The fortress-ship tore through the clouds like a silver beast, glowing faintly under the crescent moon. Beneath it, the world stretched in silence — mountains reduced to scars of stone, forests to whispers of green smoke.
Inside, Rayzen sat in the containment cell. His wrists still bore the faint mark where the runes had tried to bind him — but failed.
Daemonos' voice echoed low in his mind, full of restrained rage:
"They dare to cage the blood of the first flame."
Rayzen replied quietly, "We play along… until we see who holds the real chains."
Aiden leaned against the opposite wall, trying to keep the mood light but failing.
"Rayzen," he said nervously, "do you think they'll actually… use that binding ritual on you?"
Rayzen glanced at the faintly glowing sigils around the door.
"Not if I can help it."
The silence between them deepened — heavy, uncertain.
And then—
A metallic clang echoed from above.
The ship trembled.
Daemonos growled.
"Something approaches."
The Arrival
As dawn broke, the fortress descended through golden clouds — revealing the Imperial Capital of Eryndor.
The city was impossibly vast — endless spires, floating sanctums, and dragon statues that looked alive under sunlight. Great runic circuits pulsed through the streets like veins of molten gold.
Rayzen had never seen anything so magnificent… or so suffocating.
The sky was filled with flying beasts, armored dragons, and winged soldiers patrolling in perfect formation.
Aiden whispered in awe, "It's beautiful."
Rayzen's voice stayed flat.
"It's a cage painted in gold."
Daemonos rumbled softly in agreement.
"Every empire that worships dragons… has killed them first."
They landed atop a colossal citadel — the Drakon Palace.
General Thorne's voice boomed as the soldiers lined up.
"By order of His Majesty, Crownkeeper Remiel, bring the Tamer before the throne."
Chains of light coiled around Rayzen's arms again — not because he resisted, but because they wanted to remind him who was in control.
Or who thought they were.
The Throne of Fire
The grand hall of Eryndor's palace was unlike anything Rayzen had ever seen — towering ceilings carved from obsidian, dragon bones arranged like cathedral arches, and a throne of pure red flame.
On it sat Emperor Remiel.
He wasn't old — maybe in his forties — but his eyes gleamed like molten suns, ancient and knowing. His presence filled the room with a crushing pressure that bent weaker soldiers to their knees.
Beside him stood a woman cloaked in silver scales — her gaze cold, analytical.
The Royal Beast Seer, Arcthera.
Thorne knelt. "Your Majesty, we bring the one who formed an unsanctioned pact with a Primordial-class dragon."
Remiel's voice was calm — too calm.
"Raise your head, boy."
Rayzen did.
Their eyes met — and for a second, lightning whispered between their souls.
"You are the one who calls himself Crown-Bearer?"
Rayzen hesitated, then nodded. "The name is Rayzen."
Remiel smiled thinly. "Ah… the Broken Tamer. The world speaks of you already."
The Emperor's Offer
Remiel rose from his throne, his crimson cloak trailing like fire.
"You possess something ancient — something even the Empire once lost. A Primordial Dragon bond."
He paused, circling Rayzen like a predator.
"Do you even know what that means?"
Rayzen stayed silent.
Remiel's smile grew colder.
"It means you are part of a bloodline that should have died ages ago."
The room's air dropped in temperature.
Daemonos snarled within Rayzen's soul, ready to burst forth.
"He knows."
Remiel raised a hand. "Calm your beast. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made it here alive."
He turned to Arcthera. "Begin the binding ritual."
She bowed slightly — and began to chant.
The Ritual of Chains
The floor beneath Rayzen flared with runes — circling him, crawling up his body like glowing thorns.
Light seared his skin. Daemonos roared in his mind, struggling against invisible force.
"They are rewriting your soul-link! Fight it, hatchling!"
Pain exploded through Rayzen's veins.
He screamed — lightning bursting from his body in violent waves.
The palace shook. Pillars cracked.
Aiden, restrained at the edge of the hall, shouted, "STOP! You're killing him!"
But no one listened.
Remiel's expression remained serene, almost reverent.
"The blood of kings does not obey easily… but even dragons kneel to fire."
A Voice in the Storm
Just when Rayzen's strength began to falter — when his body felt like it would tear apart — the mysterious voice returned.
Calm, powerful, and ancient.
"Heir of Dragons… remember who you are."
A golden sigil flared in Rayzen's chest — the same one from the encrypted message earlier.
Light burst outward — slicing through the ritual circle.
Arcthera gasped. "Impossible—he's resisting a royal seal!"
Rayzen's eyes snapped open — glowing with twin storms of purple and white.
"You don't control me."
The runes shattered.
Daemonos erupted behind him in spectral form — a black dragon larger than the throne itself, eyes blazing with divine fury.
"WHO DARES TO BIND THE CROWN'S BLOOD?"
The palace guards were thrown backward like leaves in a hurricane.
Even Remiel took a step back, his calm expression flickering.
Rayzen stood at the center — blood dripping from his lip, his aura wild and divine.
The Emperor's Revelation
Remiel raised his hand slowly, signaling the guards to stop.
Then… he smiled again.
"Good. I had to be sure."
Rayzen frowned. "Sure of what?"
Remiel descended the throne steps.
"That the heir was real."
The words froze time itself.
Rayzen blinked, unsure he heard right.
"The… heir?"
Remiel's voice softened — almost respectful now.
"The last true descendant of Aethryon, the Dragon King. The one the world erased. You are his bloodline's echo… and my insurance."
A thousand questions screamed through Rayzen's mind.
Aiden stared, speechless.
Daemonos rumbled with disbelief.
"So that's why they hunt you… you carry royal dragon blood."
Rayzen's voice was hoarse.
"Then what do you want from me?"
Remiel's gaze darkened.
"To rebuild what was lost.
A world ruled by dragons and men — bound by one crown."
He stepped closer, his words sharp as blades.
"But if you refuse, Rayzen Valen… the world will burn again."
The Crown's Shadow
Guards retreated, the ritual chamber quieting.
Rayzen looked at the Emperor — and in his eyes, saw not power, but obsession.
Remiel wasn't trying to rule the world.
He was trying to revive something dead — something divine — no matter the cost.
Aiden whispered, trembling, "Rayzen… what do we do?"
Rayzen stared up at the burning throne.
The air hummed with dragonfire and destiny.
"We survive.
Then… we take back the sky."
Daemonos' voice thundered with pride:
"Spoken like a true king."
And somewhere deep beneath the capital, ancient chains began to stir — as if answering the call of the heir who had finally awakened.
END OF CHAPTER 10