Page 65 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

A familiar icy touch circles my wrists, and every time I try to pull myself free, pain radiates down my arms. I’m trapped, hung like a pig for slaughter against the stone wall. A puff of heat surges from the torches above, the only source of light I have.

A faint moan rings in my ears. My blurred vision traces the red silhouette strung beside me.

Nida.

I jiggle the chains to get closer, examining her for any fatal wounds, but I can’t see anything from this angle.

“Nida—can you hear me?” I say, my voice a rasp.

She blinks, lifts her head slightly, and gives a weak nod. Her amber eyes catch the light, bright against the dried blood on her cheek.

Pain shoots through my arms as I pull harder, the chains threatening to snap my wrists. They’re forged from Karalia’s strongest alloy—strong enough to hold down a dragon. But even if I could break them, there’s no way out.

There are chains everywhere, embedded into the walls like parasites clinging to a host. They twist and coil upward, metal bars jut from the walls, and copper tubes snake across the ceiling, leading to a massive metal door directly across from me.

What is this place?

I narrow my eyes as they adjust to the dark.

Two guards flank the door—rigid, alert—screams Corps.

Just more of the general’s puppets. I wrap my right hand around the chain and pull—slow, testing.

Nothing. As I strain, something stirs beneath my skin.

A faint tingling, rising from my chest to my throat.

A bitter reminder. I didn’t take the serum.

Shit.

I take a slow breath, forcing calm into my chest. Stress only feeds the venom. Still, I can’t shake the need to break free from these chains

“They want something,” Nida says. “We’d be dead by now if there wasn’t something.”

I glance at her. Her eyes are clearer now, scanning the room like I am, tracking angles, corners, possibilities. I’ve been here before. A shiver snakes up my spine, a warning I can’t ignore. Whatever happens here, it can’t be good.

“I don’t want to stay and find out.” I test the chains again, biting back a groan as metal digs into my skin. “They overdid it with these. If they’d used standard links, I might’ve had a chance.”

“They’re scared of you.” Her eyes flick to my wrists. “Why else would they use this alloy?”

“Not sure. But whatever happens next, we need to be ready. Look for anything we can use.”

“The chains themselves.”

I glance at the wall behind her, where the stone looks uneven. A fault line? A weak spot?

“There’s a crack behind you. I’ll try to get to you,” I say. “If I can reach your chains—”

“You won’t,” she cuts in, calm and certain. “But if they unchain me first… I’ll make sure they regret it.”

A loud clang echoes through the cave. The door creaks open slowly.

Light floods in, blinding me for a moment before my eyes adjust. Five masked men step inside, Grogol right behind them, a grin playing on his lips.

I bare my teeth at him as he approaches—then he stops, mere inches from me.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disappointment before drawing in a slow breath to speak.

“Look at you,” he says, jaw clenched tight, his piercing blue eyes narrowing like a snake ready to strike. The lines around his eyes deepen, crow’s feet marking years of monstrous decisions. “It breaks my heart to see you like this, Kazele .”

I don’t say a word. Silence settles between us. I meet his gaze without flinching, and he stands there, hands folded behind his back, waiting. But I give him nothing.

“Stubborn,” he mutters, raising a brow, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

For a moment, I forget the stinging in my chest from the venom, but as time passes—it’s harder to ignore. Every breath is sharp, shaky, and more noticeable, especially as Grogol starts observing my face. He knows it’s not anger written all over me. It’s pain .

“Even with the mess you have made,” he says, adjusting his composure, “I am willing to give you a chance.” .

“A chance?” I bark, my pulse quickening. “You think I’ll ever side with you, now that I know what you've done?”

“Perhaps if you were to listen to the words I speak, you might understand the reason for my decisions.” He articulates every word as if talking to an unruly child.

“No,” I spit. “I’m done listening to you.”

Grogol’s eyes narrow as he releases a sigh. The fact that he still wears the red-adorned coat of a general makes my blood boil. That uniform should belong only to those who care about humanity.

“You made me believe we were alike,” I snap. “That you understood what it’s like to lose someone.”

“And I do!” His voice is loud, but his composure is still unyielding. “But I also know that nothing I do will ever bring them back. Why should others have what I’ve lost?”

“You think letting others suffer is going to help fix what’s broken in you?!” I snarl. “It seems like you have already given up. But unlike you, General , I have something to fight for.”

“I have admired your skills ever since you were a boy , Kazelius,” he says calmly, but a hand flexes at his side, shoulders stiff.

