Page 78 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

“They’re pinning this on me, Eryca!” I exclaim, eyes wide.

“And that’s not helping your reputation.” Her tone drips with sarcasm.

“Ligerion,” I blurt. “Tell him about what we saw in Pirlem. That might convince him to be on our side.”

She nods. Suddenly, the hall echoes with approaching footsteps. Eryca gasps, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.

“This way,” she says, and drags up the nearest stony staircase and into a narrow hall. Whispers drift from the landing above. Eryca’s brows knit as she tilts her head toward the sound. It’s the lieutenants—Rylan and Abern.

“The perimeter isn’t secured yet. We need to wait before we can continue with phase two,” Abern’s voice travels all the way to my ears.

“We need more soldiers,” Rylan adds, a faint sound of a pen scribbling across brittle parchment accompanying his words.

“You, keep a lookout for Aaran,” Abern says, shuffling his feet, keys rattling on his belt. “If he comes near, don’t wait. Shoot on sight. And make sure to aim for the head, throat, heart. Anything else, he’ll probably survive. Let everyone know.”

“Yes, sir.” A sarcastic, familiar voice taints the air, dragging each word lazily.

Alex .

That fucking rat. After I’m done with Grogol. He’s next.

“See who else can keep a lookout,” Rylan says to Abern. “And get me something that will make that little bitch talk.”

My stomach twists. He’s talking about Nida. Anger boils within me, but at the same time, I’m relieved. She’s alive.

Eryca signals for me to stay, pressing her finger against her lips before checking if they’re gone.

She peeks back, waving for me to come up.

I take a breath, calming my rapidly beating heart, before I step up the staircase.

Of all places, this is the last place I’d want to have a seizure.

Eryca grabs my arm again, darting into the hallway before shoving me into a room. My room.

I close the door behind me, locking it with the key still in the keyhole, and press my body against the door. Eryca runs her fingers through her thick curls, sweeping them to one side. She twirls on her heel, facing me, her eyes panicked.

“Are you going to tell me how you’re involved with Valous?” she whispers, yet her anger is still seeping through it.

“Later,” I say, moving toward the wall where the bow is.“Later?” she scoffs, “You need to—”

Two knocks. Pause. Two more knocks. My legs move toward the door without permission. “It’s Sam.”

“How do you know?” Eryca hisses.

“He always knocks like that.” The door flings open. Gentle green eyes stare back at me, as if taking in my presence. Quickly, he dashes in.

“It’s a bad idea for you to be here,” Sam whispers as I close the door.

“That’s what I’ve been telling him.” Eryca rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

Sam glances between me and Eryca, his brow furrowing as if piecing together the fragments of our conversation. His gaze finally stops on me. “Where’s Nida?”

Those words hit me in the gut. “She’s been taken,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She’s here—somewhere. I heard Rylan mention her.”

“Did he say her name?” Sam asks.

“No, just… called her—”

“She must be in the dungeons,” he interrupts.

I nod. “I need to get her out.”

Sam inhales deeply, then shakes his head. “No. You can’t. If you get seen, we’re basically dead.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Lay low,” Sam says, leaning in. “I’ll find where she is and get her out. Somehow.”

“Valous—” I say quickly, grabbing all of his attention. “Valous has an army.”

Eryca is now shaking. “An army? How the hell did he get an army?”

“Locals. Women, men, some are even children. Soldiers who deserted, villagers who are clipped. I think some of them are from Medyn. Garta. People who are done with Grogol and the King. At first I resisted, but now I don’t see any other way than to team up with him.”

“Can we trust him?” Sam asks.

I pause. “He helped us.”

Sam nods. “Alright. Alright then—a rebellion.” It’s like he read my mind and Valous’ in a split second.

I nod. “A rebellion.”

“Another thing,” Sam says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he hopes the words will disappear before reaching us.

He hesitates, drawing in a deep breath before finally meeting my eyes—like a man facing his biggest fear.

