Drakenheart

By Raina T.R. Froste

Sixteen-year-old Lily is battling the difficulties of high school as well as navigating the new life-altering journey she is forced to embark on. She discovers a world of magic and mystery full of secrets and hidden truths. Revealing a price on her head and the remnants of an age-old civil war, along the way, she meets powerful allies, faces treacherous adversaries, and discovers the strength to confront her destiny--all while crushing on the new kid, Jaxon, who struggles with the choice of following his head or his heart. Will she survive until graduation?

Drakenheart is a captivating journey of self-discovery and adventure where the truth is never what it seems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889600763

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Drakenheart

Raina T.R. Froste

Copyright © 2023 Raina T.R. Froste

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88960-079-4 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-076-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About the Author

Prologue

Cassia Older stood on the tower's balcony as she watched the realm become awakened in a fierce, fiery conflagration as far as her eyes could see. She stood firm while she let the tears fall silently. After all her years as a leader, she had failed her people. Discord had moved its way through courts and down among the people of even the far-off villages. The differences between the Lecarian people have proved too strong to overcome as she had hoped. An uprising was currently terrorizing its way across the plain; they call for her removal from power. Cassia was infuriated at the thought of what those fires represented. She knew that the infrastructure would still be at the night's end, even if she wasn't. The houses and buildings were built with the strongest talc- schist to minimize the damage of dragonlings as they come into their powers. All the destruction would be in the fabric of the Lecarian's relationships with each other.

Suddenly a guard burst through the door, Apologies, Doyenne, but they've breached the citadel, she exclaimed. Unsheathing her axe from her back, Cassia swiftly moved back out of the room.

Gather the council in my chambers immediately. I must speak with Alix, Cassia ordered her guard as she hurried to keep pace. Cassia darted through the corridors, heading outside. She was looking for the one person who might have light to shed.

Some time later, as she was leaving the den with her newfound knowledge, Cassia was overcome by rebels. She fought off many but was soon forced to shift. After she dispatched them, she changed back. She needed to share what Alix had seen. Just as she reached the gardens at the edge of the grounds, Cassia was ambushed. Rebels surrounded her once more, and when she looked up to the skies, it was swarming with dragons, prepared to stop any ground-to-air escape. Already having fought her way through one horde today, she was starting to lag. She was regrettably defenseless against the threat from the sky. She continued to fight toward the entrance, toward safety. She raised her weapon to strike at an attacker. At that moment, Icy fire rained down on her from above. Several of the rebels aimed their dragon fire at her at the same time. The intense reaction of the two distinct types of flames caused a unique effect. Cassia instantly became a crystallized fossil where she stood.

With the Doyenne gone, the rebels took the citadel, killing all who resisted. The royal seer Alix vanished that night, not to have been seen since. Amongst her belongings was discovered to be a prophecy, believed to be the last that she foresaw on that fateful night.

A day shalt cometh at which hour what is known shall beest did waste, and a new dawn shall riseth. At which hour a baby is b'rn of two tribes. Blood to bridge yond which is did divide of greatest pow'r and strongest magyk. Ruling what hast becometh whole once m're. Peace shall rolleth across the landeth f'r war is did lay forever at rest.

—Royal Seer Alix

Chapter 1

It was late; the sister moons were at their highest rises. The village was quiet; it looked deserted—well, almost deserted. In the shadows of the villagers' homes, there moved a slight figure. Clarea snuck through the obscurity with stealth that had never been possessed by the clumsy woman before.

But that was then; this was now. Too much was at stake. Life depended on her making it to the outer northern border undetected. As she slithered along the dark streets, pressing the swaddling bundle to her chest, Clarea clutched it to her protectively, till her pale fingers began to ache, holding on with a death grip for dear life. She hurried along through the silhouettes of the outlying buildings, her clothing flaring behind her. She stopped at the corner to adjust the hood of her habun to cover her nearly snow-white hair. Taking a moment to rest her muscles, all her nerve endings was screaming in pain; it had been a long night. If she was found here, now, she would be killed. She glanced down at the expanse of cloth, in her arms, peeling back some of the blankets. She peered at the precious gift she was given; there in the folds of the cloak, staring up at her with wide eyes, was a newborn baby, a baby no more than a few hours old. She held in her hands her only child, Iyrdia, a child created from a forbidden love, thus making her very existence an act of treason.

As Clarea looked into her daughter's big round eyes, a mixed blend of her parent's bright ones, moisture sprang forth as Clarea's own began to water. One single salty water droplet began to roll down her cheek; before she could wipe it away, it fell on a now squirming Iyrdia. Iyrdia let out an agitated whimper when the tear landed on her head. For a long moment, Clarea just stared in horror as the baby's cries grew in number as well as volume.

