The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 40

Killian

“ Mother, I don’t want my friend to leave. Look, Rosalynd’s sad too.”

“Make sure you wave goodbye, son. Here, let me lift you up so she can see you better.”

“Why is it so hard to say goodbye?”

“Because it feels like you’re losing them, if only for a little. But make sure you bid your farewell, otherwise it will be harder to return home.”

February 1431

I stood by the window, contemplating the distorted view through the stained glass. It didn’t resemble real life, but if I didn’t know better, I might have believed it. Just like everything that happened today. Had I been mistaken? I felt like I’d done something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what. I had never acted differently before. She knew what was at stake, what the consequences of the games were. Rider Taddeus… Laszlo did everything he could to win, even if it meant dying. So where did these expectations come from? And what did she mean when she said it was never Laszlo? If it wasn’t Laszlo, then who?

There was a knock at the door, and for a moment, I hoped it was Elena. “Enter.”

But it was only Tarra. “Commander, we’ve prepared the weapons for tomorrow. The prismwater cuffs weren’t salvageable. The buzdugan had a few loose spikes, but the local blacksmith fixed it.”

“Very well.”

“May I be excused?” she asked coldly, as if I weren’t her brother.

“Yes, you may.” As she turned to leave, I couldn’t help but ask, “How is she?”

“Rosalynd gave her a tonic to help her sleep. She’s been resting for an hour now. But don’t worry, Commander. She’ll perform her duties tomorrow to the best of her abilities. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She left the room.

I quickly locked the door behind her. I grabbed the nearest wine bottle and drowned my sorrows in it. It was a terrible choice given the circumstances, but the alternative felt worse.

I lay down on the bed, my body sinking into a hazy fog as every muscle relaxed. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything. Not today. Not tomorrow. I stared at the ceiling, tracing its ridges but only seeing her face. I closed my eyes. Everything kept spinning—my world, my thoughts, my beliefs.

“Winning won’t bring your mother back,” her words echoed in my mind, over and over again. How could I escape the torturous confines of my thoughts? And those haunted eyes when she saw Laszlo fall… Nothing compared to the pain of watching someone you love die in front of you. Especially, knowing it’s because of you. I knew it firsthand.

A heat burned within me as the world continued to spin around until it suddenly stopped. Then, I saw my mother’s face on the ceiling.

“Mother, you’re here. I’ve been so alone since you left. Can you forgive me?” For the first time since her death, tears escaped my eyes. Before, I’d felt furious, vengeful, unforgiving. But I had never felt sadness like this. My muscles clenched in agony as I gripped the bedpost, snapping it in two. What use was my power if I couldn’t use it to save the people I loved?

“Forgive me, Mother. I failed you. I’ll have to carry this burden for the rest of my life, and I’ll probably never recover. But to live any kind of life, I need to let go,” I whispered. “I have to say goodbye—not because I don’t care, but because you cared so much for me.” The thought felt like flames dissipating, one by one, until I finally fell asleep.

In my sleep, her words echoed in my mind, over and over, digging into my brain. “It was never him. It was never him.” Drenched in sweat, I woke up, unsure of where I was. The sun had yet to rise. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Elena’s letter. I wasn’t sure why I’d kept it until now. By the dim light of a dying candle, I read it again.

I read it once, twice, three times––until it hit me. It was never about Laszlo because the poem was about… me. She wrote it for me. The furtive glances, the awkward smiles, the tender touches—it all made sense now. I had her heart. And I was the idiot who didn’t see it.

I raked my fingers through my hair in disbelief, then jumped out of bed and began pacing the room.

The worst part was that I felt the same. As her commander, I couldn’t allow myself to cross that line. But over time, the line blurred enough to reveal something I never thought I’d feel. She embodied everything I admired in a woman—her determination, her unyielding will, her boundless hope. The traits I once saw as weaknesses were the very ones that made me fall in love with her.

I had her so close, yet I kept her so far away. I had to speak to her, to tell her before it was too late. She didn’t know my feelings were mutual, and I’d never forgive myself if I stayed silent. I didn’t deserve forgiveness, but at least she’d know.

When I got to the chamber, Tarra and Kovak were standing on guard .

“Commander, Rider Costin wishes not to be disturbed,” Kovak said.

“It’s crucial that I speak with her.”

