Page 15 of The Dragon 1 (Tokyo Empire #1)
Chapter ten
The One Who Burned Cold
Korin
The world had already begun to burn when he saw her.
Cinder clouds choked the sky above Hareef—last of the free mountain cities. Towers once tipped in silver now sagged beneath the weight of flame and fear. Ash swirled where snow once blanketed the peaks.
Men screamed.
Horns wailed.
The king’s banner—a sapphire moon over white silk—was torn from its spire and devoured by smoke.
And through the firestorm, he flew.
Korin.
His dragon body eclipsed the stars. His vast wings tore through the heavens, each beat rippling with power. His shadow stretched across entire valleys; a god cast in scales—burnished gold fused with obsidian black. Night and fire locked in battle along his spine.
Die! All of you!
He rushed toward the king’s army.
Arrows tore through the darkness toward him—black fletching, tips dipped in poison and prayer.
He didn’t dodge those arrows.
He didn’t need to.
The arrows struck his hide and shattered like glass on stone.
Nothing ever pierced his scales.
Nothing could ever slow his beast.
They had tried, these soldiers, but they had also failed.
Poor fools.
Entire battalions launched their final arrows into the sky one more time and when the wind carried their weapons away like leaves from a dying tree, they understood.
There was no stopping the dragon.
Korin opened his jaws and fire poured out—ancient, endless, divine. The front line vanished in a single breath. Screams died as molten light swallowed them whole.
Stone buckled beneath his roar.
Watchtowers cracked, shattered, and slid into the city like broken teeth.
And gods above, the joy of it.
Chaos sang in his blood.
He was rage.
He was vengeance.
He was the reckoning promised to this land for daring to defy him. Buildings crumbled under his wingspan. The very wind warped beneath his heat.
Who else should die before I conquer?
He flew in arcs, circling the city—a starved predator watching the last heartbeat of cornered prey.
Below him, another battalion rushed forward.
He took a deep breath and then let out a blast of flames.
In seconds, the battalion was ashes and ember.
And then. . .
Korin saw her.
Amid the ruin, she stood in the city’s central square—barefoot, radiant, and unmoved.
She had long black hair. Her dark brown skin glowed like tempered bronze in the light of the collapsing towers, her dress was a whisper of white linen swaying in the heated wind.
What is this?
She wasn’t running away like the others.
She wasn’t screaming in horror.
She just watched him.
Smoke curled around her like it wanted to consume her—and yet it didn’t touch her at all. The flames bent, twisted, obeyed , veering away from her figure as if she were crowned in something no fire dared to test.
Hmmm.
A pulse shimmered behind her back.
Power.
Old power.
And her eyes. . .
Stars help him.
Her eyes glowed silver—unblinking, unreadable. She stared at him like she had seen this moment in a vision long ago. Like she’d already mourned this night. . .and still chose to face it.
Very interesting.
Korin slowed in the dark sky, wings fanning wide, slowing the blaze.
The wind quieted around him.
He just remained above her absolutely confused and entranced all at the same time.
What sort of woman glares at a dragon as it burns her city?
To his utter shock, she raised her hands.
What is she about to do?
Faster than thought.
Faster than breath.
A pulse of cold surged through the air, blinding and sudden—like moonlight made into a blade.
Next, power leapt from her palms in a twin arc of luminous frost, not white, but something more ancient—silver veined with shimmering sapphire—ice carved from the bones of forgotten gods.
She has power?!
And that very power of hers hit him square in his beast’s chest.
For the first time in centuries. . .his fire died.
What?!
The blaze caught in his throat dimmed to smoke. Heat retreated from his limbs.
The inferno within him—unmatched, divine, eternal—shuddered, strangled by something cleaner, colder, purer.
What is this?
No one had ever cooled him before.
Not in all his wars.
Not in all his lifetimes.
Not like this .
The sensation wasn’t just cold. It was clarity. A bloom of quiet in the storm. Her power slid under his scales and coiled around his ribcage.
Hmmm.
His pulse erupted—wild, molten, shamefully needy. His body betrayed him, trembling in places it had never stirred.
Not from battle.
Not from fear.
But from her .
With insanity, the beastly part of him snarled for more.
More of her .
Very interesting.
A ridiculous, maddening thought. But there it was, echoing in the place where his beast’s heart lived.
Who is this?
