Page 49 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

Two silhouettes emerge from the smoke—strong, tall men rushing across the battlefield, lifting people up.

Raumen and Caspian. Moments later, two smaller figures approach, checking the injured before signaling the two Defenders to get off the field.

That’s Sam, with Hayden at his side. They’re safe.

At least they’re safe. But I don’t know for how long.

Sobs drift from behind a large, chipped boulder inches away, half-buried in the ground.

I glance up, no sign of the dragon, and sprint toward the sound.

A small figure is crouched before me, curled in on himself like a wounded creature.

The cries—thin, broken, young—slice through the silence.

His face is smeared with soot and ash, pale streaks cutting through where tears have traced their path.

Theo.

What the hell is he doing here, so close to the Redsnout? He’s kneeling near a man, his torso completely torn open, blood seeping in every direction.

Shit.

I run up to Theo, placing my hand on his shoulders.

“What do I do?” he says, blood matting his hair and running down his brow and cheeks. “What do I do!? He’s dying! He’s dying—what do I do!?” I glance at the soldier, gurgling noises spilling from his mouth as he fights for his life.

“You have to keep yourself calm, okay?”

His eyes are hollow as he stares into the blood-soaked sand, slowly absorbing the brutal reality before him. He swallows hard, as if choking back a gag, then finally whispers, “How do I save him?”

“You don’t,” I say. His eyes lock on mine—sorrowful, scared, glistening with tears. His lower lip trembles as the last shards of humanity break through. Emotions—something he will now need to shut off in order to survive. The child inside him is dying.

I catch sight of Sam, sprinting past with a bag of bandages, two medics in tow as they drag other wounded soldiers from the field.

“Take Theo!” I yell out before several more medics arrive. I grunt in frustration, running my hand over my damp hair, suppressing a scream. Theo doesn’t hesitate and lets the two women drag him off the battlefield.

Sam yells out from behind a large boulder, searching for shelter. He wants to know if I’m okay. I slash my hand to the side, signaling I’m fine. I don’t need help—he needs to get to the others.

We need to regroup. I scour the sky, the smoke and dust too thick to see anything. I don’t know where it is.

Another roar. Another clicking noise. Another firebreath from the beast. It’s to the right of me.

Where Nida is.

I grab my bow without looking and I sprint toward the chaos.

Dust swirls around the battlefield, choking the air.

Stones scatter in every direction. Frustration gnaws at me—I can’t see a damn thing.

But I keep running. Running. Running. My feet pound over sand, stones, dried grass, and broken branches, until the scent of fresh soil fills my senses and gentle arms pull me down behind a jagged boulder.

“This thing’s vicious!” Nida shouts, crouching low beside me. “I can’t find Eryca! I can’t find anyone!”

My heart hammers against my ribs. Every second that ticks by steals my breath. A numbing sensation zaps through me. Briefly. But enough to startle me.

No . I think to myself. Not now. Stay calm.

I heave in air, lungs stinging. The dragon roars again—deafening, relentless. And I feel its breath behind the stone. Nida stills her breath, looks at me, and gives a slow nod.

Distract it one more time , I try to say. No words come out of my mouth, but she knows what to do. She crawls out, finding camouflage in the dust, reaching for a water bomb from her belt. Her last one.

I peek from the corner of the boulder, aiming for the dragon’s snout. But it’s too late. A searing heat grows in my hand, spreading all the way to my chest, preventing me from pulling the trigger as I collapse to the ground.

The venom .

Calm down. Steady. Breathe .

I try to lift my hands up, aiming for the beast, but it sends another hail of rocks into the ground with its tail and dashes away behind the mountain. It’s like a storm of boulders, and I lose my breath as one of them soars into me.

I gasp, my eyes opening wide as I stare into the blue sky, smoke threatening to consume it.

Blood lingers in my mouth as I attempt to spit it out, but it only goes further into my throat.

I watch the white clouds slowly pass by, sun rays on my skin.

Everything feels so peaceful as I slowly close my eyes.

But a sudden shock of pain wakes me. I yell out of pain.

Not this.

My hand finds its way onto my throat, as if I am trying to loosen up an invisible rope around it.

My lungs feel like they are filled with scorching coals.

The pain spreads throughout my body, faster and more excruciating than ever.

My vision blurs, and a crushing feeling presses harder and harder against my chest.

The venom. My serum. I haven’t taken my serum. Why so soon? Why now?

Just make it stop.

A roar thunders in the distance while a fiery red haze crawls across the sky.

I claw for air, but smoke thickens in my throat, each breath burning sharper than the last. With everything I have, I roll myself over to the side, searching the ground for anything.

Something. I lay my eyes on a leather bag. My bag.

“The serum,” I choke out. But my body refuses to move. It’s like I’m crushed, the taste of acidic blood lacing my tongue.

I don’t want to die. I’m not ready.

I spot Nida, lying on the ground, completely still—no Eryca or Ilian in sight.

No. Not her. Please . Not again.

I try to crawl, each movement a jagged blade slicing through my body again and again. Slowly, my vision blurs more. I can’t tell if it’s the venom spreading through my veins or the smoke clouding my eyes. Time drags, every blink stretching out like minutes.

Behind Nida, a shadowy figure crawls forward, hands clenched around a bloodied abdomen.

The figure falters, collapsing onto one knee.

I try to blink away the blur, desperate for a clearer look as pain and fear twist in my chest. I push myself forward, but my body weakens further.

The figure seizes Nida’s arm, slinging it around its neck, and screams in raw agony while struggling to pull her up.

Alex?

A few more blinks, and he vanishes into thin air.

A soft screech cuts through the chaos as delicate wings brush my cheek. Yellow eyes flicker in front of my eyes.

“Sarga,” I whisper, her beak gently nibbling on my nose.

She darts toward the bag just inches from me. My eyes snap wide as her claws tear through the fabric.

“Sarga,” I cough, stretching out with the last of my strength. She grips the serum injector and drags it free, nibbling the leathery loop attached. I try to crawl toward her, but my body goes limp. Numb. Dying .

I need to save my strength.

Sarga hops toward me, placing the injector in my palm. I grunt in pain, my hand the only thing still mobile, and jab the needle into my wrist—straight into a vein. Sarga watches my every move, her wings fluttering. I smile. She saved my life.

“He taught you, huh?” I say as I wait for the serum to course through my veins, relieving the pain. Distant voices scream my name, and golden curls with dulled green eyes blur above me. Sam . Everything goes black.