Ella era invisible para todos… hasta que el Rey Dragón la necesitó para sobrevivir.

The obsidian hall was thick with heat and silence.

Every noble, every guard, and every priest stood perfectly still as the iron doors at the far end groaned open.

The dragon king stepped through.

His tall frame wrapped in scorched black armor that still smoked from whatever battle he had just returned from.

His golden eyes burned with a dangerous unsteady light.

The air around him warped from the sheer force of his presence, and the court instinctively drew back without a single command being spoken.

No one dared to breathe too loudly.

At the very back of the hall, pressed against the cold stone wall, stood Lurel Voss.

She had not been summoned.

She had simply been brought here, as she often was, an afterthought, a living reminder of what the kingdom preferred to forget.

a wolfless girl with no scent to the wolves in this court.

She did not exist in any way that mattered.

They could not smell her.

They could not track her.

She left no trace on the wind, no mark on their instincts.

To them, she was less than a ghost.

She was nothing.

And yet, tonight, something felt different.

Liriel watched the ritual circle being prepared in the center of the hall.

The silver runes carved into the black marble began to glow with a sickly orange light as the priests chanted.

A young wolf from the borderlands was dragged forward, bound in silver chains, and forced to his knees inside the circle.

His eyes were wide with terror.

Luriel’s fingers tightened against the stone wall behind her.

She had seen this ritual before, three times in the past year.

Each time, the temple used a living wolf as a vessel to draw away some of the dragon king’s uncontrollable rage.

Each time, the wolf did not survive with his mind intact.

The curse inside the dragon king was too violent, too ancient.

It devoured whatever it touched.

But tonight felt worse.

The dragon king’s breathing was already ragged.

His pupils kept shifting between human and slitted.

The heat rolling off his body was stronger than usual.

Liel could see it in the way the runes on the floor flickered unevenly, struggling to contain him.

Something was wrong with the binding.

A cold realization settled in her chest.

If the ritual failed now, the dragon king would lose control completely inside the hall.

Many would die.

Not just the bound wolf, but the nobles, the guards, and the priests who stood too close.

Her pulse quickened.

She had spent years making herself invisible.

Years learning how to stand in the shadows and remain unnoticed.

But as she watched the Dragon King’s form begin to shift, scales crawling up his neck, smoke rising from his mouth, something inside her refused to stay still.

The chanting grew louder.

The bound wolf screamed as the magic tore into him.

The dragon king threw his head back and roared.

Flames burst from his hands and mouth, wild and uncontrolled.

The court scattered in panic.

Several nobles cried out as the heat scorched their skin.

The silver runes cracked beneath the force of his power.

Luriel’s body moved before her mind fully decided.

She stepped away from the wall.

No one stopped her.

Most did not even notice her until she had already crossed half the distance to the circle.

Her lack of scent worked in her favor.

Their wolves did not react to her presence.

She was simply not there until she was standing at the edge of the broken runes.

The dragon king, now half transformed, turned his burning gaze toward the movement.

His clawed flametheathed hand rose, ready to strike down whatever dared approach him.

Lirael did not run.

She stepped into the circle and placed her bare hand against his burning chest.

The fire did not burn her.

For one suspended, impossible moment, the roaring flames around the dragon king faltered.

His monstrous form shuddered violently.

The golden fire in his eyes dimmed just slightly, as if something inside him had been forced to pause.

Liel stood very still, her hand pressed against scales that should have turned her to ash.

Her heart hammered so hard she could barely breathe, but she did not pull away.

Around them, the hall had gone deathly quiet.

Some of the nobles had fallen to their knees in terror.

Others stared in open horror, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.

A few of the older priests looked at Liel with something closer to dawning, fearful understanding, as if they had just remembered an old warning they had chosen to forget.

The dragon king stared down at the small hand resting against his chest.

His breathing was still rough, but the flames had died.

For the first time in a very long while, the rage in his eyes was not the only thing present.

Something else had surfaced.

Recognition.

And in the heavy silence that followed, the court of the dragon king remained, divided, some frozen in fear, some beginning to understand that the girl with no scent had just done what none of them could.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Liel slowly lowered her hand from the dragon king’s chest.

The heat had already begun to fade beneath her palm, but the memory of it remained.

Not the pain of burning, but the strange steady warmth that had answered her touch instead of rejecting it.

The dragon king stared at her, his golden eyes were still slitted, the last traces of his transformation lingering along his jaw and neck in faint scales.

He looked at her as though she was something that should not exist.

For several long seconds, he said nothing.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached out and took her hand.

Lel tensed, but did not pull away.

He turned her palm upward, studying it with an intensity that made the entire hall hold its breath.

His thumb brushed once across her skin, as if confirming that she truly had not been burned.

