The he gates of the Dragon Nest slammed shut behind them with a boom that resonated in Simon's chest like a war drum. The sound was final, sealing them inside the crater of the active volcano.
If the Scorch Lands had been an oven, the city of Ignis was a blast furnace.
The city was carved directly into the inner walls of the caldera. There were no delicate spires of pearl or rustic timber cabins here. Everything was built from black obsidian, reinforced with red iron that glowed from the ambient heat. Bridges made of massive chains spanned the central pit, where a lake of churning, molten lava bubbled a thousand feet below, casting a hellish, flickering red light over the entire civilization.
The noise was deafening. Hammers rang against anvils. Steam hissed from vents. And underneath it all was the low, rhythmic thrum of the mountain itself the heartbeat of the earth.
"Welcome to the fire pit," Peace shouted over the roar of a nearby steam vent. She didn't look back, marching across a narrow stone walkway that had no guardrails.
Simon followed, his boots smoking slightly with every step. The heat was oppressive, heavy enough to weigh down his shoulders. Beside him, Evelyn was struggling. The "Breath of the Sea" bubble around her head protected her lungs, but her skin was flushed a deep, alarming red. She leaned into Simon, her hand gripping his arm for stability.
Joanna was faring worse. The mermaid princess was hunched over, clutching the silver hydration collar around her neck as if it were strangling her. Her skin had taken on a grey, dusty quality.
"I need... shade," Joanna wheezed, her voice raspy. "I'm going to... evaporate."
"Keep moving," Peace snapped, glancing over her shoulder. "Weakness is not pitied here, Fish. It is incinerated."
"She's not weak," Simon growled, his voice deepening into the dual-tone of the Dragon-Wolf. "She's out of her element. Just as you would be drowning in the Trench."
Peace stopped. She turned slowly, her copper-gold hair whipping around her face. She looked at Simon, then at Joanna. With a scoff, she raised her hand. She didn't cast a spell, but she twisted her fingers.
A nearby vent diverted its flow, sending a blast of thick, sulfurous steam directly at Joanna.
Joanna shrieked as the cloud hit her, but the scream quickly turned into a sigh of relief. The steam was moisture. It wasn't cool, but it was wet. Her skin absorbed it greedily, the grey fading back to a pale green.
"Don't get used to it," Peace muttered, turning back around. "The King is waiting."
The Royal Keep was not a palace; it was a fortress perched on a jagged outcropping of rock that hung precariously over the central lava lake. To reach it, they had to cross the "Spine" a bridge made of the interlocked vertebrae of an ancient, colossal dragon, bleached white by centuries of heat.
As they crossed, Simon looked down. The lava roiled and popped, spitting globs of molten rock into the air. The "Third Pull" in his gut was screaming now, vibrating in time with the pulses of the magma below. It wasn't painful anymore; it was exhilarating. It felt like his blood was finally reaching the right temperature.
They entered the Throne Room through massive iron doors that required four guards to push open.
The room was cavernous, open to the air on the side facing the crater. Heat billowed in, swirling with ash. At the far end, sitting on a throne made of fused swords and dragon skulls, sat King Marcus.
He was terrifying.
He was a giant of a man, his skin the color of polished bronze, covered in intricate scars that seemed to glow like embers. He wore no shirt, only a kilt of dragon-scale leather and heavy iron bracers. His hair was a mane of white fire, and his eyes... his eyes were the same vertical, burning gold slits as Simon's.
Standing beside him was Queen Josephet, a tall, severe woman with skin like dark slate and eyes like flint.
"So," Marcus rumbled. His voice didn't just carry across the room; it shook the floorboards. "The Mongrel returns."
Simon stepped forward, leaving Evelyn and Joanna near the entrance. He walked until he was at the foot of the dais. He didn't bow. Wolves bowed. Dragons stood tall.
"I am not a mongrel," Simon stated, his voice steady. "I am the Tribrid. And I have come for your fire."
Marcus laughed. It was a harsh, grinding sound, like boulders crushing together. He stood up, descending the steps of the dais. The temperature in the room spiked.
"You come for my fire?" Marcus sneered, circling Simon. He sniffed the air. "You smell of wet dog and salt water. You reek of the things that extinguish flame. You think because you have a few gold scales on your chest that you are one of us?"
"I am your blood," Simon challenged, looking the King in the eye. "Grandmother Sofia recognized me. Why won't you?"
"My mother has a soft spot for strays," Marcus spat. "She sees the potential in the mix. I see the dilution. A dragon's power comes from purity, boy. From rage. From the ability to burn the world down and sleep on the ashes. You..." He poked Simon hard in the chest. "You are too busy trying to save everyone. A Dragon doesn't save. A Dragon conquers."