Shaking herself from her daze, she wiped away the circle of moisture from Iyrdia's forehead; she then quickly recovered the baby with the blanket to keep her warm as well as away from prying eyes. She looked around in panic as she repositioned Iyrdia in her arms. Once the girl was in a more comforting position, she began to quiet. Clarea began to pick up her pace; she was so close. She could not fail. Iyrdia's safety was all that mattered now.

Some time later, Clarea was standing at the northern edge. This was the boundary between her people and the Militis. Her people, the Curatio, and the Militis have been at odds with one another for nearly a millennium, since the Great War segregated the once-unified nation. Over the last few centuries, several influential members from the two tribes have attempted to unite the Lecarian people as they once were. However, the two peoples are vastly different and were unable to find common ground to intermix the two cultures. Now it was a law among the people of both tribes to have no contact with that of the other.

Standing beside her was Kaimana, Iyrdia's father. Kaimana was Militis. Together, they stood waiting to board the dinguma when it arrived; some sympathetic friends to their plight were able to procure a ship for them secretly. The dinguma was to take them to a similar planet, hopefully, a great distance away that could support their biological makeup and other needs.

The two parents stood side by side, looking down on the newfound love of their collective lives. Because that's what this was now, it was no longer just Clarea, just Kaimana, from this moment forward it was the two of them. Joined together- He had claimed her, and she, him. Together as they were bound, they were each other's Maisha, two halves of one soul. The life they have created with their love has created an unbreakable bond that was intertwined with their existing bond of being each other's mates. Their child was another cord that brought them closer together. As they stood waiting in the still darkness, Clarea began to sing, slowly rocking the agitated baby into a deep slumber, her soothing voice carried away on the wind. She sang of their past, Lecaris's history, Iyrdia's heritage. She sang of the once-majestic dragons that lived here in great abundance alongside their mortal riders in peace, of the noble dragon King that fell for a mortal maiden. He wanted to be with her so much that he wove his magyk to give him a human form. He went to her and claimed her as his—the dragon and his Maisha, together. After the king claimed a mortal life mate, other dragons began to do the same, thus creating the current Lecarian race. For once, a mate was claimed, and the two were bound; it was so till the day when they no longer drew breath. The two halves of a whole completed the emptiness in the other, forever entwined.

Clarea sang of all this in the form of a popular Curatio lullaby. While she sang, Kaimana held the pendant; this particular pendant was enchanted. While she sang, the pendant absorbed her words. She continued to sing till the amalgamated stone began to project a soft glow. Once she was done singing, Clarea passed a sleeping Iyrdia to her father. As Kaimana held his daughter in his arms for the first time, he wept; he cried softly against her tiny body as he cradled her in the crook of his arm. When he finished shedding all the tears he had to give for his little gift from the gods, he bowed his head and whispered words of love and promise over Iyrdia, his warm breath tickling her face and causing her to wiggle in his arms. Just like with Clarea's song, his words were taken into the stone. The ways of his own people, blending with the Curatio. One stone represents the joining of two lives.

It was the parents' wish to accompany their daughter to the new world, to teach her all there was to know about where she came from, help her with any powers that may manifest. However, they both understood that there were things that could prevent that from coming to pass, so they prepared themselves for the pain that would come with being separated from their child. So in the dark, they waited, praying to their gods that Iyrdia would make it to safety, as her life was the only one that mattered. Finally, they heard the dinguma approach, but as they listened, they also heard the telltale sign of the conjoined border patrol (the only aspect of their societies where their people worked together, working together to keep their people apart). The ship landed, lowering the ramp, but the patrol was already upon them. Kaimana handed a stirring Iyrdia back to Clarea. Once the baby was safely in her mother's arms, Kaimana turned, pulling out his kana blade that hung from his belt. He raised it as he finished turning, bringing it down on the soldier approaching with his own sword. The soldier fell, and Kaimana was fighting the next officer before his body even stilled.

At the base of the ship's ramp, a terrified Clarea clung to Iyrdia, who was now wide awake and wailing. Clarea held her close, rocking her gently, as she watched her Maisha fight. No longer able to withstand watching from the side, she spun on her heels and passed Iyrdia to the ship's pilot.

Prepare for takeoff. Wait as long as you can. Leave us if you must. Get my daughter to safety. She is all that matters, Clarea told him, laying Iyrdia in his arms. Babies and young children are greatly cherished. The most precious gifts from the Gods, as births had steadily declined, soon becoming the rarity they were.

