The elders nervously glance between each other, their earlier confidence crumbling under my father’s predatory stare, then look back at the three of us with obvious trepidation. “It may be prudent to have Raven ascend to the throne ahead of schedule,” Zepheroth finally states, refusing to look any of us in the eyes.
“Not happening,” I say flatly, shaking my head as I move to stand beside my mother in solidarity. “I am the weapon my father will wield. I am his sword to strike with, his power to command. None will stand against us when we fight together.”
Laughing, I move to lean against my father’s shoulder, feeling his solid warmth. My wing slips naturally under his, and his curves protectively over my back—a display of unity that speaks louder than words. “My dad and I in combat together? Unstoppable. Me on a throne this young?” I shake my head decisively. “Truly a waste of raw power and energy that could be better spent protecting our people.”
I pause for effect, looking around at the assembled dragons. “I just claimed the northeastern part of this continent yesterday, expanding Blackhaven’s reach and increasing it by a third. My family now controls eighty percent of the continent.”
I look toward the northwestern part of the continent—the only section not yet under our protection. “In my time, my father’s proud bloodline will blacken the skies over this continent once more. But that time is not now.”
I reach into my battle leathers and draw out a small, wickedly sharp blade—the ceremonial knife Klauth gave me years ago for exactly this purpose. Without hesitation, I slice open my palm; the pain sharp and immediate, but welcome. Blood wells up immediately—darker than human blood, a dark crimson almost black in the fading light, carrying the weight of ancient lineage.
“With my blood, this I swear.” My voice rings out clear and strong across the gathered crowd. I hold my bleeding palm out toward the council, arm extended fully, letting the blood run down my hand to my wrist, tracking down my forearm in thick crimson rivulets that drip steadily onto the packed earth below.
Thauglor kisses my temple tenderly—a gesture of paternal pride and unconditional love that makes my throat tight—then draws his own matching blade. He slices his own palm without even flinching; the cut is deep and deliberate. He holds it out toward the council beside mine, and our blood mingles where our hands touch, the warmth of his mixing with mine in the ancient way.
“My wings and talons are my daughter’s to command. With my blood, this I swear.” His voice carries the weight of centuries, resonating with a power that makes the ground tremble slightly beneath our feet.
The blood oath hangs in the air between us and the council—unbreakable, witnessed by hundreds, sealed in the old way that cannot be undone or dismissed. I can feel the magic of it settling into my bones, binding father, and daughter in purpose and power.
When I look around at my family, I see pride shining in every face. Mom’s eyes are bright with unshed tears of joy. Corvus looks at me as if I’m the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen. Finlay’s expression carries ancient recognition—the phoenix understanding the weight of blood oaths better than most.
But it’s Klauth who steps forward, his crimson-flecked amber eyes glowing with fierce pride. He rests both hands on my shoulders, heedless of the blood still dripping from my palm. “I am so proud you remembered the old ways, precious one. The stories I told you as a hatchling—you kept them alive inyour heart.” His voice cracks with emotion. “You’re keeping our traditions alive when so many have forgotten them. This...” he gestures to our bleeding palms, to the blood-sealed oath, “this is what it means to be a dragon. To bind yourself in blood and purpose, to speak oaths that cannot be broken.”
He pulls me into a fierce hug, and I feel Dad Thauglor’s hand on my back, creating a circle of ancient power and family love.
Two ancient blood oaths sworn before the King and Queen, witnessed by the entire gathering—and much to the visible dismay of the council members, whose faces have gone pale with the realization of what they’re truly dealing with. They thought having one stubborn black dragon was bad enough.
Now there are two of us, bound by blood and purpose and the old ways that give our oaths weight, even the council cannot dismiss.
We’re going to protect this continent from all threats, or we’ll burn the world trying. And honestly? I’m perfectly fine with either outcome.
