The War Room was more full of people than it had been in years, crowded with members of both the Occultus Draconem and soldiers from Anzino’s Royal Guard. It was incredibly noisy, and Kenric sighed.

He stood at the head of the table with Noira, raising his hand to silence them. It didn’t take long—Kenric’s presence alone was enough to captivate any audience.

“All right,” he said when the room was finally quiet. “I’ve brought you all here because it’s time to make our move against Agni. As you know, he knows we’re here, and he’s trying to finish us off. He’s attempted to form alliances with the surrounding kingdoms, which have thankfully been unsuccessful, and we know have the aid of King Nero and the Anzinian Army.”

"King Nero has also sent word to the other kingdoms," Noira stated. "He's trying to rally more forces against Agni."

“Excuse my language,” one of the Draconem members said, standing up to address Kenric, “but what the fuck is he doing here?”

He pointed behind Kenric, where Soren was standing against the wall, chewing his fingernails. There were a few murmurs among the group, some nodding in agreement or looking on curiously.

“You got a problem?” Soren asked, narrowing his eyes at the man.

“You bet I do!” The Draconem member took a threatening step in Soren’s direction, but another one grabbed him by the arm to stop him.

“Soren has worked directly with King Agni for the last six years,” Kenric explained. “His knowledge of Cadmus and the castle is vital information in this fight. Like it or not, we need him.”

“He’s a traitor,” another Draconem said, standing up from his own seat. It was Riordan, the Draconian that had attacked Soren in his cell. “He doesn’t deserve to be here. He should be rotting in the dungeons until this war is over!”

There were a few murmurs of agreement, and Soren just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Enough,” Kenric said firmly. “We need his help with this plan. If we’re going to make a move on Cadmus, we need as much information about the Castle and the surrounding area as possible.”

“Your love for him is clouding your judgement,” Riordan said. “He’s a fucking traitor and he deserves to be executed. Get him out of this meeting!”

“He’s not going anywhere!” Kenric snapped, his eyes turning red with anger, and Riordan and the rest of the room fell quiet. “He’s still a prisoner here, and he’ll go back to his cell when we’re done! Right now, he has information that we need. So, unless you want to get yourself killed, you’ll be quiet and listen to the plan!”

Riordan lowered his gaze and sat back down without another word, and Kenric let out a long breath to calm himself. He should have known there would be uproar when it came to having Soren at the meeting, but it wasn’t like they had a choice.

In a way, Riordan was right. Soren was the one responsible for killing the Draconem squads that were collecting information on Cadmus. For his sake, Kenric hoped Soren had something valuable for them to use.

“Well, now,” Noira said, letting out a small, nervous laugh. “What do you need from us? The Anzinian Army is gathering as we speak. They’re increasing numbers along the border of Cadmus, and the rest of the army should be a few days away from here. With any luck, the other armies will join them on their way here.”

“We need to know when and where the Enforcers are focused, and where they intend to strike. I don’t know if or when they’ll be coming back to Draconia, but since Soren and his squad didn’t return, I’m sure it’ll be sooner rather than later.”

“Great,” one of the Draconem women said sarcastically, and the chatter in the room started to pick up again. “So, he’s leading more Enforcers right to our doorstep. What a great idea, to keep a prisoner of war that might attract more enemies. Really smart.”

“What about the Dragon Prince? Where is he? What good is all of this going to do if he’s not here?”

“How can we even trust the information Soren gives? What if he’s leading us into a trap?”

“Enough!” Kenric’s voice boomed through the room, and everyone fell silent once again. He sighed, rubbing his brow. “Can we please just get through one meeting without everyone arguing for once? Cadmus could be on our doorstep by sunrise—we need to prepare.”

“Hold on.” Soren stepped forward, pushing Kenric aside. He looked over the group, and let out a long breath. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? I’ve already told Kenric, I’m fully prepared to be executed when this is all over. The position I’m currently in is no one’s fault but my own.”

Soren’s voice started to shake, and tears welled up in his eyes while he spoke.

“I was young, and stupid, and addicted to Draíocht. I ended up in the bedchamber of an officer of the Cadmian Army, and he tortured me half to death, dangling Draíocht in front of me in exchange for whatever he wanted, and I gave it all to him.”

“Soren,” Kenric said, “you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he said, and tears ran freely down his face. “He was going to kill me. He was using Draíocht to torture me, and then when he was finished with me, he was going to let me die. King Agni was the one who found me there, and pulled me out of that situation. He made sure I owed my life to him, and he forced me to work against Draconia in exchange for letting me live and giving me Draíocht.”