He dipped lower in the air, just a hair, wings adjusting, talons glinting. He leaned into the feeling, wanting to feel that cool , that awe , that. . . woman .
As if she heard him. . .
She hit him again.
Another blast!
Stronger this time.
The cold danced over his massive body. It was silk dipped in snow. It didn’t just numb his beast—it slid inside him, sinking teeth into his flame, turning inferno to frost.
Oh my.
His wings spasmed.
His vision flickered.
But his length—long and typically ignored in this monstrous form, responded—aching hard against his scaled belly, straining to feel more of her cold power.
Oh.
The throb in his length grew deep and anchored. Something ancient within him had been shaken awake.
Then, his beast’s length began to swell, brushing against his underbelly with weight and heat, demanding to be acknowledged—not by him, but by her .
His energy started to wane.
What is this? And. . .she’s draining me. I must. . .leave. . .
Korin roared, a sound torn between fury and wonder.
Soon, he surged upward, claws slicing through cloud.
He had to go.
Had to retreat .
Because if he didn’t—if she struck again—this woman, this force , might be the end of him.
And yet. . .when he got further away from her striking zone. . .he hesitated.
I should go, but I can’t. . .
He hovered in the clouds, panting smoke and watching her below.
Her hands were still raised.
Her chin lifted.
That silver gaze never faltered.
Stars above, she’s the only one who could kill me.
He saw it now deep within her.
Not just power.
Not just magic.
But will—a strength older than kings.
She had come to end him if she must—and she would not miss again .
She blasted more of her power into the sky.
Korin dodged it, veering left, wind howling in his wake.
Close, little one, but it will never be that easy to kill me.
He turned his massive head and grinned at her. It was a full display of wicked ivory fangs, each longer than a big man’s arm.
He did not grin at her in mockery.
It was in profound admiration.
She inched back in horror.
Perhaps, his dragon’s grin was a bit off-putting. He didn’t know. He typically never smiled in this form.
What is her name?
His wings slowed, beating the air. He hovered just above the city square, a shadow forged in gold and black flame.
And then—his length twitched.
Heavy.
Primal.
Aroused.
Once again, not in centuries had it stirred like this.
Not in battle.
Not in bloodlust.
But her?
She had pulled fire from his breath. Shoved want into his loins.
He shifted midair, rising higher, tilting his massive body just enough to reveal the full weight of his desire—thick, scaled, and unmistakably hard.
Let her see.
Let her know what she’d awakened in the heart of a god.
Below, she flinched.
Eyes widened.
Her lips parted as if to speak but no words followed.
Do you know what you are doing to me, little one?
Still—her hands did not drop. Her power did not fade. Her silver gaze held steady even through the shock. Even through the heat now rising between them like a forbidden storm…
Korin’s grin widened, fangs gleaming like curved blades.
She had seen his hunger.
Gods help him. . .
She hadn’t looked away.
Mmmm.
He lowered his massive body back to proper position, begun to breathe her in, and realized that her scent was a perfume unlike any he’d known.
Wild jasmine and stormwater.
Hot stone and forbidden fruit.
The smell hit his beast with a hunger so deep it rattled through his heavy bones.
Though her hands did not lower, though her magic hummed like a threat on the air. . .
He saw it.
A flicker of fear in her eyes.
Still, she did not run.
She did not flee.
She did not submit.
Yes. I like her.
He roared once more, not in challenge. . .but in promise.
I will see you again.
Then he fled into the dark— wings tearing across the moonlit sky. Flame curled in his throat.
He would definitely return.
He had to.
But next time, it would not be as a dragon.
No.
She’d seen the beast.
Next, she would meet the man.
His human form was one he hadn’t worn in decades; A form he’d buried to become legend.
But tonight had changed everything because he had forgotten what it felt like to be curious .
To wonder—not about war, not about conquest—but about someone .
What was her name? Her voice? Did she always smell this way? And where did she get such great power?
He was a god of flame, born for vengeance, carved from fury. And yet now, flying in the sky, he had shifted to a boy with a crush.
It made him feel confused.
Heart-warningly lost.
Nervously uncertain.
But not weak.
Just very. . . human .
It terrified him.
Because somewhere in the ashes of Hareef stood a woman who had taken his fire, silenced his rage, and stared down death like it owed her something.
And gods help him. . .
He didn’t think he would survive another day if he didn’t at least know her name.