Marcus' POV
The East Tower smelled like death and mold.
They shoved me into a cell—bare stone walls, one window with bars, a bed that looked older than me. Both versions of me.
The door slammed. A lock clicked.
I was alone.
I moved to the window immediately. Three stories up. Courtyard below. Guards patrolling. No easy way down.
In Chicago, I'd escaped worse. A warehouse fire. A rival gang's basement. Even FBI custody once. But I'd had tools then. Weapons. People on the outside.
Here, I had nothing.
Except maybe Dante.
I felt along the walls, searching for weaknesses. Loose stones. Hidden passages. Anything.
My fingers found scratches on the wall near the bed. Words carved into stone:
"They lie. Trust no one. The Covenant sees all. —L.T."
L.T.
Lord Thorne. Isadora's father.
He'd been in this exact cell before they executed him.
My chest tightened. Six years ago, a good man died here because he refused to bow to corruption. And now I was following in his footsteps.
Footsteps echoed outside. The lock clicked again.
I spun, fists ready.
Dante slipped inside, quick and quiet. He carried a tray of food.
"Relax," he whispered. "I'm on evening rotation. We have three minutes before the next guard checks."
I grabbed his arm. "You got my message to Isadora?"
"Yeah. She's working on it." He set down the tray. Under the bread, he'd hidden a small knife. "Best I could do. Greymont's watching the armory."
I palmed the knife. Barely longer than my finger, but sharp. "It'll work."
"The plan is midnight. Lady Thorne will create a distraction. I'll unlock your door. We get you out through the servant passages."
"And then?"
"Then you disappear. Lowtown. We have safe houses where nobles never go."
I shook my head. "Running makes me look guilty. Proves I'm unstable."
"Staying gets you killed!"
"Maybe. But I didn't survive thirty years by running from fights." I met his eyes. "I need to know something. This morning, when we talked. Why did you really agree to help me?"
Dante's jaw clenched. "You know why. You said you'd make Greymont pay for what his son did to my sister."
"That's revenge. But you could've gotten revenge yourself. Knife in the dark. 'Accident' during training." I stepped closer. "You're risking your life for a prince you don't know. Why?"
He looked away. "You... you talked to me like I mattered. Like I wasn't just a Lowtown rat playing soldier." His voice cracked. "My whole life, nobles looked through me. Treated me like furniture. But you asked my name. Asked about my family. Listened when I answered."
Something twisted in my chest. Aurelius's memories again. The real prince did that. Saw people others ignored.
"I'm not—" I started.
"I know you're different. I don't know how or why." Dante looked back at me. "But you gave me something nobody else ever did. Hope. That maybe things could change. That maybe the people at the top might actually give a damn about people at the bottom."
"Dante—"
"So yeah, I'm risking my life. Because if there's even a chance you're real, that you mean what you say, then it's worth it." He moved toward the door. "Two minutes till the next check. Eat the food. You'll need strength."
"Wait. Does Isadora know you're here?"
He smiled. "She planned it. Timed the guard rotations herself." His smile faded. "She's scary smart, that one. And she's been fighting the Covenant alone for six years. Don't let her down."
"I won't."
He slipped out. The lock clicked again.
I sat on the bed, eating the bread, mind racing.
Midnight. Five hours from now.
I used the time to plan. Escape routes. Backup plans. What to do if things went wrong.
But mostly, I thought about Dante's words. About hope.
In Chicago, I never gave anyone hope. I gave them money, protection, power. Things you could hold. Hope was for suckers.
But here, hope might be the most valuable thing I had.
The hours crawled by. Outside, the sun set. Guards changed rotation. Footsteps. Voices. Normal sounds.
Then, at five minutes to midnight, everything went wrong.
The door burst open. Not Dante. Six guards, swords drawn.
Lord Greymont walked in behind them, smiling.
"Did you really think we didn't know?" he asked pleasantly. "Guard Dante's been reporting to us since this morning. Every word you said. Every plan you made."
My stomach dropped.
Dante betrayed me. It was a setup from the start.
