ELARA'S POV
The dead dragon king's roar shook the entire citadel.
I grabbed the battlements to keep from falling. All around me, living dragons shrieked in horror. Their ancient ancestors—the ones they'd mourned and buried—were now weapons controlled by Kael's evil twin brother.
"This can't be happening," I whispered.
But it was. Skeletal dragons circled overhead, their bones clicking together with each wing beat. Empty eye sockets glowed with sickly green light. Death magic poured off them like poison.
Kael's face had gone white. "Father," he breathed, staring at the massive skeleton leading the dead dragons.
"Kael." I touched his arm. "I'm sorry, but we have to fight. We have to—"
"I can't." His voice cracked. "That's my father. I watched him die protecting me. How can I destroy him again?"
"That's not your father anymore." Lyra appeared beside us, her hands already glowing with magic. "That's a puppet. A weapon. Your real father wouldn't want this."
"She's right." Theron drew his sword. "The dead deserve rest, not this. We honor them by setting them free."
Below, Malachar laughed. "What's wrong, brother? Feeling sentimental? Don't worry. You'll join father soon enough. Attack!"
The army of dead soldiers charged the citadel walls. The skeletal dragons dove.
"Shields up!" Kael finally snapped into action, his dragon king voice returning. "Archers, aim for the necromancers! If we kill the magic-users controlling them, the dead will fall!"
"Where are the necromancers?" I shouted over the chaos.
"Hidden in the army somewhere." Lyra's eyes glowed as she scanned the battlefield. "There—I see three of them. Hooded figures in the back lines."
"I'll get them." Theron shifted into his fae battle form—faster, deadlier.
"Not alone, you won't." Kael started to follow.
"No!" I grabbed his arm. "Kael, look."
The skeletal dragon king was diving straight for us. Bones rattling, magic blazing, jaws wide enough to swallow us whole.
Kael's amber eyes met mine. "Get inside. Now."
"I'm not leaving you."
"Elara—"
"I said I'm not leaving!" My marked hand burned. The dragon tamer magic inside me screamed to be used. "Maybe I can help. Maybe I can—"
"You can't control the dead." His voice was desperate. "Only the living. And these dragons are already gone."
The skeleton crashed into the battlements beside us. Stone exploded. I was thrown backward, hitting the ground hard.
When I looked up, Kael stood between me and the dead dragon king. His own father's corpse, controlled by dark magic.
"Father, please." Kael's voice broke. "If any part of you is still in there—"
The skeleton roared and attacked.
Kael shifted into dragon form barely in time. Living dragon against dead dragon. Son against father.
They collided in mid-air, and I had to look away.
"Elara!" Lyra pulled me to my feet. "We need you in the courtyard. Now."
"Why? What's happening?"
"The dead soldiers breached the gates. They're killing everyone they touch—one touch spreads the death magic like disease. We need a tamer to rally the living dragons. They're too scared to fight their own ancestors."
She was right. Looking down, I saw dragons huddled in corners, refusing to attack the skeletal dragons circling overhead. They couldn't bring themselves to destroy their own dead family members.
But I could help with that.
Maybe.
I ran down the stairs, Lyra right behind me. The courtyard was chaos. Dead soldiers fighting living ones. Fae warriors trying to hold the line. Witches throwing fire and lightning at enemies who couldn't feel pain.
And in the center of it all stood Shadowfang—the dragon I'd healed in the sanctuary. He was roaring at a skeletal dragon, but not attacking. Just roaring. Grieving.
"That's his mother," Lyra said quietly. "She died in the curse three hundred years ago."
My heart broke for him.
But we didn't have time for grief.
I ran to Shadowfang and pressed my glowing hand against his scales. "I know it hurts. I know you can't fight her. But that's not really her anymore. Your real mother is at peace. This is just bones and dark magic. And she would want you to protect the living."
Shadowfang looked at me with ancient, sad eyes.
Then he nodded.
I turned to face the other dragons. "Listen to me! I know those are your family members. Your parents, your siblings, your friends. But they're gone. They died honorably, and they deserve to rest. What Malachar did—raising them like this—it's the real insult. The real dishonor. So fight! Fight to give them peace! Fight to protect your home! Fight because that's what they would do for you!"
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Shadowfang roared.
And every living dragon answered.
They attacked the skeletal dragons with new fury. Not destroying enemies—freeing family.
I watched as Shadowfang tackled his mother's skeleton, using his weight to pin it. A witch ran forward, breaking the necromancer's spell with a blast of pure light. The skeleton crumbled to dust.
Shadowfang howled in grief and relief.
One by one, the living dragons freed their dead. It was working.
But above us, Kael was losing.
