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I will not break.

“Try not to trip on your way in, Princess,” Kaelor muttered viciously as he shoved past my shoulder, his pale eyes flashing with a toxic, anticipatory grin. “The ground here is littered with better warriors than you.”

“Save your breath, Lieutenant,” I shot back, keeping my tone flat and thoroughly bored. “You're going to need it when you try to keep up.”

He sneered, turning away as the heavy iron gates groaned open, revealing what waited on the other side.

We filed through into the cavernous heart of an ancient stone amphitheater carved directly into the black basalt of the isle. The air here was dead, heavy with an unnatural pressure that made the hairs on my arms stand straight up. Sitting dead center on the floor was a shallow basin carved from pure, light-absorbing black stone.

The ritual of the Drakoryn.

“Advance,” the High Priestess commanded, her hollow voice echoing off the canyon walls. “Offer your blood to the land that bore you, or turn back now and drown in the sea.”

The candidates moved forward in a tense, silent line. One by one, they stepped up to the obsidian basin, drew their blades, sliced open their palms, and let their blood drip into the dark center. The stone swallowed the offerings with a dull, heavy hiss, drinking the crimson liquid without a single ripple.

Kaelor went three spots ahead of me. He sliced his hand with theatrical precision, sneering back over his shoulder as his blood pooled in the black stone. The basin accepted him with a faint gleam.

Then, it was my turn.

I stepped out of the ranks, the eyes of every surviving candidate burning into my back. I drew my dagger, the cold metal biting against my palm, and dragged the sharp edge cleanly across my skin.

A hot line of crimson welled instantly. I stepped up to the edge of the grand basin and held my hand over the center, letting my blood drop.

Clack.

The moment my blood hit the surface, a sharp, concussive sound cracked through the silent amphitheater—like a boulder splitting down the middle.

I froze, pulling my hand back.

A single jagged fracture bolted across the pitch-black stone. Before I could even draw a breath, the crack spiderwebbed outward with violent speed, tearing jagged lines across the entire structure in a chaotic web of white light.

Fuck.

I was never going to hear the end of this.

How did I manage to ruin another part of our culture and history.

“What did she do?” someone hissed from the ranks.

Before the question could finish dissolving in the air, the island itself woke up.

A synchronized, deafening chorus of a hundred hidden dragons erupted from the surrounding peaks—a wall of ear-splitting shrieks and roars that shook the basalt foundations right out from under our boots. Instantly, the sky above the amphitheater lit up in a blinding, chaotic storm of fire. Streams of crimson, emerald, and violet flame blazed across the cliffs, turning the freezing night into a roaring furnace.

Welp, they definitely know we're here now. And I am sure I painted a big fucking target on my back from more than just Kaelor.

We scrambled back, hands flying to our hilts as the heat washed over us.

And then, above the cacophony of the burning peaks, came a roar.

It wasn't just a sound. It was an apocalyptic shockwave that rattled our teeth and knocked candidates to their knees. It carried the ancient, terrifying weight of a true apex predator claiming its domain.

And the second it hit the canyon—every single dragon went dead silent.

Absolute, breathless quiet clamped down over Isath Nalore, the flames still licking the stone, the air frozen in a terrifying, suspended vacuum.

I said I won’t break, not that I should break the damned isle.

For one long, agonizing heartbeat, nothing moved.