"The Void isn't something you can conquer," Simon argued. "It's something that eats conquerors. I saw the Eye, Marcus. It's watching us. If we don't unite the kingdoms, your fire will be the first to go out."
Marcus stopped. He looked at Peace, who was standing by the door, arms crossed. "Is this true, daughter? Did the Fish and the Wolf close a breach?"
"They did," Peace admitted, though she looked annoyed to say it. "With Starlight. And the Wolf... he roared. He used the Voice to command the Ash Stalkers."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. He looked back at Simon, a flicker of interest in his gaze.
"You used the Voice?" Marcus asked quietly.
"I told them to kneel," Simon said. "And they did."
Marcus hummed, a low vibration in his chest. "Any lizard can roar. But to command the Stalkers... that requires the King's Resonance."
He walked back to his throne and sat down, stroking his chin. "Very well. You claim to be a Dragon. You claim to have the fire to fight the Void. But words are wind, and wind feeds the flame or blows it out. We shall see which you are."
He slammed his fist onto the armrest of his throne.
"Prepare the Trial of the Magma!"
The "Trial of the Magma" was not a metaphor.
Twenty minutes later, Simon stood stripped to the waist at the edge of a precipice behind the throne room. Below him lay a small, isolated pool of lava, fed by a direct artery from the volcano's heart. It was white-hot, bubbling sluggishly.
In the center of the pool, floating on a tiny island of unmelted obsidian, sat a single, glowing red gemstone.
The Heart of the Mountain.
"The rules are simple," King Marcus boomed, standing on the balcony above with the Queen and the terrified spectators (Evelyn and Joanna). "Retrieve the stone. If you are a Dragon, the heat will recognize you. It will embrace you. If you are a Wolf... well, wolves burn very quickly."
Evelyn rushed forward, grabbing the railing. "You can't! He'll die! That's molten rock!"
"He is a Tribrid," Marcus said coldly, not looking at her. "If he dies, then he was never meant to lead."
Joanna stepped up beside Evelyn. She looked pale, but her eyes were sharp. "Don't stop him, Star. Look at him."
Evelyn looked down.
Simon stood at the edge of the heat. He wasn't shaking. He wasn't scared.
He was glowing.
The gold veins beneath his skin were pulsing violently. The scales on his chest had spread, covering his shoulders and neck in a glittering, impenetrable armor of gold.
Simon looked at the lava. The "Third Pull" was dragging him toward it. It wasn't fear he felt. It was hunger. Just like the Ocean had called to his thirst, the Fire was calling to his cold.
'I am the balance,' Simon thought. 'Water tempers Fire. Fire warms Water. And the Wolf... the Wolf survives it all.'
He took a deep breath. He didn't jump. He walked.
He stepped off the ledge, down a narrow, crumbling path that led to the edge of the pool. The heat was unbearable. His pants began to smoke. The hair on his arms singed away instantly.
But his skin didn't burn.
He reached the edge of the lava. He looked at the stone in the center, ten feet away. There was no bridge.
"Swim, Wolf!" Peace shouted from the balcony, a strange, fierce grin on her face.
Simon looked up at her. He saw the challenge. He saw the fire in her eyes.
He stepped into the lava.
Evelyn screamed.
But Simon didn't scream.
As his foot sank into the molten rock, a hiss of steam erupted. But his flesh didn't char. The gold scales on his leg flared brighter than the sun, absorbing the thermal energy.
It hurt. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt. It wasn't the pain of injury; it was the pain of being overfilled. It felt like he was being inflated with liquid light.
He took another step. The lava was heavy, viscous like honey. It swirled around his waist.
'Too hot... too hot...' his mind panicked. The Dragon was taking over. The Rage was rising. He wanted to destroy. He wanted to burn the castle down.
'Cool him.'
It was a whisper in his mind. Not Evelyn. Not Joanna. But the memory of the Ocean.
Simon closed his eyes. He summoned the Lagoon. He visualized the cold, dark pressure of the Midnight Trench. He wrapped his internal organs in a layer of spectral ice.
Steam exploded from his pores. He was a walking reactor, balancing the absolute zero of the Void-Deep with the absolute heat of the Core.
He waded forward. The lava reached his chest. He reached the obsidian island.
He grabbed the Heart of the Mountain.
The stone was hotter than the lava. It pulsed in his hand.
Simon roared.
"ROAAAR!"
It wasn't a command this time. It was a release. A pillar of golden fire erupted from his mouth, shooting straight up into the sky, past the balcony, past the crater rim, piercing the dark clouds above.
The storm clouds shattered. For the first time in centuries, a ray of pure, unfiltered sunlight struck the city of Ignis.
Simon stood in the lava, holding the stone high. He looked like a god of the forge, encased in gold, breathing fire.
King Marcus leaned over the railing, his eyes wide. He watched the pillar of fire. He watched the boy standing in the magma.
