Eternal flame

Chapter 6

The king’s summons came as abruptly as a thunderclap in the quiet. I was in the armory, sharpening my blade, when one of the guards approached, his steps brisk, his expression unreadable.

“Dragonfire,” he said, standing stiffly at attention. “The king requests your presence in the main hall. He has an assignment for you.”

I set the blade down, the hum of the serum stirring faintly as I stood. The weight of the helmet pressed against my mind, sharpening my focus. “Lead the way.”

The halls of the fortress were alive with the murmur of soldiers and advisors preparing for the inevitable clash with the Berkians. But as I entered the grand chamber, I found it almost eerily quiet. The king sat on his ornate throne, Pitch standing at his side with his usual smirk, while Grimmel lingered in the shadows, his eyes gleaming with calculating interest.

Elsa stood a few paces from the throne, her posture composed, though her expression was distant, almost troubled.

“Dragonfire,” the king said, his voice measured. “Elsa has requested a walk through the gardens to clear her thoughts. Given the… precariousness of our situation, I have decided she will not go alone.”

I glanced at Elsa, who remained silent, her eyes avoiding mine. “You want me to guard her,” I stated.

“Precisely,” the king replied. “You will ensure no harm comes to her. Stay within sight at all times.”

Pitch chuckled softly, his grin widening. “Think of it as a chance to prove that all that serum and steel hasn’t dulled your manners.”

I ignored him, focusing on the king. “Understood. When does she leave?”

“Now,” Elsa said, her voice calm but firm. She turned and started toward the doors without waiting for further instruction.

I hesitated for a moment, then followed, the echo of my boots against the stone floor trailing behind her.

The air outside the fortress was crisp, laced with the faint scent of frost and earth. The gardens were a stark contrast to the militarized corridors within—wild, yet carefully tended. Branches intertwined with frost-coated vines, and the winter roses bloomed defiantly despite the cold. Elsa moved silently ahead of me, her steps deliberate but unhurried.

For a time, we walked in silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath our boots. My hand rested lightly on the hilt of my blade, the weight of my duty pressing against my every move. She finally stopped near a frozen fountain, her gaze fixed on the statue of a winged beast frozen mid-flight.

“You’re uncomfortable,” she said without looking at me.

“It’s not my place to feel comfort or discomfort,” I replied. “My orders are to ensure your safety.”

She turned her head slightly, her pale blue eyes catching the light. “You’ve always been so rigid, Dragonfire. Do you ever allow yourself to just be?”

I didn’t answer immediately. “The serum doesn’t leave much room for that,” I said eventually, my voice low. “Focus. Precision. Strength. That’s what it gives.”

“And what does it take?”

I stiffened, caught off guard by the question. “That’s not important.”

“Maybe it should be,” she murmured, her fingers brushing the frosted edge of the fountain. “Pitch burdens you with more than most. He expects you to carry the weight without breaking. But even steel can fracture.”

“I’m not steel,” I said, almost reflexively. “I’m Dragonfire.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, searching for something I couldn’t name. “You weren’t always,” she said softly, turning away again to continue walking.