Page 70 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

A loud shriek rips through the air, and my eyes dart back to Nida, her trembling hands wrapped around the dagger’s hilt, plunged into the foot.

The beast slices its tail through the air and slams it into a wall, making the whole cave shake as it backs away from Nida.

She hurries away, and I catch her in a tight embrace as she stumbles forward.

“Are you hurt?” I say, my voice shaking. I check her for injuries. This is a lot harder than I thought. Having to keep track of the beast, contain my emotions, ignore the venom, keep her safe .

She shakes her head. “We—we have to get out of there, the cave will collapse!”

The beast roars, a sound that splits through my skull, shaking stone loose from the cavern walls.

Her massive body thrashes, slamming into the rock with terrifying force—sending dust and shattered stone flying.

I drag my feet across the uneven ground, heart racing, arm wrapped tightly around Nida’s waist, shielding her body with mine as rubble rains down around us.

Another guttural roar rumbles behind us.

The dragon flares its wings, the red leathery membranes catching and scraping against the cave walls. And then, it lunges.

Fuck.

It’s coming.

Fast.

The ground trembles as the beast charges, the heat of its breath prickling the back of our necks. My grip tightens around Nida, every step a gamble between speed and survival. I have to get out. With her. Or not at all.

I glance forward to see where I’m going before I turn my head back again, keeping track of the beast’s every movement. She’s angry. No. Enraged . As if I took something from her. Her pupils contract, the red around them blazing. She watches me— blames me.

Another glance forward.

A bottleneck. A narrow tunnel. The exit to this nightmare.

The stone walls squeeze inward as we run further, forcing the dragon to slow, its massive shoulders grinding against the jagged edges.

Exhausting it. But it doesn’t stop. It claws forward with feral desperation, determined to reach us.

And for a moment, I can feel her sharp teeth, her heated breath brushing the back of my neck.

The light ahead gleams faintly—hope, just out of reach. I feel the sun on my face. We’re almost there. Almost.

“Hold on,” I whisper, more to myself than to Nida. I sweep her into my arms, adrenaline rushing through my muscles as they ache in protest. But I run. Divines. I run. My boots slide across loose gravel. My chest burns. My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.

And then. Daylight.

Blinding.

Burning.

I burst into the open, lungs sucking in the sharp, clean air—like it’s the first breath I’ve taken in a long time. But I don’t stop.

Not yet.

I glance forward, then at Nida, feeling her arms wrapping around my neck. Firmly. Enough to tell me she’s still here. She hasn’t left me. And in all of that chaos, a small flicker of relief blooms in my chest.

She’s still here.

A thunderous crash rumbles behind me—the mountain cracking.

Collapsing onto itself. I spin just enough to catch a glimpse of the dragon wedge herself through the cave’s mouth, her claws splintering the rock, sending a storm of dust and debris—clouding the sunrays.

The cliffside cracking—shattering the walls in the shape of a broken crown.

The beast halts. She lifts her massive head, eyes locking with mine as I continue to sprint, glowing with something more than rage. Promising a return. That this—isn’t the end.

She roars. It almost sounds mournful. My heart sinks at the sound.

Then she beats her wings hard enough to rattle the earth beneath us, sending a rush of air and dust our way, filling my eyes.

I squeeze them shut, holding my breath as my grip tightens around Nida’s body, afraid she’ll disappear if I keep my eyes closed for too long.

I cough out the debris from my lungs and lift my head. A large shadow passes above me.

The Redsnout is gone.

I stand there, chest heaving, legs burning, arms still around Nida. The taste of ash and sunlight coats my tongue. Sweat trickles down my forehead, my back, my hands. My legs beg me to fall to the ground as I gasp for air.

The dragon could’ve killed us. I thought it would kill us.

But it didn’t.

And why—a question I doubt the Divines can answer— Why didn’t she use fire?

Stopping could be a death sentence, but I have to make sure Nida’s fine. Her breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. I’m terrified that each rasping inhale might be her last, yet for now, no matter how shallow or painful or weak it is, it gives me comfort. She’s still alive.