A flicker of something crossed his face surprise, perhaps even disbelief.

It had been years since anyone had been able to touch him without suffering for it.

And yet here she stood, unmarked, the dragon king released her hand slowly, almost reluctantly.

Around them, the court remained frozen in a fractured silence.

Some nobles had gone pale with fear, their eyes darting between Liiel and the dragon king, as though expecting him to burn her at any moment.

Others, particularly the older priests near the back, watched with a different kind of tension, the kind that came from recognition rather than ignorance.

One of them even took an unconscious step backward, as if her presence alone had unsettled something long buried.

The high priestess was the first to speak.

Her voice was sharp, barely masking the alarm beneath [clears throat] it.

My king, this girl is dangerous.

She has no wolf.

She has no scent.

She should never have been allowed near the ritual.

What she did was not an act of loyalty.

It was interference.

The dragon king did not look at her.

His gaze remained fixed on Liel.

She stopped the fire, he said quietly.

When none of you could, the priestess’s expression tightened.

She knew something the others did not.

Years ago, when she was still a young acolyte, she had read an old prophecy hidden deep within the Flame Temple’s archives, a warning about a girl who carried no scent, whose existence would one day force the Dragon King to choose between his power and his humanity.

At the time, she had dismissed it as nothing more than ancient superstition.

Now, standing before Liel, she felt the weight of that forgotten warning settle over her like ice.

The Dragon King finally turned his attention to the court.

His voice, when he spoke, carried the full weight of his authority, clear the hall.

No one moved at first.

Then slowly the nobles and guards began to retreat, though many did so while still staring at Liel.

Some looked at her with open fear, others with something closer to weary calculation.

The high priestess lingered the longest, her eyes cold and sharp before she finally turned and swept out of the hall with the remaining priests.

When the heavy doors finally closed, only Liael and the dragon king remained.

He studied her in silence for a moment longer before speaking again.

The curse is getting worse, he said.

What happened tonight was not the first time I lost control, but it was the closest I have come to destroying my own court.

He paused, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

You were able to stop it.

That is not something I can ignore.

Liel’s mind moved quickly.

She could feel the shift in the air.

This was no longer just about survival in the shadows.

The dragon king had seen her.

He had felt what she could do.

If she refused him now, she doubted she would be allowed to simply return to her quiet life in the outer corridors.

Running would only make her look guilty, and in a kingdom ruled by a man who could burn entire halls when provoked, being seen as a threat was dangerous.

Still, she hesitated, her fingers curled slightly at her sides as she weighed her options.

She could try to disappear again, slip away into the less guarded parts of the palace, but she knew it would not work.

Not anymore.

The dragon king had already decided she was useful, and useful things in this court were rarely allowed their freedom.

The dragon king seemed to sense her hesitation.

He took one step closer.

His voice dropped lower and more direct.

Come with me now.

It was not a request.

Liel met his gaze.

For a brief moment, she considered refusing.

But the memory of the corrupted fire and the way the court had looked at her afterward made the decision for her.

Staying silent and invisible was no longer an option.

She gave a small, reluctant nod.

Without another word, the dragon king turned and began walking toward the private doors behind the throne.

Liel followed a few steps behind, her heart beating hard against her ribs.

She did not know what awaited her, but she knew with cold certainty that whatever came next, she would no longer be able to remain unseen.

The Dragon King led her through a series of private corridors until they reached a heavy black door.

He pushed it open without a word and stepped inside.

Liel followed a few paces behind, her mind still reeling from what had just happened in the hall.

The room was large and dimly lit with a fire burning low in the hearth.

Maps and old scrolls were scattered across a heavy wooden desk.

There were no servants here, no guards, just the two of them.

Liel stopped near the door, keeping some distance between them.

Her thoughts were a mess of conflicting instincts.

Part of her wanted to turn around and disappear into the palace’s forgotten corridors.

To return to the shadows, where she had survived all these years, another part quieter, but harder to ignore told her that running now would only make her look guilty.

And guilt in this court was often a death sentence.

The dragon king walked to the desk and poured himself a cup of wine.

He did not offer her any.

Instead, he turned and leaned against the edge of the desk, studying her in silence for several long seconds.

Finally, he spoke.

The curse is not just getting stronger, he said, his voice low.

It is changing.

There are nights when I lose hours, whole stretches of time where I do not remember what I have done.

He paused, his golden eyes darkening.

Two weeks ago, I woke up in the Northern Tower with blood on my hands.

I still do not know whose it was.

Liel felt a cold weight settle in her stomach at his words.

She had seen him lose control tonight, but hearing him admit that he could not even remember his own actions made the danger feel much more real.

The dragon king looked down at his own hand for a moment, flexing his fingers as if the memory still lingered there.

