.

"You're hesitating," he murmured. "That's unlike you."

She flicked her gaze to him, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at her lips.

"I'm not hesitating," she whispered. "I'm making sure we don't end up dead."

Then—

A shift in the wind.

The air grew hot, the ground trembling beneath them.

Damien's grip tightened on his sword.

It was coming.

Then she spoke again.

A phrase he never forgot.

"If you get me killed on this mission, I'll come back to haunt you."

The exact same words Evelyn had said to him just days ago.

The memory shattered.

The present slammed back into him like a dagger to the gut.

He was no longer in those ruins.

No longer standing beside her.

She was gone.

But the dragon—this dragon, in the sky above them now—

It was the same one.

The one that had taken everything.

Damien's hands trembled for a fraction of a second before he forced them still.

He shoved the memory down, buried it deep where it couldn't be touched.

Not here.

Not now.

Evelyn was still watching him.

"Damien," she said again, quieter this time.

He forced a smirk.

Like nothing had happened. Like his entire past hadn't just resurfaced in the blink of an eye.

"What?" he drawled lazily. "It's just a dragon. Have you never seen one before?"

Evelyn didn't buy it.

Her eyes narrowed, studying him like she could see the cracks in his mask.

But before she could push, Velthorne spoke.

"A rare sight indeed," he mused, watching the sky with intrigue. "Few have ever laid eyes on one and lived to tell the tale."

Alistair Veyne, however, wasn't looking at the dragon.

He was looking at Damien.

And his expression said he had noticed everything.

Damien forced himself to breathe evenly, to keep up the facade.

But as they rode back toward the manor, Evelyn noticed something.

Damien didn't look at the sky again.

Not even once.

And his hands?

They never quite stopped trembling.