Taking the baby, On my life, I will protect her, was the pilot's reply with a solemn nod.

Clarea nodded once gravely. Before she could spill a tear, she pressed the dragon heart amulet into the soft folds of the bundle in the man's arm, tore off her dark blue habun, and threw it aside. Turning around, she flew down the ramp; she grabbed an abandoned kana from a felled officer.

Stunned by the weight and unnatural feel of the weapon, Clarea paused, hunched over, adjusting the long blade in her hands. After a moment's hesitation, a wave of steel determination came over Clarea. She stood up, straightening her spine. She took a deep breath and lifted the blade. She began to attack the nearest man; her movements were clumsy and awkward, but she managed to disarm him. As he reached down to pick up his sword, Clarea flipped the blade in her hand and hit the man over the head with the butt of her kana. The man fell, knocked out. Clarea turned and proceeded to engage with the next man.

Kaimana was in the middle of trying to defeat his fourth patroller when he doubled over. He let out a deafening cry; white-hot pain coursed through his body. On his knees, he clutched his midsection. He looked over at Clarea just as the soldier she had been battling withdrew his sword from her stomach. Clarea was distressed, her mouth hanging open in a look of pure pain and disbelief, as the officer pulled the kana from her abdomen. Clarea fell to the ground in a motionless heap. Their connection was forever shattered.

As the soldier stood over her holding his kana, the blade still dripping the crimson blood of his love, Kaimana, who was still on his knees, let out a strangled howl of pain. He fended off the soldier he had been fighting as he rose to regain his footing. He began to fight without conscious thought; all he wanted was to curl up next to his love and let the world fade away. But he knew it was out of the question. That was not what Clarea would have wanted because Iyrdia needed him. He fought till one soldier landed a well-aimed shot at his shoulder. He stumbled away into the bushes. As he tried to stay upright, he could see the remaining soldiers approach the ship as it geared to take off. He sent silent thanks to the pilot and a prayer to the gods, asking for protection and guidance for his daughter.

He was able to get to the rocks at the border's edge before he collapsed. Before he lost consciousness, the image of his soft doe-eyed child sprang to mind. The last thing he saw was her eyes.

Seventeen years later…

Eyes that were a warm light brown, and skin a smooth dark caramel color. That is what her reflection showed, staring back at her as she pulled the brush through her light-chestnut hair. Lily looked at herself in the mirror as she sat at her desk, preparing for school. She stared, looking for what she didn't really know. Lily wished to find even the smallest of clues. This had become part of her morning; she would search her reflection for anything that was a distinct characteristic that might tell her where her looks came from. She was the odd one out in her family regarding appearance. Her mom and dad were both dark-skinned with chocolate eyes and black curly hair— well, at least she knew her mom did; her dad kept his hair shaved.

Setting aside her brush, Lily turned her eyes to the pendant around her neck. It was a silver dragon coiled around itself. The dragon's mouth opened to a single stone at its center, as if it breathed fire. What made the gem unique was that not only was it in a shape resembling a heart, but in its entirety, it was equal parts a dark icy blue and a bright fiery red. The colors seemed almost to be marbled together; the result was quite beautiful, if not a bit unusual.

She was still staring, absentmindedly stroking the chain, when her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. She jumped, looking around, when she realized her mom was calling her downstairs for breakfast.

Coming! she yelled back.

Lily hopped up from her seat, spinning around to grab her backpack and sling it over her shoulder. She dashed out of her room and ran down the stairs, her pendant bouncing against her chest. She slid into the seat at the kitchen counter just as her mom set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her.

You're late. You need to be down here sooner if you plan to eat a full meal, her mom scolded her, shaking the spatula at her before turning around and attending to the eggs in the skillet on the stove.

Sm' okay, she replied around a mouthful of toast. A horn beeped outside. Gotta go, she said to her mom's back as she shoved a forkful of egg into her mouth. The horn honked again. Grabbing a slice of toast from her plate, Lily swiped her bag off the counter, where she had thrown it, and she turned and headed toward the door.

Love you, she called over her shoulder. Lily saw her mom lift the kitchen utensil in a wave before she snatched her jacket from where it hung in the hall and closed the front door behind her. She bounced down the steps and jumped into the car. Lily pulled the jacket on over her cold arms. Before getting her seat belt buckled, her head was thrown back against the headrest as the car sped off.

Geez, slow down, would ya? she said as Connor rounded the corner of Blythewood Avenue.

