The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 138: Vengeance

Chapter 138: Vengeance

>>Aelin

Her body lay twisted but still breathing, strands of her dark hair splayed across her face, the gold from her robe ripped and dust-covered. Blood stained her sleeve. Her lip was split. There were gashes along her arms and deep bruises blooming across her collarbone.

But I would have recognized her anywhere.

That sharp, proud face.

Those eyes — even though they were dazed now — eyes that used to look at me like I was something less than a speck.

Alishay.

My stomach plummeted.

Her body lay half-crumpled, arm braced against the earth as she slowly lifted herself onto one knee. Her long black hair was tangled, her once-elegant armor scuffed and marred by claw marks.

The air crackled.

It was like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Alishay stood fully now, pushing her hair back from her face, her cold eyes sweeping the clearing like a curse. Her lips curled up in a cruel smile.

And then, the world seemed to still—

Because I felt him before I saw him.

Heat.

Power.

Rage.

Draegon.

He stepped out from the tree line, emerging like a storm barely held together. His clothes were scratched, one of his horns bloodied near the base, but his presence... it swallowed the battlefield whole.

I don’t know if he saw me. I don’t know if he even saw the monsters surrounding us anymore. Because when his gaze locked on her, nothing else seemed to matter.

"Alishay."

He said her name like a sin.

She turned toward him, smile widening. "Hehe, this was a nice greeting." She was referring to how she he had beaten his ass, "But this is it. We’re turning it around." She was confident she could beat him.

And that was it. No more words. No mercy.

They lunged at the same time—colliding with enough force that the ground beneath them cracked.

Draegon’s long claws moved like a blur, molten-red sparks flying as he drove forward in a sharp arc. Alishay blocked it with a twisting motion of her own dragon claws, their weapons shrieking as they clashed.

I couldn’t look away.

Alishay’s movements were fast—faster than I remembered. Her power, corrupted by the Abyss, hissed and writhed around her like smoke made solid. She moved with dark elegance, sharp, brutal, unpredictable.

But Draegon...

He was on fire.

Literally.

Flames licked around his arms, dancing along his knuckles. He moved with brutal precision, every strike meant to kill, every movement fueled by fury.

They clashed again and again— fire against shadow, brother against sister.

And for all her strength, all her speed and abyss-enhanced reflexes—she was losing.

Because Draegon wasn’t fighting like a soldier anymore.

He was fighting like a father.

Like a man who had lost everything and found the person responsible standing right in front of him.

Looking at him made my eyes sting. But I didn’t let my tears fall

Every hit he landed sent Alishay staggering back.

She screamed and struck out with a pulse of black magic, spikes of shadow hurling toward him from the ground. Draegon leapt over them and retaliated with a blast of fire from his mouth, searing through the air and forcing her to roll away.

The forest around them lit up with bursts of fire and shadow.

I could feel the heat against my face, smell the scorched earth.

Alishay snarled, throwing a dagger made of darkness at him—it flew like a spear, aimed straight for his heart.

He batted it away with a roar, charging forward. He didn’t stop.

His blade attack across her shoulder—blood, dark and corrupted, splattered to the ground.

She cried out, barely dodging his next blow, but it grazed her side, tearing through her armor.

He wasn’t speaking. Not a single word.

And somehow... that was worse.

This wasn’t rage born from hate. It was rage born from betrayal. From grief.

From loss.

Alishay staggered back, breathing hard, her hand trembling now. Her shadows tried to rise again, but they were slower—sluggish even. Her magic had limits.

Draegon’s did not.

He lunged again—flames roaring around him—and she barely blocked in time, her knees buckling under the weight of his strike. Her feet dug into the ground as he pushed her back with raw force.

She coughed, spitting black blood.

"Still holding a grudge?" she rasped with a mocking grin.

Draegon’s eyes burned brighter. "You killed my daughter."

He brought his long claws down again—and her black claws cracked under the blow, breaking in half.

She fell to one knee.

And for a moment, it looked like he might end it right there.

But I saw him pause—just for a breath.

Because beneath all the fury and fire, this was still his sister.

"Why?" he asked her

But Alishay used that hesitation. With a scream of rage, she threw a pulse of black power into the ground, erupting the dirt beneath Draegon’s feet. It threw him back a few paces—he skidded, but stayed on his feet.

They stared at each other across the burning clearing.

She was bleeding.

He was panting.

And I stood frozen, watching the two siblings clash again and again.

Something about that made my heart ache. Because I knew what it cost him to fight her like this. I knew now that he was hurt too

Because there was no room for mercy. Not anymore.

Not after Asha.

The battlefield was a blur of chaos. They continued to fight, just like the others and soon vanished into the thick forest again.

I turned to look at the others.

Draken and Vesper were gone too, they probably ended up fighting with the enemy into the forest as well.

Flashes of fire. Screams. The hiss of shadow-magic tearing through air.

I can’t stand idly, I should do something as well

My heart pounded as I turned, my boots scraping against the blood-soaked earth. The air was thick with the stench of ash and rot. A soldier cried out nearby—a young demon with cracked armor and wide eyes—as an abyss creature barreled toward him, jagged limbs twisting in impossible angles, its gaping maw wide open to devour.

He wasn’t going to make it.

"Move!" I shouted, but he was frozen in terror.

I didn’t think. I just acted.

I lifted my palm, heart thundering in my ears, and focused.

The moment I did, it appeared again.

That golden thread of light—thin and glowing—stretched from my palm and latched onto the monster’s face, right at the bridge of its flat, twitching nose. Only I could see it. I knew that. Just like before.

I casted the spell in my heart, Fast

And then—the flame.

Golden-white fire bloomed from my hand, traveling along the thread in a bright burst of light that looked almost too beautiful for a battlefield.

The flame slammed into the creature’s face—and burned through it with deadly precision. It didn’t scream. There was no time. The light reached its core and—

Boom.

A muted implosion.

The creature jerked once and collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

The soldier beneath it scrambled back, shaking, staring at the sudden corpse with disbelief. His wide, terrified eyes met mine—he wasn’t just shocked, he was grateful. His mouth opened, closed, then bowed his head in wordless thanks.

Something stirred in my chest.

Pride? Hope? I didn’t know. But it was warm. And strong.

I exhaled slowly. I did that.

I turned toward the battlefield again. Soldiers struggling. Shadows encroaching. Abyss creatures snarling and lashing through our lines. I raised my palm again. Another thread of golden light shimmered into view, connecting to another monster mid-charge.

I can help.