His father's skeleton was bigger, stronger, fueled by centuries of stored magic. Kael couldn't bring himself to truly fight back. Every attack was defensive. Desperate.
He was going to die.
"No." I started running toward the stairs. "No, no, no—"
"Elara, wait!" Lyra tried to grab me. "You can't help him up there!"
"Watch me!"
I climbed faster than I'd ever climbed anything. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But I kept going.
When I reached the battlements, Kael's dragon form was pinned beneath his father's skeleton. The dead dragon's jaws closed around Kael's throat.
I did the only thing I could think of.
I screamed, pouring every bit of tamer magic I had into my voice: "STOP!"
The dragon tamer command hit like thunder.
Every dragon—living and dead—froze.
Including the skeleton choking Kael.
For three seconds, perfect silence.
Then the skeletal dragon king's head turned toward me. Those empty, glowing eye sockets focused on my marked hand.
And somewhere deep in those dead bones, I felt recognition.
Not from the dark magic controlling him. From something else. Something older.
A whisper in my mind, faint as wind: *Tamer. Kin. Help.*
"Oh my God." I took a step closer. "You're still in there. The real dragon king is still trapped inside."
Kael shifted back to human form, gasping. "What?"
"Your father's soul never left." I kept my eyes on the skeleton. "Malachar didn't just raise bones. He trapped souls. Your father's been conscious this whole time, forced to watch himself attack you."
Horror filled Kael's face. "Father, I'm so sorry—"
The skeleton shuddered. Fought against the dark magic controlling it.
And I realized something terrifying.
If the dragon king's soul was still there, then all the dead dragons' souls were still there. Trapped. Suffering. Unable to break free.
We weren't just fighting dead bodies.
We were fighting prisoners.
"Lyra!" I screamed down to the courtyard. "Don't destroy the skeletons! The souls are still trapped inside! We have to free them first!"
But my warning came too late.
Below, I watched in horror as a witch blasted a skeletal dragon to dust—just like she'd done to Shadowfang's mother.
And I heard the scream.
Not from the skeleton. From somewhere between life and death.
The dragon's soul, destroyed along with its bones.
True death. Final death. No afterlife, no peace, just... gone.
"Stop!" I ran to the edge of the battlements. "Everyone stop! You're killing their souls!"
The courtyard froze.
Every warrior looked up at me in horror.
And Malachar's laughter echoed across the battlefield: "Finally figured it out, did you? Yes, little tamer. Every skeleton you destroy, you destroy the soul inside. So go ahead. Keep fighting. Keep 'freeing' them. And watch as you send an entire generation of dragon ancestors into permanent oblivion."
He raised his hand, and more skeletal dragons rose from the ground. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
"Choose carefully, brother," Malachar called to Kael. "Fight and destroy your people's souls forever. Or surrender and let me kill you quickly. Either way, I win."
Kael looked at me, his face desperate. "Elara, what do we do?"
I stared at the skeletal dragon king—at Kael's father, trapped and suffering. At all the dead dragons circling overhead, prisoners in their own bones.
And I realized there was only one solution.
One terrible, impossible solution.
"I have to go into the space between life and death," I said quietly. "I have to find where Malachar's anchoring the souls and break the connection from the inside."
"That's suicide," Lyra shouted from below. "No one comes back from that space!"
"Then I won't come back." I met Kael's eyes. "But at least your people's souls will be free."
"No." Kael grabbed my shoulders. "I won't let you. There has to be another way."
"There isn't. You know there isn't." I touched his face. "I'm the only tamer here. The only one who might survive the death magic long enough to break it. Let me do this. Let me save them."
"Elara—"
I kissed him.
Quick and desperate and full of everything I couldn't say.
Then I pulled back and smiled. "If I don't make it out, tell everyone I wasn't that bad for a fake princess."
Before he could stop me, I pressed both hands against the skeletal dragon king's chest.
And I let the death magic pull me under.
The world went black.
When I opened my eyes, I stood in a gray wasteland. Mist everywhere. Shadows moving in the distance.
And ahead of me, sitting on a throne made of bones, was the woman who'd cursed the kingdom five hundred years ago.
The dead princess.
Still here. Still powerful.
And smiling at me like she'd been waiting.
"Hello, little tamer," she said. "Welcome to my kingdom. The place where I've been building my army for five centuries. Did you really think that pathetic exorcism destroyed me?"
Behind her, I saw them.
Thousands of trapped souls. Dragons, humans, fae. All the people who'd died in the curse, imprisoned here. Suffering.
"Oh no," I whispered.
"Oh yes." The dead princess stood. "And now that you're here, you can join them. Forever."
She raised her hand.
And the trapped souls screamed my name.