There’s only one rule in our kingdom: don’t steal from dragons.
So naturally, I broke it before breakfast.
In my defense, it was very shiny. And humming. And floating. And beneath it was a pedestal that practically screamed "Touch me, I dare you," which—frankly—is just rude. You can’t dangle magic like that in front of a professional thief and expect restraint.
Also, I was bored.
“Lyra,” Fizz, my goblin sidekick, hissed from the hallway, clutching a bag of enchanted smoke bombs like a nervous squirrel. “This is a terrible idea. That’s the Vault of Flames. You know who owns that vault? The actual dragon god-king of Emberhold—”
“Former god-king,” I corrected, balancing on the edge of the pedestal. “He retired.”
“He retired after vaporizing six people and turning a cathedral into glass.”
“Exactly. He’s tired.”
Fizz groaned and dragged a hand down his face, “You're going to get us both killed.”
I smirked, and said, “Well if we do die, at least we're going to die in style.”
“You mean die after trying to steal some random artifact that you don't even know about from the most powerful being in the world?” He asked, scowling.
“That's what I said.”
I reached out. The orb pulsed once, golden light flaring, and the humming went up a note like it was laughing at me.
I grabbed it.
The world didn’t explode.
But something did snap.
Magic pulsed like a thunderclap. My vision blurred. The orb flared bright—then dimmed.
Then a voice slithered into my head. Smooth. Sharp. British-accented, because of course it was.
“You absolute imbecile.”
I blinked. “...Fizz? Did you just insult me telepathically in an unfairly smooth British accent?”
“I am not your goblin friend. I am Raethis of the Eternal Flame, the First and Final Ember, the—wait, why can I hear you in my head? What did you do?”
I looked at the orb in my hand.
It blinked.
“Oh,” I said, grinning evilly. “This is going to be fun.”
“Lyra,” Fizz whispered, already halfway down the hallway, “you’re glowing.”
I held up the orb. “No, this is glowing. I’m just standing near it and looking legendary.”
“Legendary?” Fizz squeaked. “You just mentally dialed a dragon.”
“A dragon,” a voice replied, slow and silken like velvet draped over a dagger, “who is now awake, exceptionally unimpressed, and contemplating which lava spell leaves the most artistic burn pattern.”
Fizz clutched his bag of smoke bombs like it was a teddy bear. “Did that come from—”
“The orb?” I grinned. “Yup. We’re bonded now. Telepathy. Very elite.”
“Bonded,” the voice drawled. “How charming. Perhaps I should send you a fruit basket when I arrive. Assuming I leave your lungs intact.”
Fizz whimpered.
I was having the time of my life.
“I assume I’m speaking to the one and only Raethis,” I said grandly, “First Flame of Emberhold, Ember Daddy of Infinite Doom, etcetera?”
“Raethis will do.”
A pause. Then: “Though if you insist on adding titles, ‘Your Future Problem’ is surprisingly accurate.”
Fizz was panicking. I was thrilled.
“You’re enjoying this,” he muttered.
“Fizz,” I said, cradling the orb like it was a kitten dipped in moonlight, “he sounds like he models for villain calendars. Of course I’m enjoying this.”
“And yet,” Raethis sighed in my head, “you continue to flirt with death while holding my soul in your grubby little thief-hands. Remarkable.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a compliment.”
“Still taking it.”
“You’ll return the orb immediately. Before I arrive and demonstrate what ‘smoldering ruin’ looks like in three dimensions.”
“Wait—are you flying here right now?”
“I am a dragon, darling. I do dramatic entrances.”
Fizz groaned. “I just packed a lunch. I don’t want to be incinerated before I even open it.”
“You think he’ll wait for us to eat?” I asked, then grinned. “We should probably run.”
We burst through the creaky door of my hideout—half a rickety shack, half a glorified fire hazard. Fizz immediately started pacing like a squirrel on espresso, clutching his bag of smoke bombs like they were a lifeline.
“Lyra, this is catastrophic.” He wrung his hands so hard I thought they’d snap. “You just stole from a dragon god-king. Who’s apparently stuck in dragon form and mad enough to turn Emberhold into molten glass.”
I plopped the orb on the table and gave it a little poke. It shimmered, and Raethis’s voice floated into my head, dripping with disdain:
“Really? You’re poking me? I’m literally your doom overlord.”
“Relax, Raethis.” I grinned. “I’m just checking if you’ll sparkle or explode. So far, ten out of ten for sparkle.”
Fizz gave me a look that screamed you’re gonna get us all roasted alive.
“You have no survival instincts,” he muttered.
“Pfft. Survival is boring. Besides, I’ve got you and this lovely glowing ball of trouble.” I tapped the orb again.
“Lovely? I’m legendary. And if you keep poking me, I’ll consider reassigning your role from ‘thief’ to ‘toast.’”
I laughed. “See? You’re funny when you’re annoyed.”
Fizz groaned and started throwing together a smoke bomb, muttering, “If we don’t die from dragon fire, I’m betting on your stupidity to get us killed in the next ten seconds.”
I spun the orb in my hands, the humming rising like a heartbeat.
“Okay, Raethis,” I said, “how badly do you want your shiny back? And what kind of dramatic entrance should I expect when you arrive?”
“I prefer a grand display of fiery devastation, but I’m flexible. Mostly, I want my soul back before you cause irreparable chaos.”
“Noted.” I grinned, already planning how to push his buttons some more.
Fizz sighed, pacing faster. “We have, what, minutes before the dragon apocalypse?”
“Minutes are for cowards.” I tucked the orb into my jacket pocket. “Let’s make this fun.”
The door slammed open with a crack that rattled the plaster.
A cloaked figure stood there like the storm just walked in wearing arrogance as a cloak. His eyes gleamed cold, calculating—no doubt the kind that never blink before deciding who dies.