I have burned people who served me loyally for years, he continued quietly.

I have destroyed entire wings of this palace without meaning to, and every time it becomes harder to come back.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers.

If this continues, I will not stop until there is nothing left of this kingdom but ash.

Luriel remained silent, but her mind was working quickly.

She had spent years making herself invisible, telling herself that surviving was enough.

But standing here now, listening to the Dragon King speak so plainly about his own destruction, she felt the old familiar conflict rise inside her.

Part of her still wanted to run, to slip away before this man and his curse could pull her any deeper into their world.

But another part of her, the part that had stepped into the ritual circle without thinking, recognized something dangerous and tempting, in his words, If she stayed, she might finally understand what was inside her blood.

If she stayed, she might lose whatever fragile sense of self she had managed to build in the shadows.

The Dragon King seemed to sense her hesitation.

You cannot return to the outer halls, he said.

Not after tonight.

The high priestess already sees you as a threat.

She has spent years feeding the temple’s power through my instability.

If she believes you can threaten that, she will find a way to remove you.

Liel’s jaw tightened slightly.

She had felt the priestess’s hostility in the hall.

Now she understood it ran deeper than simple dislike.

The woman had looked at her as if she already knew something dangerous about her existence.

The dragon king pushed away from the desk and took a few steps closer.

His voice dropped.

You will stay in the eastern wing under my protection.

It is the only place.

She cannot easily reach you right now.

Liel looked at him steadily.

She thought about the years she had spent being ignored, dismissed, and treated like she did not exist.

She thought about how easily the court had been willing to use others as vessels for this man’s curse.

and she thought about the strange quiet power that had risen inside her tonight.

The one that had made fire obey her touch.

Running would mean returning to a life of being nothing.

Staying meant stepping into something far more dangerous.

After a long moment, she spoke.

I will stay, she said quietly.

But not because you ordered it.

The dragon king held her gaze.

Then why? Liel’s silver gray eyes did not waver.

because if I leave now, I will spend the rest of my life wondering what I could have become if I had stayed.

The dragon king studied her for a few seconds longer.

Then he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Someone will come to escort you to your rooms, he said.

Rest.

Tomorrow we will speak again.

He turned and walked toward the door.

Just before he left, he paused and looked back at her.

Do not make me regret this, Liriel Voss.

Then he was gone, leaving her alone in the cold, quiet room.

Liel [clears throat] stood there for a long time, staring at the closed door.

She had chosen to stay, but as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

She could not shake the feeling that she had just stepped onto a path from which there would be no easy return, the eastern wing of the palace was quieter than Liiel expected.

A silent attendant led her through long, dimly lit corridors until they stopped in front of a heavy wooden door.

The woman opened it without a word and stepped aside, allowing Liriel to enter first.

The room was larger than any she had ever stayed in.

A wide bed stood against one wall, covered in dark furs and thick blankets.

A fire burned steadily in the hearth, and a small table near the window held a jug of water and a plate of bread and dried fruit.

It was simple, but clean and warm, far more comfortable than the cold storage rooms she had grown used to in the outer parts of the palace.

Liriel stepped inside slowly.

The attendant lingered at the door for a moment before speaking in a low voice.

The king has ordered that no one is to disturb you tonight.

Food will be brought in the morning.

She hesitated, then added, If you need anything, there is a bell by the bed.

Liel gave a small nod.

The woman bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind her.

For the first time in hours, Liel was alone.

She stood in the center of the room for a long moment, simply listening to the crackle of the fire.

Then she walked to the window and pushed the heavy curtain aside.

Outside the snow was still falling, covering the palace grounds in a thick white blanket.

From here, she could see the distant lights of the city beyond the walls.

She had spent years dreaming of disappearing completely.

Now she stood in one of the most protected wings of the palace, under the direct order of the dragon king himself.

The thought made her chest feel tight.

Liel turned away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed.

She stared at her hands for a while, remembering the moment she had placed her palm against the dragon king’s burning chest.

The fire had not hurt her.

Instead, it had felt responsive, as if it had recognized something in her blood.

She did not understand it.

And that lack of understanding frightened her more than the dragon king’s rage ever had.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

Liel stood up quickly, her body tensing.

Come in.

The door opened, and a different attendant stepped inside, an older woman with silver streaked hair and a calm, unreadable face.

She carried a folded set of clothes in her arms.

The king asked that these be brought to you, the woman said, placing the bundle on the table.

They should fit well enough for tonight.

Liel looked at the dark, simple garments.

They were far better quality than the worn gray robes she usually wore.

Thank you, she said quietly.

The attendant studied her for a moment before speaking again.

You should be careful, she said, her voice low.