“You were ruthless. Fearless. Unlike anything I’ve seen before.

Your hatred for the beasts has given you the discipline that I desired to see in every soldier I have ever trained.

Yet it was only you who kept it. It is why I have hoped to have you by my side in the chain of command.

It is why I have trained you. Why I took you under my wing when you lost everything. ”

“And everything you’ve taught me, I’ll use to kill you,” I seethe.

His eyes darken, and his features relax. He’s given up.

“Fine,” he says, turning to the soldier behind him. The man steps forward with a pouch no larger than my palm. From it, he pulls a syringe filled with a swirling red liquid that glows faintly beneath the torchlight.

“This is exactly what you need right now,” Grogol says, lifting the vial so the light catches the fluid.

But it’s not the usual serum. There’s more of it—thicker, darker.

Wrong . It’s like the one in Disciplinary, but it looks like it’s infused with my serum.

Once again, I’m their pig to practice on.

He grabs my arm. I thrash against the chains, twisting, pulling, but they don’t budge. His grip tightens. I’m not going anywhere.

He plunges the serum into my neck, and cold tingles through my throat, up to the top of my head.

“Within minutes, the serum will take over your balance. It will seep into your heart and enter your bloodstream, bringing it straight to the brain. Where your… conditions will be amplified.Your vision will worsen. Eventually, you will lose consciousness—and ultimately, the serum will kill you. You will feel no pain.” He grabs my face, fingernails digging into my cheeks.

“You don’t touch him!” Nida yells, thrashing against her chains.

Grogol turns to her. “Almost forgot you were here,” he says.

“The rat—the infestation—the reason he’s so uncontrollable .

Love.” A scoff escapes him. “Pathetic.” He grabs her face, snapping it to the side.

I twist my wrist, nearly ripping my arm out of my socket, trying to reach for him—but it’s no use.

He lets go of her, but his eyes never leave her face.

“You turned my soldier weak. I would’ve thought you’d be a great asset to us.” He sighs, disappointed. “But it seems that blood in this matter is irrelevant.”

I face Nida, but all I see is red—blurring, bleeding into everything. Brown and copper and black warp, twisting into one. I blink hard, trying to steady my breath, trying to focus.

The serum.

It’s taking effect.

Damn it. It’s different. It feels different. It’s not my serum. It’s something else. I have to get out of this.

I grab the chain with my right hand and yank. Hard. The wall groans, a sharp crack echoes, and dust rains down into my hair. Still—not enough. I’m too weak. Every breath strains my chest. My strength is slipping fast.

Damn it.

“Take the girl,” Grogol orders, his voice bouncing between the stone walls. Footsteps close in fast. Chains rattle. Nida thrashes.

“If you lay a hand on her—” I snarl, yanking hard at my restraints. My grip tightens around the cold metal. The chains are too stubborn to break.

“Such a waste,” he mutters. “You had potential, Kazelius. Real potential.”

He strides toward Nida. She fights back, twisting as a soldier removes her chains. When they fall, she screams at Grogol.

He lets out a breathy laugh, shallow and cruel. Then waves her off like she’s nothing. “Kill her.”

No hesitation. He spins on his heel and walks away, not once looking back. The soldier by the door fumbles with strange tools, but my vision is too blurry to make them out.

I slip in and out of consciousness, trying to fight it—but whatever this thing is, it’s taking me fast. The air in the cave, Nida’s voice, the scraping of metal tools—it all fades into the distance.

I gasp for air.

No. No . I know what’s happening.

My memories.

Break this . Break the serum. But how?

My name is Kazelius Aaran. Hunter. Unit Seventeen. Commander. Pirlem is destroyed. There’s more than one dragon. Nida is my Tracker. Raumen’s dead. Stonetail. Grogol is responsible.

My name is Kazelius Aaran. Hunter. Unit Seventeen. Commander. Pirlem is destroyed. There’s more than one dragon. Nida is my Tracker. Raumen’s dead. Stonetail. Grogol is responsible.

My name is Kazelius Aaran. Hunter. Unit Seventeen. Commander. Pirlem is destroyed. There’s more than one dragon. Nida is my Tracker. Raumen’s dead. Stonetail. Grogol is responsible.

I repeat it in my head. Over and over again. Keeping myself controlled and steady.

My name is Kazelius Aaran. Hunter. Unit Seventeen. Commander. Pirlem is destroyed. There’s more than one dragon. Nida is my Tracker.

Nida is my Tracker.

Nida.

My eyes fly open.