Page 47 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

Azareth raised a hand and Thorne’s voice vanished. The Immortal turned toward him, silent and cold as winter. He stepped forward, each movement graceful and exact, like time itself obeyed him. Reaching Thorne, he pressed a hand to his chest.

Thorne’s body seized and he convulsed, his mouth open in a scream that made no sound. With a sickening crack that rocketed through the room, the dragon sigil on his armor split.

And then—

With a thrust of his hand, Azareth ripped .

Thorne collapsed to his knees, a terrible cry torn from his throat. Blood poured from his mouth.

In the Immortal’s grasp, two glowing heart scales pulsed—one dark, one radiant.

Azareth looked down at them, then turned. He crossed the room without a word and stopped in front of me. I was still kneeling, my breathing shallow and sweat dripping down my face. He placed the radiant scale against my chest.

Pain lanced through me like a spear of fire. I arched back, screaming. It felt like I was being torn open and re-stitched with stars. My veins burned. My mark blazed white-hot.

And then it was done.

The heart scale was mine again.

My chest heaving, I collapsed to the floor.

Azareth met my gaze with eyes that were fathomless, ancient. There was something… familiar about him. A connection I didn’t understand. A knowing, like his gaze had always watched over me.

But he didn’t leave.

He turned back to Thorne, who groaned as he crawled toward a dropped blade.

I stood, now whole, with power humming through me, and strode to my brother.

Thorne looked up, rage still burning in his eyes. “You stole everything,” he rasped.

“No,” I said. “You lost it.”

He weakly swung the foraged blade. I caught his arm and drove my blade into his chest.

He gasped, his eyes widening in shock as blood spilled from his lips.

Then he went still.

I let him fall.

Silence reigned.

Azareth watched me. Still not speaking. Just… watching.

Malachar stepped forward once more. “The bloodline is fulfilled.”

My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But Azareth gave nothing away—only a lingering glance, filled with a thousand answers left unsaid.

I had questions. So many. But they would have to wait.

Cat rushed to me, her eyes wide and glassy with relief. I took her hand.

Behind us, Azareth stood still as stone.

But he didn’t vanish.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke as the final echoes of war whispered through the scorched stones of the throne room.

Yet amidst it all, Azareth stood untouched—a figure of divine stillness.

Cat tightly gripped my hand, her touch grounding me when everything else felt like it might drift away.

Malachar cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Azareth,” he said, his voice low and reverent, as though speaking too loudly might fracture the moment, “has agreed to speak.”

As Azareth turned his unsettling gaze to me, those obsidian eyes pinned me in place.

He moved with glacial grace, stepping closer until only an arm's length separated us.

Up close, I could feel it—the sheer weight of him.

Not physical, but something deeper. As if the world tilted slightly in his direction.

“You wish to know why,” he said.

His voice was low, resonant. It echoed inside my bones more than my ears. I slowly nodded, unable to summon any arrogance or defiance.

Azareth turned his uncanny eyes to Cat. “And you,” he murmured. “The girl born of two worlds.”

Cat defiantly tilted her chin. She didn't flinch, but I could feel the tension ripple through her.

He turned back to me. “You were chosen because you are the balance. The forgotten son. The shadow among flame.”

Uncle Bai stood off to the side with his arms folded, his expression unreadable. Malachar's head was bowed. Only Cat looked unyielding, though I knew her heart was racing.

“You were born not from a royal womb, but from something greater,” Azareth continued. “The former emperor was not your father.”

The words hit like a blow even though I’d already known that man wasn’t my father.

My breath caught. “Then who was?”

Azareth's gaze didn't waver. “I am.”

The silence shattered me.

When I staggered back a step, Cat's grip tightened on my hand. Uncle Bai gasped. Even Malachar's eyes widened in shock.

I tried to speak, but the words tangled.

Azareth continued. “Long ago, I walked among mortals. A mistake, perhaps. But from that mistake came you. Your mother was brave. Beautiful. Mortal, to some extent. A dragon shifter.”

My mind reeled. I had no memories of my mother.

“When the time came, I knew your existence would alter the course of this world. So I marked you. The twin flame was never a curse. It was a calling.”

“And Cat?” I managed, my voice hoarse.

Azareth looked at her again. For the first time, something almost human touched his features. A flicker of admiration.

“Because she chose it,” he said. “Many are given fate, but few dare to defy it. She is your flame. Your echo. And together, you were always meant to ignite change. I only sent her the dream… it was her decision to follow the path.”

Cat blinked, her throat working as she tried to absorb the weight of his revelations. “So we were just... pawns?”

Azareth shook his head. “Never pawns. You were forged, not forced. Every choice you made brought you here. This world survives because of what you built from your pain.”

I swallowed hard. “Why now? Why appear to me only at the end of things?”

Azareth looked up at the scorched ceiling, the cracks in the stained glass, and the bodies left in our wake. “Because you weren’t ready before, but now you are. And because the scales had to be righted. Thorne had two heart scales. The balance was broken.”

Uncle Bai stepped forward, finally finding his voice. “And now? What happens next?”

Azareth looked at me. “Now you must decide what kind of ruler you will be.”

My hands clenched. “I never wanted the throne.”

“And that,” Azareth said quietly, “is exactly why it should be yours.”

Cat turned to me, her eyes soft. “Whatever you choose, you won't do it alone.”

Azareth began to step back. The glow around him shimmered like heat rising from stone.

“Wait!” I said quickly. “Are you staying?”

He paused, his gaze filled with the weight of the world. “I cannot. My place is not here.”

“If I don’t want to be emperor, will Elaria be punished again?” I hesitantly asked.

He tilted his head and smiled. “No.”

I sighed in relief, my gaze riveted to his form as he turned to leave. My chest twisted. I didn’t know what I’d expected—a heartfelt father-son reunion? A lifetime of answers? No. That didn’t appear to be his way.

But just before he vanished into a flash of light, he turned back one last time.

“When the stars call again,” he said, “you will know.”

And then he was gone.

Malachar exhaled like he hadn’t breathed in hours.

Silence followed.

I turned to Cat to see that her eyes mirrored mine: dazed and determined, swimming with a thousand unanswered questions.

But we had survived, and for now, that was enough.

Before either of us could speak, the downpour came and thunder rolled across the land.

It was time.