“She specifically requested not to speak with you,” Tarra insisted.

“It’s of great importance.”

“Nothing is as important as today’s game. You said so yourself, Commander,” Tarra said.

I lowered my head. Was I too late? The games mattered, but her life mattered more. I wanted her back safe, but we all knew her chances of winning were slim. Her chances of surviving were even slimmer. This was the final farewell I’d never get to say.

“You can try before the game in the armory, if she lets you,” Tarra added coldly.

“Very well.” I returned to my chamber, grabbed my cloak, and left the castle. I took flight immediately and landed at the arena, where preparations for the event were not yet complete.

I entered the armory and changed into my uniform. There, I waited for her. She would have to talk to me once she saw me face to face. I waited, time dragging on endlessly. Finally, she appeared, decked out in armor, surrounded by at least five people, including my father. They passed by as if I didn’t exist.

“Rider Costin, I must speak to you.” But she didn’t even flinch, as if I were no longer her commander.

“Rider Costin,” Father said, “Not only is the Viridian son stronger than the other contestants, but he will also use everything in his arsenal to defeat you. He’s ruthless and prone to bending the rules. Even though magic is illegal, be prepared that he might use it. Do you understand?”

Elena nodded, her eyes focused solely on the fight. Pride swelled in my chest, only to curdle into bitter remorse. She was about to die for those who never cared to know her name.

Something new surfaced in me: she had to survive. There was only one way to survive the games—by falling and staying alive.

“Elena,” I tried to coax her into turning towards me. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to win, that she could lower Tarra closer to the ground, and that if she jumped, she would survive. She had to survive. “Elena,” I pleaded. But she marched on with the hive of attendants, Kovak and Novak flanking her.

I had messed things up gloriously. If she survived this, I would beg at her feet for forgiveness. I was about to lose her, and I couldn’t let that happen without trying to reach her. I shoved through the crowd until I reached her shoulder. She turned and looked me dead in the eyes. “Don’t touch me,” she said, turning away.

“I am your commander. You will listen,” I ordered.

She halted in her steps but didn’t turn. “What’s there to hear?” she said, her voice hollow. “There is one goal and one goal only—victory.”

I wanted to march after her, but Father placed a hand on my shoulder. “You need to trust her, son. You’ve done everything you could until this very moment. ”

“I didn’t, Father. I didn’t do enough.”

“There is nothing more we can do, is there?”

“Lords and Ladies, it is my honor to present today the final round of our tournament,” the Master of Lists announced. “Competing in the final round will be Princess Tarra Valkorian and her rider from the House of the Crimson Dragon, and Prince Volokh Ashenwold and his rider from the House of the Viridian Dragon. Let the final dragon games begin!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Sigismund and János Hunyadi looked relaxed, convinced they had won the game. Meanwhile, Vlad II kept a straight face—what else could he do given the situation? Sigismund had backed his claim to the Wallachian throne, but in royal affairs, things could go south fast.

Strangely, Father didn’t seem too concerned about losing the reign of the Other Realm. It looked like he was betting everything on Elena’s victory.

Elena performed her signature mount, and in the next moment, they were airborne. Volokh and his rider were already waiting, their sheer size casting a shadow over Elena and Tarra. But the size difference didn’t faze either fighter. We all knew Volokh’s rider would use prismwater weapons, though they hadn’t revealed what kind. Unfortunately, they were well aware of Elena’s weapon.

I paced back and forth, torn over whether I should watch the fight or not. The thought of seeing her hurt became unbearable. Father grabbed my arm and pulled me to the front .

“You need to see this, Commander. You’re needed outside the arena as much as inside.”

Father was right. They needed to see that I fully supported everything they did. I took a step forward and locked eyes with Elena. Once I caught her gaze, I nodded. She had my full trust.

The crowd was behind the Viridian house, chanting Volokh’s name over and over, as if they were casting a spell for victory. But Elena’s stance remained unshaken. She had come a long way since the first day I saw her.

Elena wasted no time, spinning her buzdugan straight at the Viridian rider. It slammed into his shoulder before returning to her hand. That infuriated both the rider and Volokh. Volokh spewed fire straight at Tarra, but she deftly avoided it by leaning to the side. With Elena’s help, she twisted around and bit his tail. The Viridian’s screech echoed throughout the arena.

