The Dragon's Due: A Warrior Princess's Reckoning

By Lyssa Cole and AI (Editor)

A kingdom fractured. A princess exiled. A pact broken.
Princess Elysia inherits not a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns.  Eldoria, her kingdom carved from sapphire mountains and emerald valleys, teeters on the brink of ruin, bound by an ancient, terrifying pact with the mighty Solara dragons.  When her ambitious cousin, Prince Regulus, seizes the throne in a bloody coup, Elysia barely escapes with her life, fleeing into the unforgiving embrace of the Dark Forests.
Guided by the stoic Hunter Kennedy, a man haunted by a past as dark as the forest itself, Elysia discovers a secret history – a bitter rivalry between the Solara, guardians of light, and the Obsidian Claws, dragons of shadow and rage.  This ancient feud, etched into the very fabric of Eldoria, echoes within Elysia's own blood, a legacy both magnificent and terrifying.
Within the forest's depths, Elysia encounters Zarthus, the dragon elder, whose amethyst scales shimmer with the wisdom of ages. He reveals the existence of the Sunstone, a relic shrouded in myth, a key to a devastating truth that Regulus desperately seeks – a truth that could shatter the realms.
As Regulus unleashes a reign of terror, fueled by the Obsidian Claws’ fury, Elysia must forge unlikely alliances. She finds strength in the Sylvans, a nomadic people whose lives intertwine with the forest’s rhythms, and in Jennifer Silva, a Sylvan warrior scarred by the Obsidian Claws’ brutality, whose loyalty burns bright against the encroaching darkness.
But whispers of treachery slither through Elysia's ranks, and the dragon pact, once a source of immense power, begins to twist within her, mirroring the Obsidian Claws' insatiable hunger.  The Sunstone reveals a horrifying secret: the dragons are not guardians, but prisoners, bound by an ancient curse. Elysia’s quest for vengeance transforms into a desperate fight for liberation – not just for her kingdom, but for all the realms.
To break the curse, Elysia must confront not only Regulus and his Obsidian Claw allies, but also the darkness within herself.  She must make the ultimate sacrifice, relinquish the very power that defines her, and embrace a destiny far greater than the throne she has lost.  In the heart of a final, devastating battle, amidst the ruins of a Sylvan city, Elysia will choose between perpetuating a cycle of suffering and forging a new path – a path of understanding, compassion, and ultimately, hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Nov 7, 2024

Book preview

Prologue

A shard of ice pierced Anya's heart, its jagged edges tearing through the familiar rhythm of the elder's chant. The sacred grove, bathed in perpetual twilight, trembled with an ancient disquiet that set her teeth on edge. Concealed among the gnarled roots of a sentinel oak, she watched the Verdant Oracle pulse with an otherworldly luminescence, its colossal trunk casting emerald shadows that danced across the forest floor like phantoms caught between worlds.

The Sylvan elder knelt before the ancient tree, her silver hair a cascade of moonlight against her weathered skin. Each line etched into her face spoke of seasons witnessed, wisdom earned through centuries of communion with the forest's deepest mysteries. Her voice, melodic and low, wove through the branches overhead, a harmony that had soothed Anya's spirit countless times before. But tonight, something darker threaded through the familiar cadence, a discordant note that made the very air shiver with foreboding.

Glyphs of a forgotten language spiraled up the Oracle's bark, their edges sharp as broken glass against the soft phosphorescence that emanated from within. These ancient markings, older than the Sapphire Mountains themselves, held secrets that even the eldest of the Sylvan people dared not speak aloud. Anya's fingers traced the matching patterns inked into her own skin, an unconscious gesture that drew comfort from the connection to her heritage, to the whispers of the forest that had guided her people since time immemorial.

The elder's chant faltered, her breath catching on a syllable that hung in the air like frost. The Oracle's light intensified, bleeding from emerald to amethyst, casting strange shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own. Anya's muscles tensed, every instinct honed by years of tracking through these twilight woods screaming at her to flee. Yet she remained, transfixed by the terror and wonder unfolding before her.

From the heartwood of the ancient tree, tendrils of light spun outward, weaving patterns in the air that burned themselves into Anya's vision. These were not the gentle illuminations of prophecy she had witnessed before, but violent eruptions of power that crackled with an electric intensity. The whispers of the forest, usually no more than a gentle rustling of leaves, rose to a crescendo of voices that spoke in languages both ancient and terrible.

They spoke of a crown shattered by betrayal, its fragments scattered like stars across a blood-stained sky. They spoke of dragons, their mighty wings bound by chains of light and shadow, their spirits twisted by an ancient curse that echoed through the Elder Realms. They spoke of a serpent that coiled through the roots of power, its scales glittering with the reflected light of broken promises and corrupted oaths.

The elder swayed, her frail body a conduit for visions that threatened to overwhelm her mortal form. Across her face, images flickered like lightning: obsidian talons tearing at the fabric of reality, a young woman with eyes that held both starlight and sorrow, a blade that dripped with the golden blood of dragons. Each vision was accompanied by a surge of power that made the air taste of metal and magic, ancient and raw.

A wind that carried no natural origin howled through the grove, yanking leaves from branches and sending them spinning in violent eddies around the Oracle's trunk. The glyphs carved into its bark began to bleed light, their edges blurring as if the very substance of reality was coming undone. Anya pressed herself closer to the ground, her heart thundering against her ribs as waves of power rolled over her, each one carrying whispers of destruction and renewal, of endings and beginnings too vast for mortal comprehension.

