Page 66 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

Nida thrashes as the guards toss her around, still fighting, still refusing to give in.

But it’s useless. Too many of them. And she’s far too weak.

Her eyes lock on the chains around my wrists, scanning for a way to break them.

I shake my head—no use. She has to run. A soldier grabs her arm, dagger flashing toward her throat.

She ducks, slipping beneath his strike. But she’s surrounded.

An arm wraps around her neck, choking her.

She kicks, claws, and snarls like a caged animal desperate to survive.

“Shut up!” the soldier snaps, yanking her by the hair. She screams, grabbing his wrist, trying to break free.

“Nida!” I roar, blood forming around my wrists as I attempt to free myself—bones nearly breaking. The soldier beside me grabs my throat. I spit blood into his face, and his fist answers. A sharp crack to my cheekbone.

I’ll enjoy ripping his spine out once I’m free.

The man turns around walking toward Nida as she’s being dragged across the stone floor by her hair, yelling in pain.

Our eyes meet—her fear flares into fierce, burning rage.

She lets go of the soldier’s wrist she’d been holding.

Her hand shoots to the dagger strapped to the inside of her boot.

With a swift motion, the sharp edge of the dagger meets the thickness of her hair, cutting her loose—then she plunges it into the soldier’s leg.

He howls, but his screams cut off when the blade finds his throat.

The serum floods my veins, pain exploding in my chest. I choke, coughing up blood, desperate for air.

But no matter how hard I gasp, my lungs stay empty.

The chains bite cold against my wrists, but it’s nothing compared to the numbness spreading through my body, warm blood traveling down my arm.

My vision blurs again. I try to keep my head up. But I’m weak. Exhausted. Helpless.

Then, warmth presses against my cheeks—soft, steady.

“Nida,” I whisper. She’s cupping my face, shaking me. Every time I close my eyes, she brings me back. But I know—I’m hanging by a thread. My name… is—

Am I going to die here?

Leave everything?

My unit.

My friends.

My family.

Shit.

I don’t have a family. Not by blood, at least. My unit is—my unit is my family.

“Zel, you have to stay with me!” she screams. Her voice—agonizing. It pains me to hear her like this.

Something twists in my chest .My heart pounds harder with every beat, as if it’s trying to break through my ribs. I blink the fog from my vision, but only for a moment. Tears spill down her cheeks. I want to wipe them away, but I can’t even lift my hand.

“Please.” She weeps, shaking me. “We’re the ones who survive.”

A harsh light floods in as the door slams open. Four soldiers storm inside. Nida curls around me, folding in like a mother wolf shielding her pup. Her eyes dart wildly as the soldiers close in, desperately pulling me to her.

“No, no, no no no.” Her voice muffles. Silence—suffocating. I can only hear her fast heart beat. Soldiers yell—but I can’t make out their voices. Only whispers forming. Shut it off.

She jumps to her feet, pulling a second dagger from her boot. Her stance is steady—ready to take on her opponents.

“No,” I choke out, but she doesn’t flinch. Is she really going to fight?

“You’re. Not. Touching. Him,” she says, voice sharp as a blade.

I fade in and out of consciousness, catching fragments—soldiers wailing, metal clashing, heavy footsteps pounding the floor. Then her scream—loud, full of pain—and suddenly silence. Darkness. I don’t feel anything. I don’t hear anything. I don’t see anything.

Then, a whisper. Or a collection of whispers.

Stand.

Fight.

Cold rushes into my lungs, spreading through my arms and body. But instead of pain, there’s calm. I drag myself forward, fingers searching for the pins holding my chains. Anger roars inside me, uncontrollable.

I have to break free.

Ice snakes through my veins, flooding my body with strength—power I’ve never known before.

I’ll—

Fight.

Muffled screams. The sound of my heartbeat—louder and louder. A whisper.

Fight.

I hear voices urging me to break free. Break these chains. Fight .

A surge of heat rips through me. I twist my wrist, pulling harder and harder, muscles burning. Then—a faint scrape of metal against stone. The guards shout, but it’s too late. I refuse to stay bound to this wall any longer.

Anger boils in my blood and my pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out every voice in the room. Darkness swallows my vision, silhouettes blurring at the edges—but I don’t need to see. I hear them. Feel them. Anticipate them. Like the contraption in the training room.

I let the rage I’ve carried all these years consume me. It blazes through me like fire and I feel everything—heartbeats, blood rushing, dust and stone crunching beneath boots. I grab the chain once more. Pull. Pull. Pull.