The Flame Temple does not like surprises, and tonight you became one.

Lurel met the woman’s eyes.

There was no malice in them, only a quiet warning.

I know, Liiel replied.

The attendant gave a small nod, then turned and left without another word.

Once again, Liel was alone.

She changed out of her old clothes and into the dark tunic and trousers that had been brought for her.

The fabric was soft and warm against her skin.

She sat back down on the bed, staring into the fire, as her mind continued to turn.

She could still leave.

The eastern wing was heavily guarded, but she had spent years learning how to move without being noticed.

If she was careful, she might be able to slip away before mourning.

She could disappear into the northern wilds, far beyond the reach of both the dragon king and the temple.

But then she thought about what the dragon king had said about losing hours of his life, about waking up with blood on his hands and not knowing whose it was.

She thought about the corrupted wolves she had seen on the journey here, and the fear in the eyes of the court when he had begun to lose control.

If she ran, how many more would suffer? Lel closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.

She had spent so long surviving by staying small, by making herself into nothing.

But tonight, something inside her had refused to stay hidden.

And now that it had been seen, she was not sure she could force it back into the dark.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts once more.

This time, when she opened it, it was not an attendant.

The dragon king stood in the hallway.

He had changed out of his armor and now wore a simple black tunic.

His golden eyes looked tired, but alert.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he said, I want to show you something.

Luriel hesitated, her hand still on the door.

The dragon king seemed to notice her weariness.

He did not step closer.

It is not far, he said, and I give you my word that no harm will come to you tonight.

Luriel studied his face.

She could see the exhaustion there, and something else, a quiet, guarded curiosity.

He was not ordering her this time.

He was asking.

After a long moment, she gave a small nod and stepped out into the hallway.

The dragon king turned and began walking.

Liel followed, keeping a careful distance between them.

They [clears throat] walked in silence through the eastern wing until they reached a narrow staircase leading downward.

At the bottom was a heavy iron door.

The dragon king pushed it open, revealing a large underground chamber lit by torches along the walls.

Lurel stepped inside and stopped.

The walls were covered in old carvings, dragons, wolves, and ancient symbols she did not recognize.

In the center of the room stood a large stone pedestal, and on it rested a single black scale cracked down the middle.

The dragon king walked to the pedestal and placed his hand beside the scale.

This belonged to the first dragon king, he said quietly.

It has been kept here for centuries.

The temple claims it holds the key to controlling the curse.

He looked at Liel, but in all the years I have tried.

It has never responded to me.

Liel stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the cracked scale.

Even from a distance, she could feel something coming from it.

A low, steady hum that resonated somewhere deep in her chest.

The dragon king watched her carefully.

Tonight, when you touched me, something changed, he said.

I want to know if it will respond to you as well.

Luriel looked at him, then back at the scale.

She could feel her pulse quickening.

Whatever this was, it felt important, and she had a feeling that once she touched it, there would be no going back.

The underground chamber was cold and silent.

Luriel stood a few steps away from the stone pedestal, her eyes fixed on the cracked black scale resting on top of it.

Even from a distance, she could feel a strange pull coming from the object, a low, steady thrum that resonated somewhere deep in her chest.

It was not loud, but it was insistent, like a heartbeat that did not belong to her.

The dragon king stood nearby, watching her without speaking.

The torch light cast long shadows across his face, making his golden eyes appear darker than usual.

Liel took a slow breath and stepped closer.

She could feel the dragon king’s gaze on her as she approached the pedestal.

Part of her still wanted to turn around and leave this room, to return to the safety of distance and silence.

But another part of her, the same part that had made her step into the ritual circle earlier, refused to back away now.

She stopped in front of the pedestal and looked down at the scale.

It was larger than she expected, nearly the size of her forearm, and completely black, except for the deep crack running through its center.

The surface looked smooth, almost glassy, but she could sense that there was something alive beneath it.

Lurel hesitated for only a moment before reaching out.

The moment her fingertips touched the scale, a sharp pulse of energy shot up her arm.

She gasped softly and pulled her hand back on instinct.

The sensation was not painful, but it was intense, like something ancient and powerful had briefly recognized her and tried to reach out in return.

Her heart pounded hard against her ribs as she stared at the scale, half expecting it to move.

Behind her, the dragon king took a small step forward.

What did you feel? he asked, his voice low.

Liel kept her eyes on the scale.

She flexed her fingers slowly, trying to steady herself.

It reacted, she said quietly like it knew me.

The Dragon King was silent for a moment.

When he spoke again, there was a trace of something she had not heard in his voice before.

Cautious hope.

It has never done that for anyone else, he said.

Not even the high priestess.

Lurel finally looked at him.

His expression was carefully controlled, but she could see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands had curled slightly at his sides.

