────────────⋆˖☽ ​​𝑨 𝑯𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ☾˖⋆────────────

A warm, honeyed glow bled from the arched doorway, a silent summons to a part of me I’d long since buried. My mind screamed trap, but my body betrayed me, each step forward a surrender. With my heart hammering against my ribs, I stood on the threshold. I paused, forcing a slow, steadying breath through my lips before stepping into the light.

The warmth washed over me, a physical weight that settled on my shoulders. The air was thick, heavy with the cloying sweetness of incense—sandalwood and something ancient, like burnt sugar—that smoldered in a bronze brazier at the chamber’s center. Far above, chandeliers of wrought iron and flickering candles cast a dance of long, skeletal shadows. But it was the walls that stole my breath. Every inch, from the polished stone floor to the vaulted, soot-kissed ceiling, was a canvas of murals depicting an impossible history: the intertwined lives of dragons and men.

Disgusting, my mind spat. Fairy tales to justify their monstrous existence. How could this possibly change anything?

“We will begin here,” a voice stated, pulling me from my reverie.

I turned. Emeric stood to my left, his profile stark in the candlelight. His attention was utterly captured by a single, vast mural: two dragon silhouettes, etched in black against the blazing orb of a red moon and its smaller, silver companion.

I dragged my feet closer, forcing myself to look. A familiar, bitter disgust rose in my throat. “What is all this?” I demanded, my voice harsher than I intended.

“This is the history of our world,” Emeric replied, his tone low and resonant in the hallowed silence. “A history you’ve been taught to despise, but one you will witness nonetheless.”

“And what makes you think any of it is true?” I shot back. “It looks like a collection of lies, polished by generations.”

His head snapped toward me, his green eyes flashing like flint and steel. “As opposed to the lies the people have fed you since birth? I suggest you listen. Whether you choose to believe is your decision. I offered you the truth, against my better judgment. Do not make me regret it.”

He had a point. Listening cost me nothing, and it wouldn’t change the cold, hard facts I already knew. My mind was forged steel, unbendable.

“Fine,” I said, the word barely a whisper. “I’ll listen.”

A flicker of grim satisfaction touched his lips before vanishing. “You know the story of the Cursed Moon, of course. But what of the other two? Do you know what they signify?”

I gave a curt shake of my head. They were lights in the sky, nothing more.

“The crimson moon,” he said, gesturing with a long-fingered hand, “is the fire of fate, the vessel of our deepest desires. And the smaller one…” He pointed to the silver orb that seemed to hum with a gentle light. “That is the lantern of memory, of guidance.”

My eyes snagged on the tiny, careless flecks of white paint surrounding the silver moon. “And the dots?”

“Stars,” he said simply.

“They don’t look very impressive,” I muttered. “Just smudges.”

He ignored me. “The two dragons beneath them are the First. It is said their love was the spark that gave our world true hope.” He pressed his palm flat against the cool, painted stone, closing his eyes as if listening to a secret song within the rock. A strange serenity smoothed the hard lines of his face, and the sight was so alien, so unsettling, that I took an involuntary step back.

His eyes opened, and he began to move along the wall, but stopped mid-stride. A heavy sigh escaped him. When he turned, his gaze locked onto the roughspun ropes binding my wrists. He stalked toward me, his shadow devouring the space between us until he stood so close the air hitched in my lungs. My mind raced, my eyes darting for an escape that didn’t exist. This was it. A trick to lower my guard.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a cool irony. He let out a short, humorless chuckle at my rigid posture. “Very well. Since you are clearly incapable of relaxing, let us make a bargain. I will remove these ropes if you give me your word you will not run.”

“Run where?” I retorted, nodding my head at the sealed chamber. “And why the sudden charity?”

“Consider it a moment of respect. This is a sacred place. But if you betray that respect…” A wicked smile twisted his lips. He leaned in, his voice a low whisper that brushed against the shell of my ear, sending a tremor down my spine. “I will bind you with something far more permanent than rope.”

The threat, specific and cold, sent a fresh wave of horror through me. He could kill me without a second thought, and my body would become just another forgotten story in this hall of lies. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of my fear.

“I am no match for you,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

“I’m glad we agree.” His expression smoothed back into its detached mask. His fingers worked efficiently at the knots, his knuckles grazing my skin—a touch like ice and fire—until the ropes fell away. He held one up. “This goes back on before we leave.”

My mouth opened to protest, but the words died on my tongue.