“Grogol relies on me… to tell him where you’ll be.

” His voice cracks, pain flickering in his green eyes, and my stomach plummets. “Statistically.”

His words knock the air from my lungs. Every breath burns, like I’m inhaling toxins. Deep in my mind, a thought claws its way up, relentless, no matter how hard I try to shove it back down.

Valous’ tavern. Was it Sam?

“I can lead them away,” he says quickly, his voice shaking.

“I can tell them where you could be without you having to be there. Instead, you can find a safe spot to lie low for a couple of days.” His body tenses, jaw clenched like the next words are going to hurt him.

Or me. “But you have to tell me. Statistically. Realistically… where would you be, if not here?”

“Nedersen,” I blurt out.

“No,” he shakes his head. “You wouldn’t go back to the same spot you’ve stayed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I seethe, anger traveling up my throat like fire. “Just tell them I’d be in Nedersen. No one’s going to be there at this point.”

Sam looks at me, jaw tight. His eyes squeeze shut. “It would work with anyone else… but you.” The words are quiet. Too careful. And still, they hit like a punch to the gut. My brow furrows. What does that mean? He sees the confusion flicker across my face.

“He knows you,” Sam says, voice raw now, a thread unraveling. “More than any of us ever could.”

And just like that, the air leaves my lungs.

Because he’s right.

Grogol doesn’t just know my tactics—he built them. He trained me, shaped me, peeled back every layer until there was nothing left but calculation. He knows how I think, how I move , what I choose before I even choose it.

He made me.

And now I’m trying to unmake myself. But how do you escape something that lives inside your bones?

I feel so powerless.

Sam’s eyes are still on me—gentle and patient. But that patience only makes it worse. It stresses me out.

Where could I even go? Not Pirlem—it’s too far. Too obvious. Grogol would know. Nedersen—Valous’ tavern is nothing but ash now. Gone. Only one place remains. The place I swore I’d never get involved.

“Old Man Tyras,” I whisper, the name catching in my throat like a splinter. It tastes like betrayal. ”Grogol saw him at the gate when Tyras spoke about the whispers. He’ll—He’ll remember the name.”

It squeezes my heart. Because going there means turning my back on the only people who’ve ever seen me as something more than the monster the Corps made me. Something human. Sam’s eyes flicker, dropping his head down to the fading wooden floorboards. He shuffles his feet and slowly nods.

“Okay,” he says.

And two heartbeats is all it takes.

“We need to warn him,” I blurt, the words clawing out before I can stop them—before I can pretend I hadn’t just spoken Tyras’ name aloud. But the moment it leaves me, I want to drag it back down my throat. “I can send Sarga to warn him that Grogol will look—”

“No.” Sam’s voice cuts clean through the storm in my chest. “He can’t know. You can’t—” He swallows, jaw working, hands curling into fists at his sides. “It needs to look real .”

His eyes meet mine, and there it is—buried behind all the strategy and calculations—grief. It hurts him to say it. Hurts me to hear it. There’s no other way.

“If Tyras isn’t there, he’ll know it was me,” Sam says, his voice breaking around the edges.

“Grogol will kill him,” I whisper, the words cracking under the weight of the lump in my throat. Sam tries to hide his flinch, but I see it.

“I’ll do everything I can to convince Grogol to spare him,” he says, softer now. “If you’re not there, Grogol might think keeping Tyras alive could draw you out. Use him as bait.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“No,” he whispers, “I can’t. But I have to try.”

Silence settles between us—thick, suffocating.

Rain patters against the stone walls outside, and somewhere far below, a bell tolls.

I feel like I’m splintering. Every part of me is being pulled in opposite directions—loyalty, guilt, vengeance.

Love. I stare at my hands. The tips of my fingers are stained with ash and charcoal, a dark shade that mirrors the color of my veins.

How can someone like me feel this way?