This mattered to him more than he was willing to show.

She turned her attention back to the scale, and after a brief hesitation, placed her entire palm against it this time.

The reaction was stronger.

A wave of cold and heat washed over her at the same time.

Images flashed behind her eyes, fragmented and unclear.

She saw fire raining from the sky, dragons and wolves fighting beneath a blood red moon and a woman with silver eyes standing in front of a cracked throne.

The visions disappeared as quickly as they came, leaving her breathless.

Lurel pulled her hand away and took a step back, her breathing uneven.

The dragon king moved closer, his golden eyes searching her face.

What did you see? he asked.

Liel shook her head slightly, still trying to make sense of the fragments.

Fire, she said.

And someone like me, standing in front of a throne that was already broken.

The dragon king’s expression darkened.

He looked at the scale with something close to frustration.

The temple has kept this scale hidden for generations.

He said, They claim it can help control the curse, but they have never allowed me to use it freely.

Every time I try, it remains cold and lifeless.

He glanced at her until tonight.

Liel wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the chamber.

I don’t understand any of this, she admitted quietly.

I spent my whole life believing I was nothing, that I had no wolf, no power, nothing worth noticing.

She looked at him and now everything is changing too fast.

The dragon king studied her for a long moment.

When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before.

I know what it feels like to lose control of who you are, he said.

Every time the curse takes over, I become something else.

Something that does not care who it destroys.

He paused.

If there is even a small chance that you can help me keep that from happening again, I will not let the temple take that away from us.

Liel looked at him, surprised by the honesty in his words.

For the first time since she had met him, the dragon king did not sound like a ruler giving orders.

He sounded like a man who was running out of options and was willing to take a risk on the one person who had managed to reach him.

She glanced back at the cracked scale.

Whatever connection she had with it was real, she could still feel the faint echo of it humming beneath her skin.

And even though it frightened her, she could not deny that a part of her wanted to understand it.

After a long silence, Liel spoke.

I will try, she said.

But I need you to be honest with me.

No more secrets about the curse.

If I am going to help, I need to know what I am truly facing.

The dragon king held her gaze and gave a slow nod.

Agreed.

He stepped closer to the pedestal and placed his hand beside hers on the cold stone.

For a moment, they stood side by side in silence, both staring at the broken scale between them.

Neither of them noticed the faint silver glow that briefly flickered across the crack in the scale before fading away.

They remained in the underground chamber for a while longer, both of them staring at the cracked black scale on the pedestal.

The strange energy that had briefly flared between them had faded, but the air still felt heavier than before.

Liel eventually stepped back from the pedestal.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady the strange, restless feeling still lingering beneath her skin.

The dragon king watched her quietly.

You should sit, he said after a moment.

What just happened? It takes a toll.

Liel hesitated, then walked over to a stone bench along the wall and sat down.

The dragon king remained standing, though he kept a respectful distance.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Liel was the first to break the silence.

You said the temple has kept that scale hidden for generations, she said.

Why? The dragon king looked at the scale, his expression darkening.

Because they fear what it represents, he answered.

That scale once belonged to the first dragon king, the one who made the original pact with the ancient powers.

According to the oldest records, his bloodline was supposed to carry the ability to control the curse.

But something went wrong over the centuries.

The power became unstable.

Instead of controlling it, each generation became more consumed by it.

He paused, then continued in a lower voice.

My father was the same.

Toward the end, he could no longer tell the difference between his own thoughts and the rage the curse fed him.

He burned an entire village to the ground because he believed they had betrayed him.

They hadn’t.

He simply lost himself.

Liel looked at him.

For the first time, she saw the weight he carried, not just as a king, but as a man who had watched his own bloodline slowly destroy itself.

And you’re afraid the same thing will happen to you, she said quietly.

The Dragon King did not answer right away.

He walked over to the opposite wall and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

I have already come close, he admitted.

There have been nights where I wake up in places I do not remember going to with injuries that are not mine.

Once I found myself standing over the body of one of my own commanders.

I had no memory of killing him.

His voice grew rougher.

I do not want to become that.

Not again.

Liel studied him in silence.

She had spent years seeing the Dragon King as nothing more than a dangerous, uncontrollable force.

But standing here now, listening to him speak so plainly about his fear of losing himself, she felt something shift inside her.

It was not forgiveness, not yet, but it was the beginning of understanding.

The dragon king looked at her again.

Your bloodline is connected to this curse somehow, he said.

The scale reacted to you.

And when you touched me earlier, the fire listened.

That has never happened before.

He paused.

I need to know why.

Liyel lowered her gaze to her hands.

I don’t have answers, she said.

I’ve spent my whole life being told I was nothing.

