The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Kaelen, watching his brothers, understanding what they were committing themselves to, made a sound.

Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh.

Something in between.

He turned his eyes to look at the chaos, taking in the destruction with that strange mixture of fear and excitement.

He turned to look at his brothers.

”Have you forgotten why they chose to be locked away in the first place?”

The question was simple.

But it carried implications that made both Draeven and Thorne go still.

The ancient ones. The dragons who had retreated into the Sanctum. They had not been imprisoned against their will. They had chosen confinement. They had asked for it. They had withdrawn from the world willingly, seeking isolation so complete that nothing could reach them.

And now the kings were proposing to enter that isolation.

To confront them.

To demand that they stop.

***

Thorne’s gaze shifted from the Sanctum to his youngest brother.

His dark eyes were steady, understanding the weight of Kaelen’s question but also understanding that it changed nothing.

”Of course I didn’t forget,” Thorne said. ”But seeing them like this,” he continued, his voice carrying a new edge, ”seeing how they’ve lost control again, we have to try to stop them.”

His dark eyes moved back to the Sanctum.

To the fire, to the destruction, to the servants still moving with desperate futility.

”We can’t just wait for their tantrums to subside while they destroy everything around us.”

He turned back to look at Kaelen ”We have to try,” Thorne said again. ”Because the alternative is unacceptable.”

Kaelen simply shrugged.

His pale eyes remained on the Sanctum.

”Good luck with that,” he said.

Draeven’s attention shifted immediately to the figure nearest him.

Captain Rhen stood at attention, his armor streaked with soot, his face flushed from the heat of the Sanctum. He had been coordinating the evacuation efforts, attempting to organize the chaos into something resembling controlled order.

Draeven’s voice cut through the noise of the courtyard like a blade.

”Clear the Sanctum, Tell the servants to evacuate. Now.”

Rhen’s expression shifted from the focused concentration of crisis management to confusion.

He took a step forward, his voice carrying genuine concern mixed with confusion.

”Your Majesty, I don’t think that is a good idea.”

His words came quickly, as if he needed to speak before he lost his nerve to contradict a king.

”The ancient ones are not....”

But Thorne cut him short. ”Do as you have been told, Rhen. Clear the Sanctum. Now.”

Captain Rhen’s mouth closed.

He understood, in that moment, that the kings had made a decision. That they had assessed the situation and determined what needed to happen. That his input, while valued, was no longer relevant to the calculation.

He bowed immediately. ”Yes, Your Majesty.”

He turned and began shouting, his voice cutting through the chaos.

”Everyone out! Evacuate the Sanctum immediately!”

His voice was a blade cutting through the confusion.

”Distance yourselves from the entrance! Now! Move!”

The effect was immediate.

The servants who had been mechanically moving buckets suddenly understood that the situation had escalated beyond their capacity to manage.

The movement accelerated.

What had been somewhat organized chaos became a flood.

Servants carrying buckets began to run. Those who had been filling buckets with water from the palace reserves abandoned their posts and rushed toward the exits. Guards began physically herding people away from the Sanctum, their movements becoming more forceful, more urgent.

Some of the servants were crying...tears streaming down faces covered in soot and ash.

Others were simply moving, their minds having shut down, their bodies operating on pure survival instinct.

Guards were helping the injured and the overcome, supporting those who had breathed too much smoke.

The flood of humanity moved like a river seeking the sea.

Above them, debris continued to fall as sections of the Sanctum’s outer wall cracked and crumbled. Stones fell from the height, some small as a fist, others large as a person. They hit the ground with sounds like thunder, creating craters in the courtyard, destroying the infrastructure of the palace bit by bit.

And the servants ran faster.

***

As the Sanctum cleared, as the courtyard gradually emptied of mortal presence, Draeven moved toward the massive doors.

His brothers fell into step beside him.

The three kings approaching the entrance to the Dragon Sanctum like knights moving toward a battlefield they could not possibly win.

As he walked, Draeven’s face began to change.

His jaw clenched. His teeth gritted. His hands curled into fists at his sides. The physical toll of holding back transformation grew with each step.

His eyes began to shift color.

The golden slowly transforming, becoming deeper, richer, more vibrant. The gold became the burning molten gold of INFERNUS. The color shifted until it was almost painful to look at, as if staring directly into a flame.

Scales began to appear.

Along his forearms, visible through his torn sleeves, golden scales catching the firelight. Across his shoulders, visible as his shirt split with the pressure of his changing form. Along his neck, creeping up toward his jaw.

The partial transformation of a king at war with his control.

His body was taut with power barely contained.

The weight of his dragon pressing against his human form, straining to break free, desperate to respond to the ancient call of his own kind.

But he held it back.

Draeven held the transformation at this incomplete state, neither fully human nor fully dragon, but something in between. A warrior caught between two forms, wielding the power of both.

Beside him, Kaelen’s transformation was subtly different.

His pale eyes shifted to the ice-blue of GLACIUS. Not warm gold but cold, sharp, crystalline blue. The color of winter, of ice, of something beautiful and deadly and utterly unconcerned with mercy.

Scales appeared across his skin in places....his jaw, his collarbone, his wrists, the pale silver-white of his dragon form showing through where his human skin had been.

His entire body seemed to cool. The temperature around him dropping by several degrees. His pale eyes blazing with an intelligence that was distinctly other, distinctly dragon.

GLACIUS was rising.