Chapter 1: The Betrayal
The undercity was as alive as it was suffocating. The air, thick with the smell of oil and metal, pressed down on Kaida like a heavy blanket. The sun had long since set, and the only light now came from the flickering lanterns that lined the narrow alleyways. Their faint glow barely pierced the thick smoke rising from the foundries and workshops scattered across the undercity. The structures around her were a labyrinth of stone and rusted iron, built haphazardly to house the workers, thieves, and misfits who had no place above. Kaida belonged to this world, a world where survival was the only currency, and secrets were the one thing everyone guarded. She pulled the rough fabric of her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she walked the familiar streets, her feet quick but silent against the cracked cobblestones. She had long since learned how to blend into the shadows, a ghost in her own home.
Above, the towering spires of the top city pierced the sky, their shining surfaces reflecting the last of the sun's light. From this distance, the city looked like a dream—impossibly beautiful, cold, and distant. It was a place of wealth, power, and luxury, everything that Kaida could never touch. She knew the stories: the gilded mansions, the sprawling gardens, the highborn people who could have anything they wanted. But it was a world she could never be a part of. The people of the undercity were born to serve, to work, to toil in the factories and mines below while the top city basked in its artificial perfection.
Kaida had spent her life in these shadows, her existence woven into the fabric of the undercity's gritty reality. She had learned early on to keep her head down, to never draw attention to herself. There was no room for weakness in a place like this. But there was one secret Kaida could never share, not with anyone—not even Elara. The tattoo on her back was a reminder of a life she could never escape, a mark she had been born with, and one that she had kept hidden for years.
The tattoo was intricate, its design a twisting, coiling dragon, its scales shimmering even in the dimmest light, but its true power was something Kaida had never dared to explore. She didn't understand it, not completely, but she had always known that it marked her as different. The energy that pulsed through her veins whenever she thought about the tattoo, whenever it stirred, felt alive, a presence within her that was as ancient as the world itself. Kaida had spent her entire life trying to ignore it, to suppress it, because the consequences of unleashing it were too great. She had seen what power like hers could do—had seen how it consumed everything in its path.
And then there was Elara.
Elara had come into Kaida's life like a sudden burst of light, the kind that blinded you before you even realized it was there. She was everything Kaida wasn't: rich, confident, and beautiful in a way that made people stop and take notice. Elara had come to the undercity out of curiosity, seeking to understand the lives of those who lived in the shadows, the lives that the people of the top city never saw. She had wandered into the depths of the undercity with a smile on her face, eager to learn, and Kaida had been there to guide her, to show her the world she knew so well. The two of them had become inseparable, drawn together by their differences and the unspoken connection they shared. But even then, Kaida kept the tattoo hidden, keeping the secret locked away deep within her.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Elara—it was that Kaida didn't trust herself. She wasn't sure what would happen if anyone knew the truth about her. She didn't know if she could control it, the power that surged beneath her skin.
But Elara had a way of seeing through Kaida's defenses. She had a way of making Kaida feel like she could trust her with everything, even things Kaida wasn't ready to face herself. And then, one night, after they had spent hours talking under the stars, Elara had asked the question that would change everything.
"What's on your back, Kaida?"
Kaida froze. She had felt it coming—the quiet curiosity in Elara's voice, the way her eyes lingered a little too long, the subtle shifts in the way Elara looked at her. Kaida had always known that one day, Elara would ask. She had always known that the moment would come when the secret would be exposed. But she hadn't been prepared for it. Her mind scrambled for an answer, but there was no easy explanation.
"It's nothing," Kaida had said, her voice too sharp, too quick. "Just... something I was born with."
But Elara had only smiled, not buying it for a second. "I don't believe you," she said softly. "I want to know you, Kaida. All of you."
Kaida had felt her chest tighten. She hadn't meant to lie. She hadn't meant to keep things from Elara, but she couldn't bring herself to tell her the truth. She couldn't tell her about the dragon on her back, about the power that lived inside her.
"I'm scared," Kaida had whispered. "You don't understand. I've never told anyone about it."
Elara had looked at her then, her eyes soft and understanding. "You don't have to be scared," she said gently. "I'll never hurt you, Kaida. I just want to know you."
But Kaida had pulled away, the weight of her secret pressing down on her. She wasn't ready. Not yet.
And then, a few days later, Elara had come to Kaida's room, her face pale and serious.
"I know," Elara had said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "I know what you're hiding."
Kaida had turned to look at her, her heart hammering in her chest. She had been found out. The moment Elara had seen the tattoo, Kaida knew nothing would ever be the same again.
Elara had reached for the edge of Kaida's shirt, pulling it back slightly, revealing the intricate, coiling dragon etched into Kaida's skin. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Elara's eyes were wide, her lips parted in shock, and Kaida felt a familiar dread curl in her stomach.
"You've been hiding this from me?" Elara had asked, her voice trembling with something Kaida couldn't quite place—was it fear? Disappointment?
Kaida had tried to explain, to tell Elara that she hadn't wanted to keep it from her, that it was something she didn't understand, something too dangerous to share. But Elara had stepped back, her expression hardening. "I thought I knew you," she had said softly. "But I don't know you at all."
Kaida had tried to reach for her, but Elara was already gone, walking out of the room without another word. Kaida had been left alone with the weight of the tattoo, the weight of the power it held, and the overwhelming sense of betrayal that had begun to build in her chest.
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The next morning, Kaida had been taken.
She hadn't known how they had found out about her, or how Elara had let them know, but the guards had come in the dead of night, dragging her from her room, chaining her hands and throwing her into the back of a cart. They hadn't said anything as they carted her through the streets of the undercity, past the familiar buildings she had known all her life, past the people who had once been her family, who now avoided her gaze, their faces turned away in fear.
Kaida hadn't known where they were taking her. She had only known that Elara wasn't there to stop it.
She had been locked in a cold, dark room in the heart of the top city, the stone walls pressing in on her from all sides. There was no warmth here, no light except for the flickering torches that lined the corridor outside her cell. The guards came and went, but they never spoke to her. They just watched her, their eyes cold and impassive.
But it wasn't the cold of the stone or the isolation that frightened Kaida. It was the tattoo on her back, burning with an intensity she couldn't explain. It was as though the power inside her was waiting for something—waiting for her to unlock it, to let it loose. But Kaida wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to unleash the power that could destroy everything.
The door to her cell creaked open, and Kaida looked up, startled. The guards were coming again, their heavy boots echoing off the stone floor. Kaida's heart raced in her chest, but she didn't move. She couldn't move. Not yet.
She was waiting for something. Waiting for the right moment.
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