The elder's voice rose above the tempest, no longer melodic but sharp with command, speaking words that seemed to catch fire in the air: The balance fractures, the chains that bind light to shadow begin to break. The curse that was wrought in ancient blood seeks its resolution in the hearts of those yet unborn. The liberator approaches, carrying both salvation and sacrifice in hands unmarked by time.

The Oracle's light pulsed once more, a blinding flash that forced Anya to shield her eyes. When she looked again, the elder lay crumpled at the tree's base, her breath coming in ragged gasps that spoke of the toll such visions extracted. The whispers of the forest had subsided to their usual gentle murmur, but now they carried an undertone of urgency that made Anya's skin prickle with apprehension.

She emerged from her hiding place, moving with the silent grace that marked her as one of the forest's chosen scouts. The ground beneath her feet thrummed with residual power, each step sending tiny shocks through her body that spoke of magics too ancient to name. Kneeling beside the elder, Anya gently touched her shoulder, feeling the tremors that still ran through the older woman's frame.

Grandmother, she whispered, the familiar title carrying all the weight of her concern and fear. What has the Oracle shown you?

The elder's eyes opened slowly, their depths clouded with the aftermath of visions too vast for mortal minds to fully comprehend. Her gaze fixed on Anya with an intensity that made the young scout want to look away, but she held firm, knowing the importance of this moment.

The seal breaks, the elder rasped, her voice carrying echoes of the power that had moved through her. The dragon curse, bound in the blood of ancient kings, begins to unravel. The balance that has held for millennia teeters on the edge of chaos.

Anya's fingers tightened unconsciously on the elder's shoulder, her mind racing with the implications of these words. The dragon curse was not merely legend then, but a living force that shaped the very fabric of their world. What must we do? she asked, her voice barely a whisper against the forest's breathing.

The elder's hand rose, trembling but sure, to trace the patterns inked into Anya's skin. Each line and whorl held meaning, stories passed down through generations of their people, recording truths too dangerous to speak aloud. We must prepare, she said, her voice growing stronger. The forest whispers of a warrior princess with dragon's blood in her veins, one who carries both the power to heal and the potential to destroy. She will need guides in the darkness that comes, those who know the ancient paths and the secrets they hold.

A cool breeze whispered through the grove, carrying with it the scent of pine and prophecy. The Oracle's light had dimmed to a soft glow, but the glyphs still pulsed with a subtle radiance that spoke of powers stirring in the depths of the Elder Realms. Anya felt the weight of destiny settle around her shoulders like a cloak of thorns, understanding without words that her role in the coming events would be both crucial and dangerous.

The Obsidian Claws stir in their caves of shadow, the elder continued, her words carrying the weight of certainty. Their rage, bound for centuries by the curse that chains all dragonkind, grows stronger with each passing moon. They sense the approaching change, the possibility of freedom, and their hunger for vengeance threatens to consume all in its path.

Anya rose, her movements fluid with the grace of one born to the twilight realm of the Dark Forests. Above them, the ancient branches of the Oracle swayed in a wind that carried whispers of battles yet to come, of choices that would reshape the very foundation of their world. She knew, with the bone-deep certainty of one attuned to the forest's deepest mysteries, that the peace they had known was drawing to an end.

Then we shall be ready, she declared, her voice carrying the strength of her conviction. When this warrior princess emerges from the shadows of betrayal, she will find allies among the people of the twilight. The ancient paths will open to her, and the wisdom of the forest will guide her steps.

The elder smiled, a expression that held both pride and sorrow in equal measure. Yes, she agreed, her voice carrying the weight of prophecy. But remember, child of the twilight, that the path of destiny is never straight, and the price of freedom is often paid in coin of blood and tears.

Anya lifted her face to the canopy above, where patches of star-filled sky peeked through the eternal twilight of their realm. The Oracle's light painted patterns across her skin, making the sacred markings seem to move with a life of their own. In that moment, she felt the full weight of the changes that approached, the magnitude of the struggle that would soon engulf their world.

The time of whispers was ending. The age of action approached on wings of fire and shadow, carrying with it the potential for both salvation and destruction. The forest held its breath, waiting for the moment when ancient curses would break and dragons would once again soar unfettered through skies too long empty of their majesty.

In the heart of the Dark Forests, beneath the watching eyes of the Verdant Oracle, Anya made a silent vow. Whatever storms approached, whatever battles loomed on the horizon, she would be ready. The warrior princess would not walk her path alone, for the children of twilight had long memories and longer shadows, and some oaths transcended the barriers of time itself.

The last echoes of prophecy faded into the eternal twilight, leaving behind a silence pregnant with possibility and peril. The dance of destiny had begun, its steps marked by the pulse of dragon blood and the whispers of ancient trees. The world held its breath, waiting for the moment when everything would change, when the balance of power would shift, and the age of dragons would either end or begin anew.

Chapter 1: The Gilded Cage

Crystalline light fractured through stained glass panels, casting prismatic patterns across pristine marble floors. In her private solarium, Elysia traced the shifting kaleidoscope with fingertips that trembled despite her efforts at composure. The eastern chamber, reserved for contemplation and study, offered momentary sanctuary from the mounting pressures of court life. Here, amidst delicate ferns and climbing moonvines, she could breathe without the weight of expectations crushing her chest.

Your Highness. The title floated across the verdant sanctuary, carried by Lord Valerius's measured tones. I thought I might find you seeking solitude.

Turning from her vigil at the glass, Elysia met her advisor's steady gaze. Years of counsel had etched lines of wisdom around eyes that missed nothing, though his shoulders now bore a slight stoop