Chapter 4 - THE SUNKEN CITADEL
Two weeks later, the trio reached the edge of the Frostfall Abyss—a massive, mist-shrouded crater deep within the dead lands. Built into the walls of the subterranean cliff was the Sunken Citadel, a massive fortress of black basalt that had remained hidden from the world for centuries.
As they descended the ancient stone staircase carved into the canyon wall, armored guardians stepped out from the shadows. Unlike the king's soldiers, these warriors wore armor crafted from dragon bone and forged steel, their eyes gleaming with magical resonance.
“Hold,” the lead guardian commanded, his spear aimed at Corvus’s chest. “None enter the Citadel without the blood test.”
Corvus stepped back, pointing toward Elara.
Elara stepped forward, holding Aurelia in her arms. The baby dragon cocked her head, curiosity overtaking her usual caution. She let out a small, melodious chirp.
The lead guardian dropped his spear. His eyes widened as he saw the silver scales glistening on the hatchling’s neck and the unmistakable emerald glow in Elara’s eyes. He immediately dropped to one knee, followed by the twenty guards behind him.
“The Royal Line of Valen-Rha has returned,” the guardian announced, his voice trembling with reverent emotion. “Welcome home, High Queen.”
They were led into the heart of the citadel, a massive cavern illuminated by floating orbs of everlasting dragon-fire. Thousands of people lived here—refugees, ancient scholars, elemental mages, and descendants of the dragon-shifters who had fled the ancient purges.
In the central hall, Elara was met by High Commander Therond, a battle-hardened shifter with scars traversing his jaw and a massive greatsword strapped to his back.
“We heard rumors of what happened at the Dragon Pit of Oakenvale,” Therond said, gesturing for Elara to sit at a stone table laden with warm food and wine. “We thought it was royal propaganda designed to justify another hunt. We never imagined a true Royal Hatchling had been born.”
“Aldric stole my child, tried to kill us both, and framed me for dark sorcery,” Elara said, her voice steady as she fed small pieces of roasted meat to Aurelia. “He rules by fear and deception.”
“He rules because he controls the dragon-slayer ballistas,” Therond corrected grimly. “The capital is fortified with ancient siege weapons that can tear a full-grown dragon from the sky. Even if your child matures, a frontal attack on Oakenvale would be suicide.”
“Then we don't attack frontally,” Corvus interjected, unrolling a large parchment map of the capital on the table. “Aldric’s authority is crumbling. The nobles are suspicious after the public execution went wrong. They saw the bracelet. They saw the eyes.”
“Suspicion isn't enough to overthrow a king with ten thousand loyal spears,” Therond argued.
Elara leaned over the map, her fingers tracing the underground tunnels beneath the capital. “He built his power on a lie. We destroy the lie, and the army will turn on him.”
She pointed to the lowest point of the castle plans—the catacombs beneath the throne room.
“There is something else in those tunnels,” Elara said, her memory flashing back to her night in the dungeon. “Before they dragged me to the pit, I heard something ancient roaring beneath the bedrock. Aldric isn't just afraid of dragon-shifters. He’s hiding something down there.”
Therond looked at her, impressed by her cold tactical focus. “The Primordial Vault. Legend says the first dragon king was sealed beneath the foundation of Oakenvale. If Aldric has been tapping into its dormant energy to empower his siege weapons, he is playing with forces that could burn the entire continent.”
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Aurelia let out a sharp bark, her wings spreading wide as if agreeing with the commander.
Elara locked eyes with Therond. “Gather your warriors, Commander. We are going back to Oakenvale. Not as fugitives... but as conquerors.”