Right away, I noticed the Viridians’ odd tactic. They weren’t attacking—they were waiting for my fighters to wear themselves out before moving in for the kill. I tried to signal this to Elena, but she was too focused on the fight.

The second time Tarra grabbed the young Viridian’s tail and tried to throw him, he countered. He used his front limb to jab his talons into her snout, sending blood everywhere. He clamped her neck, forcing her mouth open as the Viridian rider aimed an arrow at her throat. They were trying to suppress her fire.

Elena yanked hard on the reins and got Tarra out of there. Even though Tarra was bleeding badly, she still had enough strength to defend herself. But Elena had her back to the enemy—a big mistake. Before she could turn around, the rider pulled all the snow from the ground and sent it hurtling toward her. The Viridians had chosen a water-wielder. Fuck.

“Duck!” I yelled. Without a second thought, she followed my command. Her instinctive trust in me might just save us both. The bulk of the melted snow went past her, but some still soaked her. She spun Tarra around and swung her morningstar, but it couldn’t reach the Viridian rider’s head. The Viridian dragon and rider were too tall, and Elena was shorter than most riders—a disadvantage we’d faced before.

The game marshal approached me, ordering me to keep quiet if I wanted to stay. I nodded, but inside, I was itching to tear my nails out one by one just to calm the storm in my chest. Every move the Viridians made showed they were stronger, more experienced, and better suited to win. And that was exactly what they wanted to prove next.

The Viridian rider pulled out a prismwater double axe and started spinning it at Elena’s neck height. My heart stopped. The bastard aimed to decapitate her. She pulled Tarra up just in time. Even though it pierced some scales, the axe ricocheted back to its owner.

Elena began shivering as the water on her body started freezing, but she quickly shook it off and refocused on the fight. The Viridians started circling them, pushing them into the center—a classic intimidation tactic. But it didn’t faze them. Elena slowly lowered Tarra and maneuvered out of the circle. Enraged, the Viridian began spewing fire non-stop, but Elena had a plan. She lowered herself and molded to Tarra’s back. Now they moved as one, so the fire mostly hit Tarra, who took the brunt of it.

Seeing that they weren’t easily scared, the Viridians switched tactics again. When I saw his rider pull out a water globe with green veins slithering within it, I knew what was coming—they were planning to use magic. They were going to cheat again.

“Game marshal, can’t you see what’s happening? Are you going to let the Viridian House break the rules again?”

“It will be taken into consideration once the game ends,” the game marshal replied.

“So all your rules are just meaningless words?” I countered.

“How do you expect me to stop them without endangering half the people here? Accept the game for what it is, Prince Valkorian. In the end, someone always dies.”

The bastard. The games were rigged from the start.

I signaled to Elena that magic was in play. Instantly, Elena’s back stiffened—she knew magic was no joke.

“Why are you so worried?” Father said. “Let her fulfill her fate, son. The Pure have spoken. If she’s meant to die in this tournament, then why stand in the way?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You see her as nothing more than a pawn in the Fates’ games?”

“We’ve given her everything she needed. We welcomed her into the Keep, made her a rider, all so she could win the tournament.”

“So, all this time, you’ve been treating her like a sacrificial lamb, just for a chance at winning?”

“I treated her based on her usefulness. The Pure said she needed to die for us to win, and I believe them.” He looked at her with pride, like she was a prized horse. “Look at her—there’s nothing more terrifying than a woman who has nothing to lose.”

“You’ve become like the rest of them, Father.” He didn’t even flinch at the remark. “But let me make one thing clear—I don’t give a damn what the Pure said. She’s not going to die, not if I can do anything about it.”

But when I glanced at the arena, reality hit me. My fists clenched, and my jaw tightened as I realized just how beyond my control this situation was. My heart sank when the Viridian rider raised his axe, pulled at the dragon’s reins, and shouted a battle cry. This was it—the fatal strike. Volokh began breathing fire, scorching the air around them. The rider raised his axe and simultaneously threw both the water globe and his weapon. As they passed through the flames, both objects vanished from sight. Elena ducked, unsure of what was coming. The water globe, infused with magic, struck Tarra’s hind limb, transforming into an ice blade that severed her leg completely. An unbearable shriek followed as blood gushed from the wound. Tarra involuntarily released her scales, nearly causing Elena to fall. Though Tarra struggled, Elena yanked on one of the reins to steady them. But Tarra couldn’t regain her balance. They wobbled in the air, her wings fluttering faster and faster.