Once.

Twice.

The room drops silent. The soldiers turn to me before slowly backing up.

“Shit,” one of them whispers, dropping his weapon on the stony floor. They won’t make it out of here alive.

I pull the chain, the hooks coming free in one clean motion. The stone wall crackles and dust and small stones rain down on the ground.

I grin, my vision clearing. One of the soldiers hurls a dagger at me, but I dodge it. The metal clatters against the wall, falling next to me. I crouch to grab the dagger—this will do perfectly.

Another soldier hurls himself forward with a knife in hand, aiming for my vitals. I move to the side, then swing the chain around his throat. With one pull, his neck snaps, and the silver metal is covered in dark crimson. Six more soldiers storm in, armed with daggers.

“You won’t get away with this!” a soldier yells, moving forward.

He thinks I let my guard down. He’s wrong.

I turn, dagger in hand, and plunge it straight to his throat.

A gurgling noise escapes him—the last breath he’ll ever take.

His warm blood drips over the dagger’s hilt, spreading over my fingers and wrist and elbow.

Then I drag it out, and he collapses to the ground, his skull cracking against a jagged stone jutting from the earth.

My eyes dart to my left, meeting Nida’s fearful gaze. As if she’s terrified of this side of me.

I guess I really am a monster. A Demon.

A foot shifts—barely a sound—and the blade hisses as it leaves its sheath.

My body tenses. A soldier’s about to lunge.

Shouts erupt—soldiers yelling, cursing me, fear thick in their voices.

I scan the room. Half a dozen of them. Two of us.

Brainwashed lives I’ll have to end. I remember everything they did.

Everything they took. They let my mother die.

They tried to kill me. Tried to kill Nida.

I won’t forgive that.

This won’t take long.

One by one, the soldiers begin to fall as Nida’s daggers find their marks between their eyes. I guess I have Alex to thank for that.

A grin stretches my face. Almost excited to see what’s going to happen. I’m almost… thrilled . They’re frantic. Scared. Unable to control their panic. Making them predictable. Obvious. Weak.

As two soldiers lunge, I step aside and slash low with the dagger behind their knees.

They drop instantly, howling as they hit the stone.

I don’t stop. Before I reach the others, an arm locks around my throat, crushing tight.

I twist, slam my elbow back into his stomach, and drive the dagger into his side.

He gasps in pain. I reach up, grab him and I throw him over my shoulder, slamming him on the jagged stone floor.

He lands with a sickening crack. He screams, limbs twitching, spine shattered.

I step over him. My boot hovers above his face, heart pounding.

He begs and pleads and screams. But his words do not reach me.

My boot crushes his jaw, and blood splatters across the stone.

I roar, hurling myself toward the remaining soldiers, taking their lives one by one. Several of them try to escape through the large door, but I don’t let them. They beg me to stop. But I won’t stop. I don’t want to stop.

I will bury this world in…

“Zel.”

A faint whisper. I inhale. A familiar, gentle voice washes over me, like it’s giving me the air I had longed for all this time.

Everything begins to feel cold like…

“Zel.”

…Ice.

I gasp for air, inhaling dust particles as I blink back to reality. It’s like waking up from a dream—or a nightmare. Warm hands caress me, shake me. I raise my eyes to the gentle fire flickering in hers.

Nida.

She’s calm despite being covered in fresh splattered blood, a key in hand she snatched from the guards.

She unlocks the cuffs, freeing my wrists.

I scan the room—and the horrors I created.

The walls that were once sandy brown are painted with crimson.

Deformed bodies litter the floor. Some… not even whole.

I didn’t know I was capable of this.

My hands are covered with dark, sticky fluid.

My heart pounds, blood rushes in my ears.

I attempt to swallow. The room spins, and my knees collide with the red stone.

I try to get up, but my legs feel weak again.

This is exactly how it happened at the Gate.

The same sensation, the same thrill I had when I killed those dragons.

And then numbness. Like something is missing—like my soul escaped my body and left a hollow shell.

Nida’s hands gently trace to mine, wiping off the blood, squeezing my fingers tightly—steadying me. Every breath feels like inhaling smoke. The kind of smoke that clings to your throat—the kind that only comes from burning flesh.

I look at Nida, bracing for fear. Disgust. Confusion. But all I see is sorrow. Her eyes plead for answers I don’t have—because I’m asking the same question.

What am I?