"The distraction at midnight. Lady Thorne waiting with escape routes. All of it." Greymont circled me like a shark. "We let you think you had allies. Let you plan. And now we have proof of your treasonous conspiracy."
"Where's Isadora?" The words came out harsh.
"Being arrested as we speak. Along with your 'loyal' guard captain." Greymont's smile widened. "Both will face trial for plotting against the crown. You, however, won't live to see it."
He nodded to the guards.
They advanced, swords raised.
I gripped the hidden knife, but six against one? Even in my prime, those were bad odds.
This was it. End of the line. Again.
Then the window exploded inward.
Glass shattered everywhere. A figure swung through on a rope, landing between me and the guards.
Isadora. Breathing hard. Holding two swords.
"Did you really think," she panted, "that I'd trust Dante completely without testing him first?"
Greymont's face went purple. "Impossible! He reported everything—"
"Everything I told him to report." Isadora tossed me one sword. "The midnight plan was fake. The real plan is now."
More ropes dropped through the window. Three people slid down—young, armed, dressed in black.
"Lowtown fighters," Isadora said. "Dante's real friends. The ones he didn't tell you about."
One of the fighters grinned at Greymont. "Surprise."
The guard captain—the real one loyal to Greymont—shouted orders. Steel clashed against steel.
Chaos erupted.
I'd never used a sword before. But fighting is fighting. I blocked, dodged, used the blade like a long knife.
One guard fell. Then another.
Isadora fought like a dancer—graceful, deadly, never wasting movement. She'd done this before.
"The rope!" she yelled. "Go!"
"What about you?"
"I'll hold them! Go!"
I grabbed the rope, started climbing. Below, Greymont screamed orders.
I was halfway up when I heard Isadora cry out.
I looked down. A guard had her pinned, sword at her throat.
Greymont smiled up at me. "Come down, or she dies."
Every instinct screamed to keep climbing. Save myself. That's what I did in Chicago—survive first, everything else second.
But Aurelius's memories flooded my mind. Her laugh. Her grey eyes. Her trust.
And Dante's words: Don't let her down.
I dropped back through the window, landing hard.
"Let her go."
"Drop your sword first."
I dropped it.
The guard released Isadora, shoving her toward the other fighters.
Greymont's men surrounded me. Six swords at my throat.
"Brave," Greymont said. "And stupid. But mostly stupid."
"Marcus, no!" Isadora struggled against the fighters holding her back.
"Get her out," I told them. "That's an order."
"We don't take orders from—"
"Do it!" Isadora's voice broke. "He saved me. I have to—"
"You have to live," I said quietly, meeting her eyes. "Finish what your father started. What Aurelius died for. Promise me."
Tears ran down her face. "I promise."
The fighters dragged her to the window. Up the rope. Gone.
Greymont laughed. "How noble. The criminal playing hero."
"Yeah, well." I smiled. "Old habits die hard."
He raised his sword. "Any last words?"
"Just one." I looked him dead in the eye. "When she burns your Covenant to the ground, I hope you live long enough to see it coming."
His smile vanished.
The sword came down.
Then everything went white.
Not pain. Not death.
Light. Blinding. Hot.
A voice—ancient, powerful, not human—spoke inside my head:
"The Dragon Tamer bloodline recognizes sacrifice. The bond awakens. Choose: ascend or perish."
What?
Heat erupted from my chest. Golden light poured from my hands.
The guards flew backward, hitting walls.
Greymont stumbled, shielding his eyes. "What is this?"
I looked down. My hands glowed like they were on fire. But there was no pain.
The voice spoke again:
"You carry two souls. The prince. The wolf. Both willing to die for others. Rare. Worthy. The old magic answers."
Power flooded through me. Not mine. Older. Something that lived in this body before Aurelius, before me.
Something that had been sleeping.
Until now.
The light faded. I stood there, breathing hard.
Greymont and his guards stared, terrified.
"What... what are you?" Greymont whispered.
I didn't know.
But whatever just woke up inside me, it changed everything.