The room was painfully silent. Some people lowered their gaze, others listened on with looks of horror. The only sound in the room was Soren’s sobbing as he covered his face with his hand.

“I can’t take back all the terrible things the led me to this point,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. “I can’t give you back all the lives that I’ve taken from you, or change the fact that I betrayed all of you for some stupid healing magic. There’s nothing that I can do or say, and I don’t expect anyone to forgive me or trust me, but I am truly sorry, and I'll do whatever I can to make things right.”

There were a few sniffles from the crowd, a couple people here and there crying along with Soren. Others didn’t look convinced… Riordan certainly didn’t, but he didn’t look as angry anymore either. Soren wiped his face with his sleeve and turned away from them.

“Put me back in my cell,” he said, keeping his gaze lowered as he approached Kenric. “Please. I can’t do this. I’ll tell you everything I know about Agni and Cadmus, just get me out of this room.”

***

Theron and Blaise were quiet as they packed up, getting ready to travel back to Draconia. It was a long trip, and at that point, they had no idea what was going on in the kingdom.

“It’s too early for this shit,” Theron complained with a yawn, then went to the sink to wash his face. His movements were slow and stiff, and he tried to hide it, but Blaise could tell he was in a lot of pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “It’s my fault you got hurt like that. I shoulda been the one fightin’ Orion, not you.”

“Ah, this ain’t nothin’,” Theron told him, rubbing his shoulder. “It’ll heal quick enough. Besides, you ain’t gotta take no lives if you ain’t ready, ‘kay? I know we’re in a war, but there ain’t no reason for ya to be havin’ blood on yer hands when you got us ‘round.”

They had to walk through the slums again to get to the outskirts of Oorlog, where they were going to pay a carriage to take them to the border of Draconia. Blaise stuck close to Theron, keeping his gaze down.

A few of the people on the streets looked at them curiously. They both must have been a mess, covered in bandages and fresh wounds, but no one said anything.

A terrifying stranger stepped out of a dark alley, standing in Theron’s way. When he tried to go around, he blocked him again. He was bigger than Theron, which frightened Blaise, because Theron was in no means a small man.

“The hell ya think yer doin’?” Theron asked, “Get the hell outta my way.”

“Hear me out for a second, will ya?” The man smirked, and gestured for Theron to follow him. When Theron didn’t move, he rolled his eyes and grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him into the alley, away from curious eyes.

“Get ya hands off o’ me!” Theron yanked his arm free with a hiss of pain. There were bandages where the man had grabbed him, and a bit of fresh blood seeped through. “What the fuck do ya want?”

“Theron, let’s just get outta here,” Blaise pleaded, but Theron just pushed him behind him protectively and hushed him.

“Where y’all goin’? Looks like ya already been to Hell and back,” the stranger said, eyeing Blaise and Theron up and down. “Y’all wanna try some of the new Draíocht that’s been goin’ ‘round? It'll do wonders for them wounds.”

“What the fuck is new Draíocht?”

“Check it out.” He held up a handful of syringes, but it didn’t look like regular Draíocht. The stuff Blaise had seen in the past was a blue-green color. The medicine in the syringes they were being offered was dark blue. “It’s got the same stuff as regular Draíocht, but it’s got some new stuff in it too.”

“We ain’t interested,” Theron said firmly, turning away from the man. “I dunno where ya got that, but that ain’t Draíocht. C’mon Blaise.”

“Hey, come on.” The stranger blocked the alley so Theron and Blaise couldn’t leave. “Ya know, you look real familiar kid. Ain’t I seen you ‘round here a while back?”

“No.”

“Oh, yeah, I have.” The man laughed, and then he bit his lip, eyeing Theron up and down. “Yer a lot older than ya were, but I remember that scar on ya face. Yer the little Dragon kid that used to belong to that old slumlord! You loved gettin’ Draíocht. You used to spend days at my place, beggin’ me at my feet for it.”

Blaise’s eyes went wide, and Theron’s face and ears went red.

“I don’t remember none o’ that,” Theron said quietly, lowering his gaze. “That was a long time ago, and I ain’t into it no more.”

The man took a threatening step forward, and Theron pushed Blaise aside, knocking him to the ground as he was backed up against a wall. He bared his fangs at the stranger, who laughed softly and ran his fingers across Theron’s jaw.

