Page 76 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

S moke burns my throat as I suck in a breath, pouring into my lungs like venom.

But this time it’s not venom—it’s real fire.

My eyes fly open. I never really thought fire could hurt so much.

I cough hard, and it makes things worse.I stagger to my feet, my arms raised, trying to navigate through the fire.

Sweat beads on my forehead. Columns are wrapped in fire, and the moment I get too close, it scorches my skin—biting into my arms as if I’m attracting it.

It’s hotter than the fucking sun. I blink, but everything is a blur.

Orange light, shadows dancing, black smoke curling in every direction.

Panic flares in my chest, eyes burning. No words come out as I open my mouth.

No matter what I do, the exit feels further and further away.

Get out.

Get out.

Get out.

I can’t die here, not now. Chills run down my spine, but the heat is too intense for me to keep going. I can’t call up the unfamiliar power. A speck of crimson trickles down my chin. I look around, searching for a familiar face.

“Nida,” I cough out. Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

My knees buckle, and I crash to the ground, hard enough for the impact to split the weakened floorboards. With a trembling hand, I try to push myself up, but I’m too weak. What’s happening to me? Why can’t I move? Did Grogol inject me with the serum?

A cough echoes through the chaos, and a shadowy figure appears, stumbling and leaning on a pillar engulfed in smoke.

My vision is still blurry, but I try to reach for the figure that’s inches away.

They pause and then stumble forward, grabbing and throwing my arm over their neck.

The scent of cinnamon and blood coating my tongue takes over.

I’m hauled to my feet and pushed toward the exit and I suck in another breath, this time, it’s fresh air.

I’m suddenly dropped to the ground, my knees and hands hitting the dry soil as I cough the remaining residue of smoke out of my lungs.

I whip around, refusing to turn my back on whoever dragged me out of this hellish fire.

Long, black streaks of hair and piercing gray eyes greet me.

Valous. He turns, facing the burning tavern in front of him.

His burning home. A loud, pained roar escapes him.

I glance at my surroundings. Bodies of men, women, and children lie on the bloody soil. Wails carry through the ruins as survivors cradle their loved ones, their lives hanging by a thread.

This is all my fault.

With the little strength I have left, I rise from the ground, legs trembling as I try to get my balance back.

Heat radiates from the flames of the tavern, spreading to homes near it.

There is no way to stop it. In seconds, the silhouette of the wooden cabin will only echo in smoke, before it completely falls to ash.

Valous’ body tenses, rage seeping through his teeth.

Guilt gnaws at my throat. If I hadn’t shown up…

if I hadn’t dragged him into this—if I’d just found a way to carry the weight on my own—none of this would have happened.

Now, because of me, dozens are without a home.

No hope of rebuilding. No one left to thank but the Corps.

“Valous,” I manage to squeeze the word out, still battling the burning in my throat.

He turns to me, eyes wide. I try to apologize.

I try to say how sorry I am. Not even someone like him deserves this.

For a moment, he looks as if he could kill me.

As if he has a knife behind his back, ready to strike my throat. But he only takes a few steps back.

“Do not ,” he hisses through clenched teeth. Fists at his sides. “Do not.” His eyes rake across the field, shoulders slumping, and he releases a soft sigh. Then his attention returns to mine. The thunderous flames rage behind him.

“Where is she?” I ask, taking a few steps to grab Valous by the crewneck. “Where’s Nida?” My voice is loud. Thunderous .

He grabs my hands, pushing himself away from my grip. He’s pissed . But controlled.

“He took her,” he says calmly. “Grogol took her.”

I stare at him. Processing his words. Took her? Why? Is he going to use her against me? Wipe her memories? Fill her with lies? No, I can’t let that happen. I take a breath and then I step back, turning away. And I walk.

“Where are you going, Zel?”

“I’m going to go get her,” I say.

“You are telling me right now that you are going to turn around, leave these people—their homes burned—nowhere left to stay?”

“What do you want me to do?” I yell out.

“Give me what I want,” he seethes through clenched teeth.

I’ve never seen him like this before. My mind aches. It’s like there are empty patches in my memory. It’s like the conversation we are having now instantly fades from my mind. Only fragments are left.

“What is it that you want, Valous? I ask, weakly.

