The wind slapped against my face as I took the curve sharp and fast, my fingers clenched around the throttle.
The engine of my bike growled beneath me, a low steady hum that drowned out everything else—every thought, every doubt, every bitter taste the past decided to cough up.
The road blurred into a smear of black under the tires, a road slicing through woods thick with summer green. I hadn't made this drive in over three years. Not since they cast me out.
The Voss Estate wasn't a house. It was a fortress.
White stone walls, towered peaks, fire-forged gates with ancient runes etched in deep. Even the damn birds didn't fly too close. The whole place screamed legacy, like a monument carved out of pride and power—and for me, exile.
The gate hissed open before I even reached it.
They were expecting me.
I slowed the bike, pulled into the main courtyard, and killed the engine. Gravel crunched under my boots as I stepped off.
The air here smelled different—cleaner, colder. Like the mountain itself had breath.
Two guards approached. Both wore long black tunics with the Voss crest across the chest—an open flame rising from a dragon's claw.
"Lucian Voss," the taller one said, his tone flat. "You're to go directly to the Hall."
I gave a nod and walked through, jaw clenched tight. The halls hadn't changed. Still filled with flickering sconces, black stone floors that echoed every footstep, portraits of long-dead dragons in their human forms staring down like they still had authority.
I hated this place.
And yet, every step toward the council chamber, my blood pumped a little harder. Every muscle in me remembered what it meant to walk these halls with purpose.
What it meant to wear the name Voss like armor instead of a curse.
The double doors to the council chamber stood open.
Inside, they were already waiting.
The five of them, seated in a perfect crescent, the table between them shaped like a jagged wing. Each lord wore ceremonial black with the sigils of their houses—light catching on the stitching, like scales. And at the center, my father.
Eleric Voss. Lord of Flame.
His face was carved in stone—sharp, clean lines, no room for softness. His gaze met mine with the weight of fire behind it.
"Lucian," he said. "Come forward."
I stepped in, boots thudding against the stone, the heat in the room prickling at the back of my neck. My father didn't look older. He looked eternal. Like the flames that burned behind his eyes had never dimmed.
To his right, sat Lord Kael of the Storms—silver hair swept back like a hurricane had run its fingers through it. Next to him, the Lady of Shadows, Iryna, her skin pale as smoke and eyes unreadable.
Then came Goram of the Earth Clan, all bulk and beard, fingers like tree roots gripping the edge of the table. Last, Veyric of Ice, who looked like he hadn't blinked since winter.
They all stared at me like I was some rogue fire that hadn't gone out yet.
"You were called here because something stirs," Eleric said. "A force the five of us cannot afford to ignore."
I kept my hands at my sides. "I assumed it wasn't a family reunion."
Kael gave a small smirk. "Still has that tongue, I see."
Iryna didn't react. Her fingers drummed the table in a slow, measured rhythm.
My father continued. "There was a flare of energy—somewhere in the town you live in. The same time the fire outbreak happened. Our sentries felt it. Raw, untamed and powerful. Unlike anything we've seen in years."
Veyric spoke next. "This wasn't just a dragon rising. This was a Solarian pulse."
I blinked. "That's impossible. Solarians died out—"
"They were hunted to extinction," Goram corrected. "But extinction isn't always complete."
I felt the floor shift beneath me, not physically—but in that way where the world you thought you understood suddenly changed.
"You're saying… one's alive?"
"We don't know," my father admitted. "But if it is a Solarian—if the prophecy is true—then this dragon is the strongest of us all. Born of golden flame."
A beat of silence followed.
I exhaled, slow. "And you want me to find them."
Eleric leaned forward. "You're already close. You were there when the first spike of energy was felt. You've mingled with humans. You've seen what we haven't. This… proximity makes you our best chance."
I laughed once. Dry. Bitter. "You mean I'm expendable."
Iryna's voice came, smooth and quiet like shadow itself. "Call it what you want. You're the one who broke our laws. Now, you have a chance to redeem yourself."
"Assuming I even want to."
My father stood then.
The temperature in the room ticked up. Flames curled at the base of the sconces, flickering higher.
"You came, didn't you? You want this."
I swallowed hard.
He wasn't wrong.
Part of me did want this. To prove them all wrong. To earn back what I lost. To feel like I belonged to something again—something more than oil-stained garages and half-empty bottles of regret.
"Let's say I find this dragon," I said. "Then what?"
"Then you report back to us," Eleric said. "We will decide the next steps."
"And if I refuse?"
"You won't," Kael cut in. "Because if you do, your exile becomes permanent."
"You stay an outcast," Goram added. "No home. No name. No house."
"And if I succeed?"
Eleric's gaze locked with mine.
"If you succeed… you regain your birthright."
The words hit harder than I expected. Like someone opened a door I'd boarded shut and let in all the things I'd tried to forget.
My room. My crest. The forge halls. The training grounds where I first learned to breathe fire and control it.
All of it. Mine again.
I could barely speak. "You're serious?"
My father nodded once. "You bring us the Solarian, and you come home."
The room pulsed with silence. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
I turned that over in my head, every corner of it ruff.
There was only one problem. I was already suspecting a particular dragon.
Nova. Even though I believe she used flames like ours, I wasn't there to confirm it.
But they didn't know. Not yet anyway. I tried to mask my features so that none of them will be able to pickup on my emotions.
I was standing in front of the most powerful dragons after all.
And if they found out first, she wouldn't be seen as a girl who needed help—she'd be a weapon. A prophecy. A prize.
Or worse, a threat.
I needed time.
I needed to know if I'm going to protect her or hand her over.
"Alright," I said. "I'll find the dragon."
My father's eyes narrowed. "You swear it?"
"I swear."
"Then go," he said. "And Lucian—"
I paused at the door, turning my head slightly.
"Don't forget, there's no room for failure. You already know the consequences."