“Yer still cute as ever. Maybe even cuter now,” he said with a laugh. Theron scowled, but he was visibly trembling. “Tell ya what? I’m gonna give ya this dose for free, for old time’s sake, huh?”

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” Theron demanded, slapping his hand away. “I don’t want it! I already told ya, I ain’t into it no more, and—”

He was cut off as the man wrapped his arm around his back, pulling him against his body as he kissed him, and Theron’s eyes went wide with shock. At the same time, he plunged one of the syringes into the side of Theron’s neck, injecting the full dose of the strange blue Draíocht. He continued to kiss him while Theron struggled against him, until the syringe was completely empty.

“See ya ‘round, kid,” the man said, wiping his saliva off of Theron’s bottom lip before he left them alone in the alley.

Theron didn’t move. His eyes wide, and his entire body trembling. He reached up with a shaky hand and pressed it to his neck where he’d been injected with the Draíocht.

Blaise got up, rubbing his back where he’d hit the ground, then went to Theron. He still had his back against the wall, staring wide-eyed at the space where the man had been a moment ago.

“Theron?” Blaise reached out gingerly and touched his arm. “You all right?”

Theron’s gaze moved slowly to Blaise, his eyes still wide. He was pale, and sweat ran down the side of his face, his breath coming out in small huffs. He looked terrified, and it made Blaise’s heart pound anxiously.

“I ain’t had that much Draíocht in a real long time,” he said, barely louder than a whisper, “and I think I know what’s in it.”

“What?”

Theron doubled over with a gasp, clutching his neck so hard that his fingernails cut into skin and drew blood.

While he struggled against the effects of the Draíocht, he couldn’t control his body, and partially transformed into his Dragon form. His teeth became fangs and his fingernails became long claws, his eyes glowing a harsh shade of red. He fell to his knees, clawing at his neck and digging his nails into the dirt.

Blaise watched in horror. What could he do?

He knelt down beside him and placed his hand on his back. Theron was drenched in sweat, his whole body going tense while he gasped in pain.

“Theron, can ya hear me? It’s gonna be okay. Yer okay.”

He grabbed Blaise’s arm for support, and Blaise hissed in pain as he dug his claws into his skin. Theron was stuck somewhere between Dragon and Human form, struggling to fight against it.

“Don’t move too much,” Blaise said quietly. “Try keepin’ it from spreadin’. Is there any way to get it outta yer system?”

Draíocht can’t be neutralized unless the person’s own healing magic is stronger, but he said he hasn’t had that much in a long time. He’s going to have to just let it run its course, and he’s going to suffer.

“What the hell was in that syringe?” Blaise questioned.

Theron doubled over in pain again, struggling to catch his breath. The Draiocht flooded his veins like fire.

It had the same effects as the regular stuff, giving him that dizzy, lightheaded feeling he’d craved so much when he was younger. It was more intense than he remembered though—he hadn’t gotten that high off of it since he lived in Oorlog.

There was something more, though. It overpowered the healing magic and wracked his body with intense pain, causing all his muscles to seize up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and his heart was pounding frantically. He clutched his stomach and vomited.

“Maybe we should go back to the inn and stay another day,” Blaise said, “so ya can rest and recover.”

“No,” Theron choked out, using Blaise’s arm for support to pull himself into an upright position. “Help me up. Let’s get the fuck outta this city.”

They took a few back-alley routes that Theron could recall, with Blaise supporting him under his arm. He had to stop often, vomiting or collapsing from the pain, and the few people that were on the streets didn’t even give him a second glance. Was it so commonplace there that no one even blinked at someone overdosing on Draíocht?

Once they got a carriage, Theron lay on one of the benches, curled up and hugging his own body. He was pale and sweaty, and his breath came out in quick, labored huffs, his body trembling and convulsing. He tossed and turned for a while, moaning pain, but eventually passed out.

Blaise kept a close eye on him the whole time. He knew there was nothing he could do for Theron, so he just made sure he was okay. He checked his temperature, pulse, and breathing periodically to make sure that nothing else happened on their way to Draconia.

“Is he gonne be okay?” Blaise asked. Theron looked like he was half-dead. All the color had drained from his face, and he was sweaty, wearing a pained expression as he slept.

I don’t know. Zane’s voice sounded grim, and Blaise’s heart sank. Since he said he’s still addicted, it depends on just how much he’s used to getting regularly. If it affects him too greatly, he could relapse into more intense addiction, and set back his recovery by years.

