THE DRAGON OF THE CAMARGUE An ending in Legend and Fire

The Dragon of the Camargue is the final chapter in the Lacroix trilogy. The smoke of war has settled, but Franco Lacroix’s journey is far from over.

Back in France, he confronts the roots of a legacy that stretches back centuries—through knights and stable keepers, through kings and ghosts, through the fire-streaked birth of the Guardians of the Camargue, founded in 1512. He learns the truth of Lucien Lacroix, a commoner knighted by a man who himself rose from the dirt—a moment that changed the family forever, binding them to oaths few could bear.

Franco is no longer a boy running from ghosts. He’s a man chasing them. He is summoned to the south, where old allies and ancient enemies stir. Among them is a humble stable keeper—now aged and hidden—who once trained both Murin and Adhemar and whose quiet watch over the Camargue may turn the tide.

From the salt marshes of Arles to the stone corridors of Marseille, a final war unfolds. One of Murin’s old agents, present the night Franco’s path was first twisted by blood, emerges from the shadows. The man has nothing to gain—except redemption.

What follows is a silent war fought in corridors, in vineyards, in vaults. There are no grand battles. Only knives in the dark, truths unsheathed, and a final confrontation that will decide more than the fate of one man.

Franco may have survived the war. But the worst part of himself still lives—and it’s wearing Murin’s face.

When the smoke clears, Franco will understand the most brutal truth of all: Murin was right. All those years spent shaping him, breaking him, forging him into something beyond flesh—Murin believed Franco was the last of the breed. But Franco will now see it for what it truly was: that HE was the Dragon, and Murin was the last true cavalier. And in slaying him, Franco doesn’t become the hero—he becomes the Dragon, and the broken sword left behind. The knight falls, and the real Dragon is left standing, over a razed village now. And in the stillness, only ash remains. He was never the hero. He was the villain. And the man he just killed—the monster—was the hero, the last of the old breed. He remebered something Samuel said to him, "Just because you're sober, doesn't make you a saint."