Valous stares at me, taking a deep, slow, deliberate breath.

In just a few seconds, everything changes.

The rage in his eyes—the anger that looked like it might explode, like he was about to stab me—fades away.

His breath evens out. His muscles relax.

He becomes calm. Collected. Controlled. He shuts his eyes for a moment. Then, he opens them.

“A rebellion,” he says calmly. “Give me a rebellion .” He takes a step closer.

I watch him in disbelief. What? A rebellion? Is this what he’s been doing all this time?

“You give me that, you burn the Third down to the ground like they did our home—and I’ll give you an army. I’ll give you Nida back.”

This bastard. Is he seriously using Nida’s life as leverage? Is he seriously asking me to do this? I look around me, watching the people’s eyes. Hatred for one common enemy seeps through them. And then I glance at the burning tavern.

I look at Valous. “No,” I say.

He scoffs. “Trust me, Zel, it’s better for me to owe you one than for you to owe me one.” When I stay silent, he grabs me by my shoulders. “You want to take the Corps down, kill Grogol. This is the way to do it. You can save Nida. And I’ll help you. You’ll need an army to lead.”

“What—an army that consists of these people?” I scoff. “They’re not soldiers , Valous, they’re villagers . Elderly and children, and men who are frail. They don’t know how to fight a war.”

“Do not compare them to those rats.” His voice hardens, low and dangerous.

“These people have fire in their veins more than what those Corps scum ever had. They’ve survived worse things than Grogol, even suffered from his hand.

And they’ve waited long enough. They’re ready to bring him down. They are more than just soldiers.”

I stare at the crowd again. Faces streaked with soot, eyes burning with a quiet rage.

Valous leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper.

“You think the Corps cares about strength? They care about control. Fear. These people? They want to fight. They want freedom. Real freedom. Not whatever shit Grogol throws your way and pretends it’s for the sake of humanity.

He lies. Betrays. Clips fucking ears!” He’s livid.

My fists clench. Freedom. The word tastes bitter. I think of Nida, trapped somewhere in that nightmare. I think of the home we lost, of the ashes still smoldering in my mind.

“I have an army. I have those who will follow. I just need someone to lead them,” Valous says, his grip tightening around my shoulders just enough to remind me he’s serious.

The air feels thick, heavy with possibility—and with danger. I can feel the weight of a choice pressing down on me. Again . The roar of the burning tavern fills the silence between us. Flames lick the night sky.

“No. I’m not going to let more people, villagers , die because of me,” I say, stepping away. “Once this is all over, I’ll make sure your homes are rebuilt. But I’m not going to lead a rebellion.”

He steps back, releasing me. “People are going to die anyway,” he says, voice bitter. “Dragons will swarm this place, and Grogol will let it happen. If you go in there alone, you’ll die.”

“Then let it be me instead of them,” I manage.

“And then what?” He scoffs, jaw clenching with impatience. “He’s going to kill everyone.”

I stay silent, shaking my head with the little strength I have—my head spinning, muscles tensing.

“Come on, Zel.” He closes in , his breath in my face. “You can’t actually believe the fires won’t rise again.”

I look up at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He bares his teeth, shaking his head.. What does he expect me to do? Lead another fucking expedition against people? Humans? Some are innocent. Some have no idea what Grogol has done. They deserve a chance to learn the truth.

It’s like I’m splitting into two. Maybe. Maybe he’s right. But I need to find Nida first. Eryca, Sam, Ilian—they’re still in the Third. Valous’ eyes flash as if he’s reading my mind, as if he knows I’m considering it.

“I have to go to the Third,” I say, breathing heavily. “I have to get to Nida, to my unit.”

“Snap out of this!” He bellows.

The air between us tightens. My pulse roars in my ears. I want to scream at him—for not understanding, for almost being right. But I don’t. I draw in a slow breath, tasting ash and regret. My voice is low when it comes.

“You want a rebellion,” I say. “I want her back.”

“With it, you will get her!”

“Not if more people have to die for it.”

He doesn’t answer, and I don’t give him the chance. I turn on my heel and start walking toward the Third.

“You know where to find me, Zel,” Valous calls after me. His voice echoes, full of fire and certainty. And that’s what bothers me most—the confidence in it. As if he knows something that I don’t.

But I don’t look back.