Blaise sighed, holding his head in his hands. He hated the thought of someone trying so hard to get away from the thing that made their life miserable, only to have it forced back on them.

“He don’t deserve this shit,” Blaise said. “I don’t wanna be involved in none o’ this no more. I hate seein’ people sufferin’. It’s gotta stop.”

The suffering will never end until the fighting ends between the Humans and Dragons.

Theron continued to suffer throughout the night. His whole body would seize up and he’d cry out in pain before passing out again. They had to stop a few times for him to get out and vomit, too. The sleep he managed to get wasn’t restful, and he was sweating the whole time.

***

Nero stayed holed up in the library for days, surrounded by stacks of books and unorganized piles of papers. Human anatomy, Draconian anatomy, blood magic, healing magic… he read everything he could get his hands on.

How had Zane and Blaise been fused with each other? How could he possibly separate them? Even if he could manage to get them back into their own bodies, would either of them even survive the ordeal? It was a miracle that Blaise was even still alive in the first place.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, running his hand through his hair.

“Sire?” One of the library assistants approached him tentatively. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he said, not even looking up from his book. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve joined the war between Draconia and Cadmus, and I need to figure out a way to restore the Dragon Prince to his throne. I don’t suppose you have any medical training or any hidden knowledge about Dragons.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said, shaking her head, “but I do know of a mage who has met the Dragon Prince.”

The woman lived in a small apartment above a mystic shop, set back from the shopping district of Anzino. She was in the shop, behind the counter stirring some sort of concoction over the clay stove. It smelled both sweet and bitter, and Nero eyed it cautiously, wondering what kind of potions the woman was making.

There was a small bell on the door that chimed when the door shut behind them, and the woman turned her attention to them. She had long, delicate fingers, and purple eyes that glowed in the dim light of the shop.

“A Draconian?” Nero questioned.

“Oh, Vidya,” the woman’s eyes lit up when she saw the librarian. “It’s been a long time since you’ve visited. And what an honor! You’ve brought the King of Anzino with you.”

The woman bowed to the king, then went back to stirring her potion.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“We need your help, Saloma,” Vidya said. “King Nero is looking for information about the Dragon Prince, and the techniques used to transfer his soul into another body. I figured if anyone would know anything about it, it would be you.”

The woman had stopped stirring her potion, her shoulders going tense, and she laughed nervously.

“And if I have that kind of knowledge, what then? Am I in trouble?”

“No, of course not! Why would you be?”

“You were involved,” Nero stated in a very matter-of-fact tone, “weren’t you?”

Saloma sighed, placing her spoon down on the counter beside the stove. She turned to look at Nero, and there was a strange, determined look on her face, almost angry.

“I was,” she told him. “Is it a crime to want to save my kingdom from absolute ruin? I did my part to try to give Prince Zane a fighting chance at taking back Draconia from Agni’s filthy hands. I had to flee the kingdom when the host went out of control and destroyed almost all of our research. The Enforcers would have found me and had me Cleansed. I would do it all again if I had the chance. I’m not sorry for what I’ve done.”

“Well, here’s your chance to do it again,” Nero said, and Saloma’s eyes went wide. “I need your help. Assuming that we bring this all to an end, Prince Zane will need to be returned to his own body. I have some medical knowledge, but I can’t do the kind of magic that could return his soul to it’s proper place, and I’ll need all the help I can get to try to keep his host alive in the process.”

Saloma was quiet, a deep, thoughtful look in her eyes. Would she agree to help?

“I have no one else to turn to,” Nero said, stepping forward. He knelt on the floor in front of the woman, whose eyes went wide with shock. “My brother died protecting that boy… the least I can do is give him a fighting chance to live without Zane sustaining him anymore. I am putting aside my pride as the king and begging for your help.”

“Of course I’ll help,” Saloma said with a sigh. “I thought when the host lost control, that we’d lost all hope of ever taking back our kingdom. If Prince Zane is still out there, ready to assume the throne, then I’ll make sure we make that happen.”

“Thank you,” Nero said, getting up off the floor, and Saloma shook her head.

“Don’t thank me ‘til it’s done,” she told him. “I’m sure I can get Zane back into his body, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to do anything for the Human boy. The longer he stays connected to the Dragon Prince, the slimmer his chances of survival become. I’m sure you’re aware that Dragon blood is like poison to Humans, so to have Zane’s blood in his body for so long… the damage may be irreparable.”

“Well... we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let's just end this war."