A large oak tree towers not far from the cave’s entrance, veiling the sky in a lattice of green and shadow. A safe place for now. Grass brushes against my heels as I stumble forward, holding her tightly against my body. Gently, I help her sit down, leaning her against the thick bark.

“Ah!” She winces. My fingers travel across her wounded leg.

“It’s deep,” I say, furrowing a brow. “Damn it.”

I unzip my leather jacket, fear crawling on my skin. I have nothing. No water to clean the wound. No fire, no daggers to close it up. I can at least try to stop the bleeding. But out here in the middle of nowhere, I am completely and utterly powerless against death.

I toss the leather jacket to the side. I rip my shirt off with shaking hands, the fabric catching on my arm as I fumble to tear it.

My breaths come fast, too fast. Blood is soaking through her pants.

I press the cloth to her leg, tying it tight, praying it’s enough—praying I’m not already too late.

Her breathing slows, and panic sinks in my gut. This time, I can’t control it.

“Hey!” I say, cupping her face as her eyes slowly close. “Hey, don’t you die on me, little bird. ”

Her breathing is shallow, and her painful moans are like a dagger in my gut. Twisting. Turning. With every inhale and exhale, it feels like my time is running out. I press the back of my hand on her forehead, the wet droplets clinging to my knuckles. She’s burning up.

I stand and look around the large tree, scanning the area for anything I can use.

Any herb or water or a way to keep her alive.

But there’s nothing. Only small, star-like blossoms of blue, dimly glowing among the blades of grass, gently caressing the tree’s roots that sprawl like fingers gripping the earth.

My knees hit the ground next to her once more.

“You—” she manages, brushing her hand across my cheek, smearing more dirt or blood onto it. “You need to go .”

“I’m not leaving you,” I say, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly as if that’s going to keep her here.

My heart races, and I can’t tell if it’s the venom acting up or something else.

The lightness of her hand slowly turns heavy, yet I squeeze tighter.

She blinks once. Twice. But the third time, her eyes remain shut, her head leaning to the side.

Panic swells in my chest, ribs pressing inward like a cage too small for my heart.

“Don’t—” I choke, lifting her head. “Don’t do this—don’t.

Don’t do this to me.” I glance at her leg once more, the thin fabric tightly wrapped around it.

A poor attempt to keep her from bleeding out.

But it’s not enough. Blood stains the grass under her thigh, seeping into the soil.

A tiny drop of crimson mixes into the petals, sinking into the bed of blue like dusk swallowing the sky.

I hold her. “You need to live. Okay? Do you hear me?” Her eyes pry open, for a moment, her breath still there.

She’s trying. She’s fighting. She’s breathing.

But with all this, I’m unsure how long I’m going to breathe.

Her breath is my own. She carved herself into me in ways nothing ever has before—deeper than any scar.

My heart beats for her, and she makes me believe I can stop the venom from spreading.

That I can live. That I deserve to live.

I want to live.

Time is running out, and I have to think quickly. Thoughts swirl in my head.

“Zel… you have to get out of here. Th—the dragon might return,” she breathes, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not leaving,” I say. My voice trembles.

“You have to. I’ll handle this myself.”

“Over my dead body.” The words slice through the air, and with them, something inside me stirs. A voice I tried to bury in the back of my mind.

Or hers.

Valous’ voice.

Shit.

Nedersen’s not far. I can make it. I might make it. I have to make it.

I stop thinking. I move. My arms find her waist, lifting her gently from where she’s slumped against the tree.

She winces, her leg limp. A ragged breath escapes her as she forces her eyes open.

They drift to the horizon in front of us—burning gold—then back to mine.

Wider. Still alive. Still here. Still breathing.

“Hold on,” I whisper. She leans in, her weight folding against me. Her red hair, damp with sweat and tangled with blood, brushes against my chin. My lips. The scent of earth and iron and smoke clings to her, sears itself into me. “You have to hold on.”

I slide my arm under her knees and sweep her into my arms, pressing her body against my chest.

And then, I run. I run toward the only place I can think of. The last place I want to go.

Valous’ tavern.