Eclipse of Shattered Throne

The Dragonlord's Game

The throne room stank of incense and iron.

The Dragonlord lounged on his obsidian dais, his mechanical left eye whirring as it tracked his daughters' approach. Around them, the eleven family banners hung limp in the dead air, each one representing a bloodline that had knelt before his might.

"You've been busy," he mused, swirling wine in a goblet carved from a dragon's skull. "Killing my Hounds. Digging up old secrets." His smile showed too many teeth. "Tell me, Hayuni, do you still dream of white lilies?"

Hayuni's ribbons twitched, but her laugh was light as summer rain. "Father, really. If I dreamed of flowers, I'd at least pick something prettier."

Payune's grip tightened on Dragonrend. The blade hummed, its hunger a constant itch beneath her skin.

"Enough games," the Dragonlord sighed. He snapped his fingers.

A golden scroll unfurled midair, its glowing script announcing:

THE ECLIPSE TOURNAMENT

All Eleven Houses Shall Compete

The Victor Claims the Throne of Ashes

Payune's stomach lurched. The tournament happened only once a generation, a blood-soaked spectacle where families sacrificed their strongest to prove their worth.

"You'll compete, of course," their father said. "Unless you'd rather watch as I peel the skin from your little fox spirit, stitch by stitch."

Hayuni's smile didn't waver, but her foxfire charms dimmed.

Back in the pavilion, Hayuni paced like a caged animal, her usual grace replaced by jagged energy.

"We could run," Payune muttered.

"And go where?" Hayuni spun, her corset straining with the movement. "The Wastes? The Black Cities? Every inch of this cursed land belongs to him!"

The distant chanting of priests setting up the tournament grounds was carried by the wind outside. Payune felt her skin crawl.

"There's another way," was Hayuni's whisper. She pressed a hand to the mirror shards at her throat. "We play his game. We win. And when he crowns us..." Her eyes gleamed. "We slit his throat with his own dagger."

Dragonrend shuddered in Payune's grip.

"You're insane," Payune said.

Hayuni's laugh was all edges. "I'm brilliant."

That night, Payune dreamed of a woman with no face, standing in a field of lilies.

"You hold a dead thing," the woman whispered. "A blade that eats memories. Ask it what happened to its last master."

Payune woke gasping, Dragonrend pulsing hot beside her.

The blade had never felt right in her hands. Too heavy. Too hungry. Now she understood why.

It was alive.