“He’s an old man, Sam,” I breathe. “He’s done nothing but try to help me when I was young. Alone. Barely a soldier. And now we’re handing him over to the wolves.” Sam steps forward, close enough that I feel the warmth of him, steady and solid.

“I know,” he says. “But you’re not just a regular soldier. You’re the only one with a real shot at bringing the Corps down. If Tyras knew the stakes, he’d make the same choice.”

“I’m tired of people making choices for me.” I clench my fists at my side.

“I know.” Sam’s voice is ragged now, too. “But this time, you’re choosing. You’re choosing the rebellion. The truth .”

I look up at him. “Don’t get him killed.”

This better be worth it. Because I don’t know how many more pieces of my soul I can sacrifice before there’s nothing left.

“Where will you be instead?” Eryca asks.

“There’s a cave,” I say quietly. “Not far from the Front’s border—close to Nedersen. It’s about the same distance as Tyras’ place. Maybe less.”

Eryca turns without a word, retrieving a sheet of paper and pen from the table behind her. She lays them out in front of me. “Draw it,” she says. “No matter how sloppy.”

I grab the pen, fingers still stiff from the cold. A rough outline forms beneath my hand—lines jagged, uneven. But it’s enough.

“I was there with Nida… before she got attacked by the Redsnout.” My voice catches on the last word.

The Redsnout.

Even saying its name coils a tight, burning knot in my chest. I haven’t told them—not about the wound. Not that the dragon is more than just claws and teeth. That it could be sentient.

I shake the thoughts away. Later.

I press the tip of the pen harder against the page.

“I’ll meet you a little way out from the entrance.

Just don’t get too close. I don’t think Grogol knows about this place—it’s hidden, tucked behind a massive old tree.

You pass through a dense patch of forest. There’s brush and dry scrub everywhere.

It’s easy to miss unless you’re looking for it.

” My hand lifts from the page. Smudged ink stains my fingertips. I meet Eryca’s eyes.

“It’s the only place left that hasn’t been touched by Corps filth.”

Not yet, anyway.

Sam takes the sheet, analyzing the rough lines. He gives a few nods before folding it and giving it to me again.

“Burn it,” he says, wiping off whatever residue his fingertips caught onto his pants. “I memorized it.”

I hesitantly take it, but it’s no surprise Sam is able to catch onto things quickly—and memorize things at a glance.

“We’ll be there in a day,” Eryca says, her voice gentle. “But now, you need to get out.”

“But—” I protest.

“We’ll look for Nida, okay? Ilian has more ground—he’s on patrol. I’m only on guard duty. But every evening he passes me in the hall. I can tell him everything then.”

I furrow a brow, about to protest.

“You have to trust me,” she whispers, and a wave of relief washes over me.

“I do.”

Sam moves toward the door just as another bell tolls in the distance.

He pauses, hand brushing the worn frame, and gives me a soft nod.

One that says more than words ever could.

For the first time in a long time, I have someone else to trust. To help carry the burden.

Then he disappears behind the door, its hinges groaning shut.

Eryca strides to the window, quickly opening it.

She sticks her head out, scanning the surroundings.

“You know the way down?” she asks, even though I’m certain she knows the answer. I give her a nod. There’s a ladder a ways down. Just need to hop some roofs to get there. Hopefully, without being spotted.

“ One day. And don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

Even though I’ve gotten control of my emotions, I’m still weak in my knees.

I still feel like the emotions will take over once again.

And next time harder. I stride to the window, pulling myself up on it, feeling the fresh breeze on my face, accompanied by small drops of water from the rain.

I look back, Eryca’s brown eyes staring back at me.

“Eryca—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts. “You’re like a brother to me. No matter the shit you’ve pulled. In a way… I understood why. I would’ve done the same. So… don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

She gives me her bow. A smile tugs on my lips, and she tilts her head back, a way of telling me to get the fuck out of her sight without anymore goodbyes. I crawl out the window, the rain pelting me once again, and pull it shut behind me.