That I had no wolf, no scent, no worth, and now suddenly everyone wants something from me.

She looked up at him, her silver gray eyes steady.

I’m not sure I want to be anyone’s solution.

The dragon king held her gaze.

I’m not asking you to save me, he said.

I’m asking you to help me keep from destroying everything else while I still can.

Liel was quiet for a long moment.

She thought about the years she had spent being invisible, about how easily people had dismissed her, used her, or ignored her completely.

And she thought about the strange power that had begun to stir inside her, the one that had made fire obey her touch and caused an ancient scale to react.

If she walked away now, she might be able to disappear again.

But she also knew that the curse would continue to spread.

More people would die, and she would have to live with the knowledge that she could have done something, but chose not to.

After a while, she spoke.

I’ll help you, she said.

But not because you’re the dragon king, and not because I owe this kingdom anything.

She met his eyes.

I’ll help because I want to understand what I am and because I don’t want to watch more people burn for something they didn’t cause.

The dragon king studied her for a long moment.

Then he gave a slow, deliberate nod.

That’s enough, he said.

He pushed away from the wall and walked toward the door.

Before he opened it, he looked back at her.

Get some rest tonight.

Tomorrow, we will begin searching for answers.

together.

Liel watched him leave, the heavy door closing behind him with a dull thud.

She remained sitting on the stone bench for a long time after he was gone, staring at the cracked scale on the pedestal.

For the first time in years, she was no longer running from who she was.

But she also knew that whatever she was about to uncover, it would change everything.

Liel arrived at the war room just as the first light of dawn began to creep across the sky.

Two guards stood outside the heavy doors.

They looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and caution, but did not stop her from entering.

She pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The war room was large with a long stone table in the center covered in maps and scrolls.

Several highranking nobles and military commanders were already gathered, speaking in low, tense voices.

At the head of the table stood the dragon king, dressed in dark armor without any ceremonial decorations.

His expression was cold and unreadable.

The moment Lel entered, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

All eyes turned to her.

She could feel the weight of their stairs.

Some openly hostile, others merely weary.

She kept her posture straight and her expression calm, even though her heart was beating faster than she would have liked.

The dragon king’s golden eyes met hers across the room.

He gave her a small nod, barely noticeable, but enough to acknowledge her presence.

Liel walked forward and stopped a short distance from the table.

The high priestess stood near the dragon king’s right side, her red robes pristine and her expression carefully composed.

When she saw Lurel, a faint cold smile touched her lips.

So the girl with no scent has decided to join us, the priestess said, her voice smooth and carrying.

How generous of you to grace us with your presence after what happened last night.

Liel met her gaze without flinching.

I was summoned, she replied evenly.

So I came.

A few of the nobles exchanged glances.

One of the older commanders leaned forward slightly, studying Liriel with narrowed eyes.

The entire court saw what you did during the ritual, he said.

You touched the dragon king while he was losing control and somehow stopped him.

That is not something any ordinary person can do.

I never claimed to be ordinary, Lurel answered quietly.

The high priestess’s smile widened, though it did not reach her eyes.

Indeed, and that is precisely why we are here.

She turned to the dragon king.

My king, this girl appeared out of nowhere and interfered with a sacred ritual.

She carries no wolf, no scent, and now claims to have power over your curse.

We cannot simply ignore the danger she may pose.

Several nobles nodded in agreement.

Liel felt a flicker of anger rise in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm.

She had expected this.

The priestess was clearly trying to paint her as a threat before she could even speak for herself.

The dragon king remained silent for a moment, his gaze moving slowly across the room before settling back on Liiel.

She stopped me from burning this hall to the ground, he said finally.

His voice was calm, but carried an edge of steel.

While the rest of you stood by and watched, a tense silence followed his words.

The high priestess’s expression tightened, but she did not back down.

My king, we do not know what she truly is.

There are old records, warnings about those who carry no scent.

Some texts speak of them as harbingers of great change or great destruction.

We cannot risk the safety of the kingdom on someone we know nothing about.

Lel took a small step forward.

I did not ask to be brought into this, she said, her voice steady.

I was content living far from the court and its politics.

But last night I saw what your ritual was doing to that wolf you bound.

I saw what would have happened if I had done nothing.

She looked around the room.

So I acted.

If that makes me a threat in your eyes, then so be it.

Several of the nobles shifted uncomfortably.

A few looked at her with something close to reluctant respect.

The Dragon King finally spoke again, his voice cutting through the tension.

Liriel Voss will remain under my protection.

Anyone who moves against her moves against me.

His golden eyes swept across the room, cold and unyielding.

Is that understood? No one answered, but no one openly challenged him either.

The high priestess’s face remained calm, but Luriel could see the calculation behind her eyes.

This was not over.