Well, you see, I would, but this prissy little princess just couldn't bother to come sooner, so to slow down would mean being late, Connor remarked with a smirk as his foot let up slightly off the gas.

Shut up, Lily retorted, reaching over and shoving Connor's arm with a laugh.

Hey, watch it. I'm driving. Connor smiled. He reached over to bat her hand away as it came down to smack his shoulder without looking away from the road.

Connor Ehardt was a six-foot-three pitcher for the Patriots' baseball team. He had been Lily's best friend ever since his family moved in down the street when he was five. Twelve years later, they were both juniors in high school and still best friends (even if they drove each other crazy). Conner had taken on the role of Lily's brother, keeping her away from the wrong crowds and on track in school, as her mind was prone to wander. He had her back, and she had his. A few minutes later, Connor pulled his silver Honda into the school student lot. As he cut the engine, the school bell rang through the courtyard. Lily twisted in her seat to grab her bag from the back; she turned back, ready to leave. She stopped with her hand on the handle and looked at Connor.

Sally's after school? she asked.

Of course, Connor responded with a smile, as Sally's was a time-honored tradition after school since the sixth grade.

Flashing him a quick grin in reply, Lily pushed open the door and ran out to head into the school building before the late bell rang. Connor, who had first-period study hall, just sat in the driver's seat shaking his head.

Don't be late! he called out after Lily's retreating form; the only evidence that she heard him was the backward wave of her hand as she raced up the front steps.

Chuckling to himself softly, Connor pulled his own backpack over his shoulder before getting out to head toward the library.

Inside, Lily managed to slide into her seat in American Literature just as the late bell sounded. Lily slumped back in her seat as she breathed out a sigh of relief. Her teacher, Mrs. Mavoris, closed the door before turning to the board for today's lesson.

Okay, class, today, we will begin to talk about the influence of the idea of romanticism on the work of American writers, Mrs. Mavoris said with her back to them as she wrote the book pages for today's assignment. After she turned, Lily got a look at the board. She leaned over to get her book from her bag. As she sat back up to flip to the right page, she noticed a boy up at the front of the room with Mrs. Mavoris. He was leaning against the teacher's desk with his bag slung over his shoulder, facing the class.

Lily stopped flipping through her book to listen as Mrs. Mavoris announced.

Class, I would like you to meet Jaxon Winters, a new exchange student. I know you will all try to make him feel welcome, Mavoris said with a warm smile.

She waved to the back of the room. Jaxon, you can take a seat right back there, behind Sara. Jaxon didn't appear to be listening to her. When Lily glanced up, she froze, although her body felt like it was on fire. The boy, Jaxon, was staring at her. Her breath caught in her chest; his stare brought a sense of shock never known to her. He stared at her, and she stared back, neither one willing to look away first. The whole world seemed to melt into the background. It was as if he had become absorbed in her gaze, drowning in the depths, searching for something unknown.

Then someone cleared their throat, and the spell was broken. Jaxon shook his head, smiled shyly, and proceeded to walk back to his seat. Lily's eyes followed him as he walked past. He sat down to the left and a chair behind her. Lily turned back in her seat, focusing on her book. All throughout the class, Lily could feel eyes on the back of her head. Every time she turned to sneak a peek at the mysterious boy, he would just continue to stare without looking away.

He blinked. Draykar couldn't believe it. She couldn't be here, but she was. Iyrdia. Of all the worlds that had been searched by the warriors over these many moons, she was on earth. She would meet the fate that she had escaped that epoch night.

Later, Draykar couldn't help but replay the moment he first saw her. After the first meeting and his initial reaction, he was confused and terrified. As this was his first assignment as a new member of the soldiers of the Militis emperor, he wanted desperately to succeed. Prime Likan had spent years keeping with his search. He sent out scouts to every inhabited world with a compatible atmosphere. He was outraged that the man Kaimana committed treason and even more so that his men had let him escape into the mountains and that they failed in erasing what was seen as his abhorrent creation.

After his death a few years ago, Likan's daughter took the throne and continued the search leading to the present, where Draykar was sent to earth in an attempt to locate and assassinate the traitor's spawn. When Draykar first saw her, his eyes scoured the room, and then they zeroed in on her, his body instantly reacting to her closeness; he felt his blood immediately begin to boil. Draykar felt the stirring of his dragon within him. As he locked eyes with the girl, his beast began to grumble and snap, wanting to be released. He believed that the dragon was just reacting to the presence of an adversary. Then, in the space of a second, the dragon went from an almost violent push to be freed to purring and wanting to