Chapter 75 || BOUND AND TORN BY PROPHECIES
Fire in the Veins
The ballroom erupted into chaos, screams torn from the
throats of stunned nobles as half the guests transformed, their disguises
melting like smoke to reveal gleaming Neravans’ armour and burning crimson
eyes. The scent of magic ruptured the air, sulfuric and sharp, as blades hissed
free and fire crackled.
Taehyung stood in the centre, his hand still outstretched to
Jungkook, frozen for a heartbeat. Then his body trembled, magic roaring through
his veins like a storm.
"Protect the royals! Form a barrier!" bellowed the
Commander General, already half-shifting, his armour shredding to accommodate
massive wings and scaled limbs. With a sound like splitting thunder, Taehyung's
form shimmered, then exploded outward into his full dragon shape—a towering
beast of midnight scales and crackling blue flame. His roar shook the palace
foundations.
Nyla leapt into the fray, wings snapping open in a gust of
wind, her silver-white dragon form sleek and deadly. Beside her, the last loyal
Dragon Guard shifted, their bodies stretching, reshaping. Teeth and talons
answered steel.
Jungkook didn't hesitate. He dropped to one knee beside
Yoongi, whispering a quick protective incantation. Then, his mismatched eyes
flared with power as he called out,
"Mili! Spark! Niki!"
The baby dragons burst into motion—Mili, a sleek blur of yellow
and golden fire, Spark crackling with electricity, and Niki with her
mischievous, lethal charm, darting between enemies with blinding speed.
The queen was swept away by a shield of guards, her eyes
wide with genuine fear for the first time. The king stood tall, sword drawn,
though his hand trembled.
Yoongi was fighting like a shadow—quick, smart, brutal. He
wielded twin daggers coated in dragon venom, leaping and rolling with unnatural
grace.
Jungkook unleashed a dagger, a pillar of white-gold flame
that cleaved through a row of Neravans. Mili roared beside him, their bond
pulsing with raw energy.
The ballroom became a battlefield. Glass shattered. Banners
burned. The once-gilded floor was slick with ash and blood. Dragons wrestled in
midair above, crashing into balconies and tearing through the sky. Magic flared
like lightning. Screams turned into snarls.
Taehyung was at the centre, a living storm. He moved with
fury and grace, ripping through ranks of enemies. A Neravan mage attempted a
curse—Taehyung incinerated him in a heartbeat.
Nyla’s claws dug into an enemy’s neck as she rolled midair,
slamming another into a pillar. She shouted telepathically to Jungkook,
“They’re after the bond-bearers! Stay with Yoongi!”
Jungkook’s heart pounded. He gripped his sword tightly. He
was no longer a village outcast. He was a warrior, a guardian, a storm wrapped
in human skin.
Hours passed like a fever dream. The battle spilled beyond
the palace into the outer courtyards. Villagers who could not fight were
evacuated through secret tunnels. Loyalists and traitors clashed beneath the
blood-soaked moons.
When dawn’s pale light began to rise on the horizon, the
palace stood battered but standing. Fires crackled. Rubble lay where once
marble had gleamed. The Neravans had been pushed back—or slain. The price was
steep.
Taehyung landed in the courtyard, smoke rising from his
scales, his form shifting back to human with a snarl of pain. His hair was
matted with sweat and soot. Blood—some his, most not—dripped from his hands. He
looked around, wild-eyed, while covering his naked body with a piece of cloth.
“Where’s Jungkook?”
Nyla, also injured, limped over.
“He was with Yoongi... I thought... I saw him on the south
wing.”
Taehyung stood at the heart of it all, eyes wild, hair
wind-tangled, and claws still half-extended.
“Where is he?” he demanded again, his voice hoarse with
fury, echoing off broken stone.
No one had an answer. Not Yoongi, who stood bruised but
alert beside a limp Spark. Not Mili, whose wings trembled as she sniffed
frantically in the ash-choked air. Not even the King or Commander, still
gathering wounded guards.
He turned to the remaining soldiers, to Mili—who landed
beside him panting—and growled,
“Find him. Now.”
Mili let out a keening cry, her body glowing with distressed
fire.
“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung roared into the morning air, his power
spiking again. But no answer came.
Only silence.
Jungkook was gone.
Hours Earlier
Jungkook had fought like wildfire itself—blade in hand,
magic blazing, his dragons at his side. Every breath he took was to protect
those behind him. And yet, just after dawn began to touch the horizon, a faint,
trembling cry reached his ears amidst the chaos.
“Nyla…?” he whispered, turning toward the east courtyard,
where shadows writhed unnaturally. He saw her. Nyla, collapsed and bleeding,
surrounded by what looked like Neravans in dark armour—dozens of them. His
friend was cornered. His friend was dying.
Without hesitation, Jungkook sprinted across the
debris-strewn corridor, calling for help. But the atmosphere was thick with
smoke, fire, death, and war. The air turned strangely cold. As he neared the
scene, something prickled at the back of his mind.
“Nyla!” he shouted, dropping to his knees beside the girl.
Nyla turned her head slightly. Her face was streaked with blood—but her eyes…
they glowed.
Wrong.
The illusion shattered the moment too late. The “Nyla”
dissolved into vapor as enchanted manacles clamped down on Jungkook’s wrists
and ankles, binding him before he could summon his dragons or anyone for help.
A magical net of shimmering runes fell over him like a cage.
He tried to scream, but the air vanished from his lungs. His
dragons, tethered to his magic, felt him vanish—but distance and spellcraft
weakened their response. Within seconds, he was dragged into a void-gate
conjured by Neravan mages, disappearing into the shadows.
The last thing he saw was a banner burning behind him, and
the grinning face of Iravelle—the Neravan Princess—stepping through the smoke.
“No,” Taehyung growled again, slamming his fist into the
wall hard enough to crack it. “He wouldn’t leave. Not without a fight.”
“He was tricked,” Mili shared her thoughts with them, her
voice laced with guilt, sniffing around. “There was Neravan magic here. Very
strong. It… it mimicked something familiar to him. Someone he trusts. I failed
to save him. I failed to save myself.”
“Then they lured him,” Yoongi said, his face pale. “We need
to follow. Track the magic trail before it fades.”
The Queen and the Council arrived at the scene—but Taehyung
didn’t even look at them. His rage was a tempest now, his dragon forcing to
come out in a storm of terror and flame.
“I’ll tear through the realms if I have to,” he said. “Find
him. Bring him back. And burn anyone who lays a hand on him.”
The King tried to intervene, “We must proceed strategically,
Taehyung. If you charge into Nerava, it’s war on all fronts.”
Taehyung’s eyes blazed cerulean.
“Then let there be war.”
.
.
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