The priestess had simply been forced to retreat for now.

The dragon king turned his attention back to Lurel.

Come with me, he said.

There is something we need to discuss in private.

He turned and walked toward a side door without waiting for a response.

Lurel followed him, feeling the weight of the room’s stairs on her back [clears throat] as she left.

Once they were alone in a smaller chamber, the dragon king closed the door behind them and turned to face her.

You handled that well, he said quietly.

Lurel looked at him.

I didn’t do it for them.

I know.

He studied her for a moment.

But whether you like it or not, you are no longer invisible.

The court has seen what you can do.

And the priestess will not stop until she either controls you or removes you.

Liel was quiet for a few seconds before speaking.

I’m not afraid of her.

The Dragon King’s expression softened slightly.

You should be, he said.

But I will not let her touch you.

Lurel held his gaze for the first time.

She did not feel like she was standing in front of a dangerous, uncontrollable king.

She felt like she was standing in front of a man who was choosing for the first time in a long while to stand beside someone instead of above them.

And that realization unsettled her more than she expected.

After leaving the war room, the dragon king led Liiel down a quieter corridor away from the main halls.

He did not speak at first, and Liel was grateful for the silence.

Her mind was still turning over everything that had just happened, the accusations from the high priestess, the divided reactions of the court, and the way the dragon king had publicly defended her.

Eventually, he stopped in front of a small balcony overlooking the eastern gardens.

The morning light was pale and cold, and a thin layer of snow still covered the ground below.

The dragon king leaned against the stone railing and looked out at the snow-covered trees.

You did well in there, he said after a moment.

His voice was quieter now, without the weight of an audience.

Lurel stood a short distance away, her arms crossed over her chest against the cold.

I only spoke the truth, she replied.

That doesn’t always work in my favor.

The dragon king glanced at her, a faint, almost tired smile touching his lips.

In this court, the truth is often the most dangerous thing you can say.

Liel looked out at the gardens.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The only sound was the soft wind moving through the trees.

After some time, she broke the silence.

Why did you defend me so openly? She asked.

You could have handled it more carefully.

Now the priestess sees me as a direct threat to her power.

The dragon king was quiet for a moment before answering.

Because I am tired of lies, he said.

And because you are the first person in a very long time who has been able to reach me when the curse takes hold.

He turned his head slightly to look at her.

I will not pretend otherwise just to keep the peace with the temple.

Liel studied his face.

There was exhaustion in his eyes, but also a quiet determination she had not seen before.

You’re risking a lot by keeping me close, she said.

I know.

He looked back out at the snow.

But I have already risked everything by trying to control this curse alone.

It has not worked.

Perhaps it is time I tried something different.

Li was silent for a while.

She thought about how easily the court had been willing to use others to manage the dragon king’s instability.

She thought about the fear and suspicion she had seen in their eyes when they looked at her.

And she thought about the strange power that continued to stir inside her, the one that made her feel both powerful and deeply afraid.

I’m not sure I can be what you need, she said quietly.

The dragon king turned to face her fully.

You don’t have to be anything other than what you are.

He said, I am not asking you to save me, Liel.

I am asking you to stand beside me while I try not to destroy everything else.

His words settled over her with unexpected weight.

Liel looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The man who had once been nothing more than a distant, terrifying figure in her life was now standing in front of her, speaking with an honesty she had not expected.

She felt something shift inside her chest.

It was not trust, not fully, but it was no longer pure resentment either.

The dragon king seemed to sense the change in her.

He took a small step closer, though he was careful not to crowd her.

I know this is not the life you chose, he said.

And I know I am part of the reason you had to leave everything behind 3 years ago, but I am asking you now stay.

Not because I command it, but because I believe we might be able to face this together.

Lay held his gaze for the first time since she had returned to the palace.

She did not feel like she was being pulled along by forces beyond her control.

She felt like she had a choice, and that realization was both terrifying and strangely freeing.

After a long moment, she gave a small nod.

I’ll stay, she said.

But I will not be used.

Not by you and not by the temple.

The dragon king’s golden eyes softened slightly.

Understood.

They stood there together in the cold morning air, the snow falling gently around them.

For the first time, the silence between them did not feel like a wall.

It felt like the beginning of something neither of them had words for yet.

The final confrontation came 3 days later.

The curse had reached its peak.

Several districts in the capital had fallen into chaos, and the Dragon King’s control over his own power was slipping faster than ever.

The High Priestess had grown desperate.

In her final attempt to maintain control, she had convinced several members of the royal council that Liiel was the true source of the instability, that her presence was feeding the curse rather than fighting it.

That morning, the dragon king called for a gathering in the great hall.

Luriel stood beside him as the nobles and priests filled the room.

