Chapter 77 || BOUND AND TORN BY PROPHECIES

 

Fire Beneath the Velvet

The walls trembled again. This time, not from the distant echo of a dragon’s cry, but from the direct and undeniable pressure of magic—Taehyung’s magic.

 

It wasn’t just noise. It was a presence. Like a storm pressing against the edges of the world, his fury poured through the seams of the opulent prison. The mirrors cracked. Velvet curtains snapped on unseen wind. Even the Neravan sigils etched in the marble beneath the bed gave a dull hum—as though acknowledging the growing pressure of something they could not contain.

 

Jungkook didn’t flinch.

He stood, head held high, hands clenched at his sides. He could feel him. Not through their bond—not clearly—but somewhere deeper, more primal. Like the echo of a heartbeat in his blood. He was close. Close enough that every hair on his arms rose in warning and hope.

 

A screech split the air—high, sharp, and alive. Not a dragon’s voice, but an alarm.

The Neravan tower guards had seen him.

They were too late.

 

Taehyung didn’t land so much as descend like judgment.

 

The Neravan palace was ancient, its spires carved from black onyx and pale obsidian, veined with gold filigree and ancient glyphs. But no architecture, no matter how sacred or fortified, could withstand a wrathful prince at the edge of losing himself. He arrived not in human form, but as his true self—scaled and terrible, massive wings blotting the early moonlight. His body shimmered gold and obsidian, fire flickering between his horns, claws molten with heat. The city below screamed. Watchtowers ignited under the sheer force of his landing.

 

“WHERE IS HE?” his dragon voice boomed—not with sound alone, but with ancient command. The language of dragons pulsed across the skies, a magic older than kingdoms. Bolts of defensive energy rose from the citadel, aimed at him. But the spells barely reached him before they shattered in midair, burned away by his heat or swatted by a casual flick of his wings.

 

Inside the royal court, chaos erupted. Priests scrambled to reinforce the palace shields. Iravelle barked orders at her generals. But even she was pale—less queen, more child—when she glimpsed the silhouette of the beast descending.

 

But Taehyung didn’t attack the throne room first.

No.

He sought him.

 

Jungkook heard the tremble of the marble before the walls of his prison exploded. The air burst inward. Shards of stone and runes and golden-framed glass flew like dust. He ducked just in time as a mirror shattered above him. Wind howled. Velvet ribbons tore from the walls like they were being ripped from a dream.

 

And in the heart of it all—Taehyung landed.

 

He wasn’t human. Not yet. A dragon too large for the room, compressed by illusion, his form flickering between shapes. The gold of his eyes locked on Jungkook—and the storm of him stilled.

 

He shifted before him. Human. Bare-chested. Scaled veins glowing at his throat, his wrists. His breathing was ragged, as though he’d run across entire continents to reach him.

“Jungkook,” he said, and his name was a prayer.

Jungkook stepped toward him once, then twice—and stopped.

The magic seal.

Still faintly glowing. He glanced down, and Taehyung followed his gaze. Without a word, he raised his hand. The rune circle cracked. Shattered in an instant, turning into glowing dust. The air rushed back into Jungkook’s lungs like he had been drowning all this time. His knees buckled. He didn’t mean to fall, but the moment his magic returned—the moment the bond flared back to life—it overwhelmed him.

 

Taehyung caught him before he hit the floor.

“Jungkook.” He pressed his forehead to his.

“I thought I lost you.”

He trembled in Taehyung’s arms.

“You almost did.”

Taehyung's grip tightened. And then the illusion snapped. A blade whistled through the air behind them.

 

Iravelle had arrived—dressed no longer in royal silver but in battle-weave black, eyes glowing with power. She had come to kill her rival herself.

Taehyung reacted faster than sight. He pushed Jungkook behind him, caught the sword with his bare hand—and shattered it.

 

The sound of metal fracturing echoed louder than the explosion had. Iravelle stumbled back, lips bleeding from the force of her own failed strike.

“You are mine!” she shouted, voice trembling with fury.

“You were always meant to be mine!”

 

Taehyung stepped forward. No fire. No claws. Just a quiet, terrifying calm.

“I was never yours.” He raised a hand—and flame exploded from the floor.

But Jungkook caught his wrist.

“Not like this,” he whispered.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to his.

He shook his head.

“Don’t let her twist you into the monster she wants you to be. That’s her victory. Not ours.”

He stared at him for a long, breathless second. Then lowered his hand, and the flames died.

 

Iravelle stood, stunned—and furious.

But behind her, a door creaked open and Yoongi’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Time to go, lovebirds.” Yoongi had timed it to the second.

 

While Taehyung broke down the front gates with fire and fury, Yoongi’s team had slithered in through the tunnels beneath the palace—the ancient aqueducts long forgotten by modern Neravans.

 

Nyla was cloaked in illusion, her form matching a high priestess’s with near-perfect mimicry. Niki had hacked the magical wards using stolen sigils. Spark had left timed static charms to disorient the surveillance stones. They reached Jungkook’s prison just as Taehyung did—but kept to the shadows until the right moment.

 

Now, they emerged together. The reunion was cut short by the urgency.

“We’ve got ten minutes before the high mages call reinforcements,” Yoongi said, tossing Jungkook a cloak. He caught it, wincing as he swung it around his shoulders.

“You came for me,” he said softly.

“Always,” Yoongi replied.

 

Nyla gave Taehyung a long look.

“You can’t fly him out—not with Neravan arrow wards still active.”

“I’ll burn through them.”

“You’ll die trying.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Jungkook lifted his chin.

“We’ll take the tunnel. Together.”

 

The escape wasn’t clean. The moment they stepped into the lower corridors, alarms blared. Spell traps triggered. Guards chased shadows and illusions. The walls groaned with defensive incantations. But the team was sharp. Niki rerouted power lines. Nyla cast a dozen copies of them, each running in different directions. Yoongi laid fire wards in a trail behind them to deter pursuit.

 

Taehyung carried Jungkook when his strength faltered. Their bond pulsed stronger with every step.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Jungkook whispered once, when their path grew dark.

Taehyung only held him tighter.

“You will never lose me again.”

 

By the time they reached the cliffside exit, dawn had begun to creep over the mountains.

 

Dragons filled the skies. Neravan guards swarmed behind them, casting light spheres and sonic traps.

And then—the King’s dragons appeared.

 

A fleet of blue-scaled royal beasts soared into view, answering Taehyung’s earlier call. They roared in tandem, fire spreading across the horizon. The sky burned with defiance. A massive dragon swooped down, its back outfitted with a makeshift platform.

 

They jumped—one after the other. Taehyung helped Jungkook into the saddle, then turned back to face the cliff. A Neravan high mage stood at the edge, robes smoking, eyes burning white.

“You steal a hostage from a peace court,” he hissed.

“You doom us all.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“He was never yours to keep.”

 

And he jumped. The dragon soared higher, higher, until the entire palace was a dark sprawl beneath them. They didn’t speak for a long time. Jungkook sat between Taehyung and Yoongi, his head resting against Taehyung’s chest. The wind tugged at his hair, at Taehyung’s loose tunic, at the rags of their torn clothing. But nothing touched the quiet that settled over them like balm.

 

Finally, Jungkook looked up.

“Iravelle won’t stop.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened.

“Let her try.”

“No,” he said. “We can’t keep reacting. We need to end this. Not just rescue missions. Not just threats. We end her claim. We end the council’s indecision. We end this game.”

Taehyung turned to look at him, golden eyes unreadable.

“Together?” he asked.

Jungkook nodded.

“Together.”

Yoongi glanced away, then back.

“Then we plan for war. A real one.”

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