But my mind was racing with one question: where did the axe go? It suddenly reappeared from behind, looping around and heading straight for Elena’s back, knocking her forward.

“Elena!” I yelled, but she didn’t move. The axe pierced through her armor and slashed her back. Blood began to flow, a clear sign that the Viridian rider had hit his mark.

We waited for her skin to be ravaged by the prismwater metal, but surprisingly, nothing happened. Without proper application, the prismwater weapon lost its deadly edge. There was a reason why Danko was the chosen blacksmith for our house. I breathed a sigh of relief. Even if it was a slim chance, she still had a shot at survival. But she remained unconscious. Unsure of what to do, Tarra distanced herself from the enemy and began flying in circles.

The Viridians, already tasting victory, turned to the crowd and roared. The spectators responded gleefully, like mindless sheep dancing to death’s tune. Sigismund wore an insufferable smirk, while Vlad II had already accepted his fate.

All that was left was to knock Elena off her dragon. I looked at her, hoping she would get up, but she lay completely still. No matter how much I wanted it, her lifeless body gave me no reason to believe she was alive. The pain in my chest felt like fire burning through my insides.

“It’s better to leave,” Father muttered, turning away .

“You must stay till the end, Father, and witness your prophecy burn in flames.”

“Wait, something’s happening,” Kovak said, pointing at the arena.

I turned to look. While the Viridians celebrated, Tarra silently flew behind their backs. Once she was aligned, Elena raised herself, gripped her morningstar, and stood on her feet.

“What is she doing? This maneuver is too dangerous,” Father said.

But I knew exactly what she planned. “She’s doing what is necessary, Father.”

She was using a deception tactic. Though she still wobbled, some of Tarra’s scales gripped her feet. Despite the pain Tarra must have felt, she didn’t waver. Even when the crowd noticed and tried to warn the Viridian rider, he mistook it for veneration.

The reality was that the only way she could dislodge the rider from his dragon was to hit him straight in the head. But being too short, she needed elevation to reach her target. Considering her height and weight, she might be the only one who could pull it off.

She took the small prismwater dagger in her left hand and aimed it at the other rider’s neck. Then she spun the morningstar in her other hand, focusing it at the exact height of the rider’s head.

Time seemed to stop. I watched as she exhaled all the air in her lungs. First, she threw the dagger while her hands spun the morningstar faster and faster. Then, she let it fly .

Everything that happened next unfolded in slow motion. The dagger struck the rider square in the nape—the only exposed patch of skin on his entire body. The morningstar followed, hitting him directly in the head from the other side and knocking him off the Viridian dragon’s back.

The crowd fell silent. Even Volokh didn’t immediately grasp what had happened. As Elena sat back on Tarra, her mind seemed to go blank. Blood poured from her back, but that wasn’t the real issue. She stiffened, her gaze glassy. The morningstar returned to her hand, but she didn’t grip it, and it fell beside the dead rider. Her eyes dulled, her shoulders slumped. The only thing keeping her upright was Tarra’s scales. She had given up. She might’ve won the games, but she had lost all hope. She accepted her fate, and with it, her death.

Tarra tried to revive her, shifting from place to place, but Elena swayed like a willow branch—a lifeless soul in a living body.

“We need to get her out of there. She’s in serious danger. The fight’s not over until she’s out of the arena,” I said.

Though clearly displeased, the king stood to give his final word. “The Crimson Dragon House wins the Time Tournament.”

Surprised by the outcome, Volokh began clicking rhythmically—a sound that echoed like the clicks of death. He turned, found his target from the left side and unleashed a stream of fire straight at Elena .

“This needs to stop now! She’s not fighting anymore!” I shouted.

Elena didn’t budge. The metal and leather on her body burned, but she didn’t move. She just accepted it, until Tarra couldn’t hold out any longer and released her scales. Elena slumped to the side and fell.

I acted instantly, tearing my clothes in the process. “Killian!” my father yelled after me.

I flew past Volokh and caught Elena’s lifeless body in midair. Without hesitation, I turned and headed straight for the healer. Only Raisa could save her now.