The atmosphere was tense.

The high priestess stood at the front of the crowd, her expression calm, but her eyes sharp with calculation.

She spoke first.

My king, she said, her voice echoing through the hall.

We have been patient, but the evidence is clear.

Ever since this girl returned, the curse has only grown stronger.

She claims to help you, yet every time she uses her power, the corruption spreads further.

We cannot allow her to remain.

Several nobles nodded in agreement.

Others looked uncertain.

The dragon king remained silent for a moment, his golden eyes sweeping across the room.

Then he spoke.

You are wrong.

His voice was calm, but it carried through the hall like a blade.

Liel glanced at him, surprised by the certainty in his tone.

The dragon king continued, Three years ago, I rejected the one person whose blood could have helped contain this curse.

I let fear and pride guide me.

And because of that, the seal broke.

He looked directly at the high priestess.

You knew about the old warnings.

You knew what her bloodline could do.

But instead of telling me the truth, you chose to keep me unstable so the temple could maintain its power over me.

A wave of murmurss spread through the crowd.

The high priestess’s face tightened.

My king, these are dangerous accusations.

They are the truth.

The dragon king cut in.

He turned to face the entire court.

Lurel Voss has done more to help this kingdom in the past few days than the temple has done in years, and I will not stand by while you try to destroy the only person who can help us survive what is coming.

He stepped closer to Liel and in front of everyone took her hand.

The gesture was simple, but its meaning was clear.

Liel felt the eyes of the entire court on them.

Some looked shocked, others looked afraid, but a few particularly.

The older nobles looked as though they were finally understanding something they had long tried to ignore.

The dragon king looked at her, his golden eyes steady.

I once stood in this very hall and declared you unworthy, he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

I was wrong.

And I will not make that mistake again.

Liel held his gaze.

In that moment, she saw the man beneath the title, the one who had carried the weight of his curse alone for too long, and who was now choosing, despite everything, to stand beside her.

She squeezed his hand once, then turned to face the court.

I am not here to take power from anyone, she said clearly.

But I will not be used as a scapegoat either.

The curse is ancient.

It was never meant to be controlled through fear or blood sacrifice.

If you want to survive what is coming, then stop trying to destroy the only thing that might actually help.

The High Priestess’s face twisted with rage.

You will regret this.

She hissed.

Before anyone could react, she raised her hand.

A wave of dark, corrupted energy surged toward Liel.

The final desperate act of someone who knew she was losing.

Lurel reacted on instinct.

She stepped forward and raised her hand.

Silver light burst from her palm, meeting the dark energy head on.

The two forces collided in the center of the hall with a deafening crack.

For several long seconds, the light and darkness struggled against each other.

Then slowly, the silver light began to push back.

The corrupted energy shattered like glass, dissolving into nothing.

The high priestess stumbled backward, her eyes wide with shock.

Luriel stood tall, silver light still faintly glowing around her hands.

She looked at the priestess with cold, steady eyes.

You have spent years feeding on his pain, she said quietly.

That ends today.

The dragon king stepped forward and placed a protective hand on Liel’s shoulder.

He looked out at the court, his voice carrying across the hall.

From this day forward, Liel Voss stands at my side.

Not as a tool, not as a subject, but as someone this kingdom owes a great debt to.

Anyone who moves against her will answer to me.

No one spoke.

The high priestess was eventually taken away by the guards.

The court remained in stunned silence.

Later that evening, Lurel stood alone on the balcony outside the Dragon King’s private chambers, looking out at the recovering city.

The worst of the curse had already begun to recede.

The howls in the distance were growing quieter.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned.

The dragon king walked over and stood beside her.

For a while, they simply looked out at the snowcovered kingdom together.

You didn’t have to defend me so openly.

Luriel said quietly.

I did, he replied.

Because I meant every word, he turned to face her.

His golden eyes were softer than she had ever seen them.

I once believed that strength meant standing alone, he said.

That caring for someone would only make me weaker.

He reached out and gently took her hand.

I was wrong about that, too.

Lurel looked at their joined hands, then up at him.

I’m still not sure I can forgive everything that happened 3 years ago, she said honestly.

I don’t expect you to, the Dragon King answered.

But I will spend however long it takes proving that I am no longer the man who rejected you.

Liel studied him for a long moment.

Then, for the first time, she gave him a small, genuine smile.

That might take a while.

The Dragon King smiled back.

A rare, tired, but real smile.

I have time.

They stood together in the cold night air, the weight of the past still between them, but no longer as heavy as it once was.

Below them, the kingdom slowly began to heal.

And for the first time in years, Liel did not feel like a ghost.

She felt like someone who had finally chosen to stop running and had found something worth staying

Derechos de autor: La obsesión del alfa