“I hear you have something that belongs to me,” he said, voice smooth as poisoned silk.
I smiled, the grin of someone who’s made terrible decisions before breakfast. “Only thing I belong to is chaos.”
With a flick of his wrist, shadows spilled from his fingers, twisting into tendrils that slithered across the floor like hungry snakes.
Fizz screamed, diving behind the table, pulling me down with him.
I yelped and said, "I don't think that's Reathis."
“Stay low!” he hissed, fumbling with his bag of enchanted smoke bombs.
I swiped the orb from my pocket, feeling its warm pulse against my palm.
The shadows struck, striking hard and fast—too fast. I barely dodged a tendril that scorched the edge of my cloak.
“Pfft. Overdramatic much?” I muttered.
Fizz lit a smoke bomb, tossing it like a grenade. It exploded in a cloud of violet mist, momentarily blinding the figure.
“Now!” I yelled, lunging forward with a wild punch.
My fist sailed through empty air. He vanished, moving like liquid shadow, reappearing behind me.
A chilling voice whispered in my mind, sharp and amused: “Impressive. For a mere mortal.”
I spun around just in time to catch a shadow whip aimed at my neck. I ducked, scraping my elbow on the wall.
Fizz was struggling, coughing in the smoke. “This is bad, Lyra. Like, really bad.”
I shrugged, ignoring the sting. “Bad is fun.”
Another tendril whipped past, knocking the orb from my hand. It skittered across the floor, humming frantically.
“Nope. Not letting that happen.” I dove after it, scrambling on hands and knees.
“Stop!” the voice snapped. “That orb is my life.”
I snatched it up, clutching it to my chest.
The cloaked man reappeared, eyes blazing with fury. “You will regret this.”
Before he could strike again, a deafening roar split the air—an ancient, earth-shaking sound that made the walls tremble and sent the very ground beneath us trembling like a drumbeat.
Through the shattered window, a colossal shadow blotted out the sky. Massive wings, spanning wider than the tallest towers in Emberhold, unfurled with effortless grace, casting a living eclipse over the room.
Raethis descended, scales shimmering like molten gold forged in the heart of a dying star. Each scale caught the flickering firelight, gleaming with an almost unnatural radiance—too perfect, too deliberate, like the work of an artist who never settled for anything less than divine.
His eyes—sharp, intelligent, and burning with a cold, knowing fire—locked onto the intruder with a predator’s focus. There was centuries of wisdom and arrogance packed into that gaze, a silent warning that this was no beast to be trifled with.
Flames curled lazily around his massive jaws, licking the air with heat so intense it made the hairs on my arms stand on end. His claws dug into the stone floor, leaving molten gouges that hissed and steamed.
With a slow, disdainful growl that rumbled through the walls like distant thunder, Raethis spoke in that silky, venom-laced voice that echoed in my mind:
“You insolent pest. You dare bring your petty shadow games to my domain?”
The villain’s confident stance faltered as he realized the true storm had arrived.
Fizz whispered hoarsely, “Finally.”
Raethis stormed in, flames licking his massive frame, wings unfurling with thunderous power.
With a furious blast, he incinerated the shadow tendrils, leaving the cloaked man gasping on the scorched floor.
But the villain was far from finished. He surged forward with a desperate, wild spell, shadows writhing like living chains.
“Hold him!” I yelled.
Fizz grabbed a smoke bomb and flung it at the villain’s feet. Purple smoke exploded, obscuring vision and disorienting our foe.
Raethis growled and lunged, claws swiping through the air, scattering shadows like leaves in a storm.
I darted forward, hurling the orb like a grenade. It pulsed gold, exploding in a wave of light that sent the villain sprawling.
Breathing hard, Raethis lowered his massive head to my ear and purred, “Teamwork makes the chaos work.”
I smirked. “Tell me you don’t want me to be your ‘official thief/consultant’ now.”
He chuckled, a deep, dangerous sound. “Let’s just say, I’m very interested in what you can do.”
He looked at the orb in my hand, and faster than light he swiped it with a claw. The air shimmered around Raethis as golden scales melted away, folding into themselves like liquid metal. His massive wings retracted smoothly, tucking behind him with a grace that made the entire room seem smaller — somehow less worthy.
Where the dragon had stood now stood a man. Not just any man. Unnaturally handsome, with sharp cheekbones carved like a masterpiece, eyes gleaming with that maddening mix of intelligence and arrogance. Muscles that looked sculpted by a god who clearly didn’t care about fair play. He wore a tailored dark coat that hugged his frame like it was made just for him — because it was.
He smiled, a slow, knowing curl of lips that promised trouble and maybe a little fun. “Lyra,” he said, voice smooth as silk but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass, “you’ve caused quite the... mess.”
I crossed my arms, unphased. “You’re easier on the eyes than I expected. And that voice? Practically criminal.”
He chuckled again. “Flattery. Bold. I like it. But don’t get comfortable. I’m not here to make friends.”
He stepped closer, and the room seemed to lean in with him. “Here’s the deal. Help me recover my lost weapon–the one with the ability to demolish cities in seconds–and I’ll make it worth your while. Official thief, spy, consultant — pick your title. You’ll have access, power, and the kind of chaos you’re clearly craving.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fancy. What’s the catch?”
His grin widened, just a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “No catch. Just loyalty. And maybe a bit of... discretion. Oh, and if you betray me—well, I am a dragon. You know the consequences.”
Fizz, still catching his breath, muttered, “You sure this is a good idea?”
I glanced between them—the smug, impossibly handsome dragon-man and my jittery partner. “Since when has ‘good idea’ ever stopped me?”
Raethis extended his hand. “So, Lyra. Shall we start this... partnership?”
I smirked and took it. “Let’s set the world on fire.”