"By the Ancestors," Marcus whispered. "He isn't just a Dragon. He's a Supernova."
Peace watched him, her grip on the railing tightening until the metal warped. Her heart a heart she had hardened against intruders, against family, against love skipped a beat.
She felt the bond snap into place. It wasn't soft like the Star. It wasn't fluid like the Ocean. It was hard. It was violent. It was inevitable.
Simon waded back to the shore. As he stepped out of the lava, the molten rock dripped off his golden scales like water. He walked up the path, leaving footprints of fire in the stone.
He reached the balcony. He walked up to King Marcus.
He dropped the Heart of the Mountain into the King's hand.
"It's warm," Simon rasped, smoke curling from his nostrils. "You might want to let it cool."
Marcus looked at the stone, then at Simon. He grinned. A terrifying, predatory grin.
"You survive," Marcus boomed. He clapped a hand on Simon's shoulder. The skin hissed, but Simon didn't flinch. "You have the fire, boy. Now... let's see if you can keep from burning my kingdom down."
Later that evening, Simon sat in the quarters assigned to them a stark, stone room with a single window overlooking the lava lake. The heat in the room was stifling, but Simon didn't feel it. He felt... balanced.
Evelyn was applying a salve to his skin, though there were no burns to heal. "You terrified me," she whispered, her hands shaking slightly. "I thought I was watching you die."
"I was never safer," Simon admitted, looking at his hands. The gold scales were receding, but a faint, metallic sheen remained. "The fire... it doesn't hurt me. It talks to me."
The door opened with a bang.
Peace stood there. She held a bottle of amber liquid and two heavy iron goblets.
She walked in, kicked the door shut behind her, and set the bottle on the table.
"You passed," she said bluntly.
"I did," Simon agreed.
Peace looked at Evelyn, then at Joanna, who was curled up in the corner with a wet towel over her head, trying to sleep.
"Get out," Peace said to the girls.
"Excuse me?" Evelyn stood up, her violet eyes flashing.
"I need to talk to him," Peace said. "Alone. Dragon business."
"I'm not leaving him with you," Evelyn said. "You threw a fireball at us yesterday."
"And he walked through lava today," Peace countered. "He's a big boy, Star. He can handle me."
Simon stood up. He touched Evelyn's arm. "It's okay. Go check on Joanna. She looks like she's about to turn into sea salt."
Evelyn hesitated, then nodded. She glared at Peace as she helped Joanna up and led her into the adjoining room.
When the door closed, Peace turned to Simon.
She didn't speak. She walked up to him. She grabbed the front of his shirt—which was charred and ruined anyway—and ripped it open.
She placed her hand on his chest, right over the golden scales that covered his heart. Her hand was scalding hot, but to Simon, it felt normal.
"You have the fire," Peace whispered, looking up at him. Her copper eyes were swirling with a chaotic mix of anger and desire. "But you don't know how to use it. You used the Ocean to shield yourself in the pit. I smelled the salt steam."
"I used what I had," Simon said.
"That won't work against the Watcher," Peace said. "The Watcher is cold. Infinite cold. If you use water, you freeze. You need pure, unadulterated rage, Simon. You need to let the Dragon consume the Wolf."
"If I do that, I lose myself," Simon said.
"Maybe," Peace stepped closer. She was so close he could feel the heat radiating off her. "Or maybe you just need someone to burn with you."
She reached up and grabbed the back of his neck. She pulled his head down.
"I don't do 'gentle'," Peace warned him, her voice a low growl. "I don't do 'sweet'. If you want the Dragon Kingdom, you take it. If you want me... you fight for it."
Simon looked at her. He saw the challenge. He saw the loneliness hidden behind the wall of fire.
"I don't want to fight you, Peace," Simon whispered. "I want to stand beside you."
"Then show me you can take the heat," she challenged.
She kissed him.
It was nothing like the kiss with Evelyn. It was violent. It was searing. It tasted of cinnamon, ash, and smoke. Her lips were hot, branding him.
Simon groaned, the Dragon inside him roaring in triumph. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him. For a moment, the room felt like it was spinning.
The Third Mate had been claimed.
But as they broke apart, breathless and eyes wild, the ground beneath them shook.
A siren began to wail throughout the city of Ignis.
Peace pulled back, her eyes snapping to the window.
"The Void," she hissed, grabbing her flame-whip from the table. "They aren't waiting for the invasion, Simon. They're here."
Simon looked out the window.
High above the crater, the red clouds were parting. But it wasn't sunlight coming through this time.
It was a black, oily tear in the sky. And descending from it were not sharks or stalkers, but winged nightmares. Void Dragons.
"The war has started," Simon said, summoning Wave-Cutter to his hand.
"Good," Peace grinned, her eyes burning. "I was getting bored."