“That was not a debate,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. I clamped my mouth shut, rubbing my chafed wrists.

“Now,” he said, turning back to the murals. “Let us continue.”

He gestured to the next panel. “Humans once feared dragons,” Emeric said, shooting me a pointed look. “As they do now.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. Just listen. Don’t give him a reason.

The mural showed a man with brilliant red hair standing before a towering, shadowed dragon. “This was the first,” Emeric continued. “The first patriarch of the Aurelian line. He possessed the courage to see beyond the scales and claws, and to befriend an ancient dragon.”

I had to hold back a cynical laugh. Making friends with monsters.

“He showed humanity that dragons were not mindless beasts of destruction, but intelligent, sentient creatures who were simply… misunderstood.”

I rolled my eyes and turned away from him, letting my gaze drift down the wall. If dragons were just ‘misunderstood,’ then why not every other monster that had been slain for the safety of humankind? I kept the thought locked safely behind my teeth.

The next panel depicted the two shadowed dragons soaring over a thriving land, where humans worked fields bursting with beautiful crops. “The dragons blessed the land,” Emeric’s voice softened, laced with a wistful sorrow. “They worked in harmony with humans. For a time, there was peace.” 

He spoke of a harmonious peace, but the incense suddenly seemed cloying, the sickly-sweet smell of a lie trying to cover the stench of rot. My stomach churned. Peace. They knew nothing of the word.

His voice grew cold again. “Until humanity’s greed outweighed its gratitude. They betrayed them. Hunted them, slaughtered them for power, and broke the balance of the world.”

He pointed to the next image: the three moons hanging in the sky, but this time the Cursed Moon pulsed with a sickly, malevolent glow. “And so the curse fell upon this world, a punishment for that original sin. In the chaos that followed, the Aurelian family created this island as a sanctuary. We welcomed any who would live in peace with the dragons and honor the old ways.”

“If the betrayal caused the curse, why is the mural so vague?” I challenged, pointing. “It shows peace, and then it shows the curse. Where’s the rest of it? Or do you not actually know how your precious balance was broken?”

​”There are stories. Fragments. But no one knows what truly transpired. Not even Zarina.”

​”What does that dragon have to do with this?” I snapped.

He pointed back to the twin silhouettes. “She is one of those. One of the First.” He spoke the name like a prayer, but the word broke in his throat. The mask of command shattered. The stark candlelight carved new, deep lines of sorrow around his eyes, and a shudder ran through his powerful frame. He looked, in that instant, utterly broken.

​The sight was so jarringly human it stole the retort from my lips. I looked away, unsettled, my own certainty wavering for a half-second like a guttering flame. It’s a trick, I reminded myself.

​”If she’s so ancient,” I pressed, my voice hard again, “why wouldn’t she know?”

“Perhaps she was not present to witness the final betrayal of Enkarthos.”

I crossed my arms, a wall of defiance. It was all speculation and faith. Nothing he had shown me was proof of anything. So this is it? His grand plan is to make me believe the word of a monster that isn’t even here? The sheer absurdity of it ripped a laugh from my throat—a short, sharp, broken sound. A wave of vertigo washed over me, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

​Emeric turned fully toward me, his expression grim. “We chose to protect the innocent when the Cursed Moon rises. This island keeps them safe. Attacks here are rare… from monsters, at least.”

​I met his grim expression not with anger, but with a profound emptiness. I gave a slow, deliberate shake of my head, a final dismissal of everything he’d said. “This changes nothing.” My voice was quiet, but it held the unyielding weight of granite. I turned away, seeking an escape from the suffocating air of the chamber.

​That’s when I saw it. On the far wall, set apart from the others, was a mural that seemed to thrum with a silent power. The dragon depicted there was not a mere shadow; it was rendered in breathtaking, terrifying detail. Its scales were a thousand shades of emerald and jade, its underbelly the color of sun-bleached sand. But it was the eyes that held me captive—two points of burning, crimson light that were not paint, but living embers smoldering with ancient intelligence.

My feet moved without my command, drawing me closer. Emeric’s voice faded to a dull hum. The cold stone floor seemed to soften under my boots, becoming a carpet of lush, phantom grass. A ghostly breeze, smelling of pine and distant rain, whispered through my hair. My hand rose as if guided by another’s will, my fingers stretching out until they pressed against the wall.

The stone was not cold. It was a shock—a jolt of ice and fire that shot up my arm. My gaze locked with the glowing red eyes of Enkarthos.

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𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓼. 𝓐𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽!