The Witches Dragonbond

Chapter 3.

The campfire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the worn faces of Evelynn’s mismatched band of rebels. The scent of charred wood and damp earth mixed in the air, a stark contrast to the blood and sweat of battle still clinging to them. Evelynn, Axel, and Jasmine stood at the center of the gathering, their five companions listening intently.

The group was small but definitely formidable.

Rowan, a broad-shouldered man with dark, weathered skin and a thick beard, sat with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He had once been a blacksmith before King Harold’s taxes crushed his village into poverty.

Beside him, Callum, lean with sharp browneyes, absently spun a dagger between his fingers. A former thief, he was the quickest of them, both in mind and movement.

Mary and Lauren ,the two other women of the group, sat side by side. Mary, tall and sinewy, had once been a hunter, her aim nearly as deadly as Evelynn’s own.Lauren , the youngest among them, had been a healer’s apprentice before the war, her soft features hardened by loss.

The last of their number, Dain, was a mountain of a man with a heavy brow and a deep, rumbling voice. He had been a mercenary before finding purpose in the rebellion.

Evelynn let the silence settle before speaking. “The rogues were close—too close. Twelve of them, waiting in the brush near Wellwick.”

A murmur ran through the group. Wellwick was a small village, a day’s ride from their camp. It wasn’t a wealthy place, but it had crops, livestock, and people—enough to make it a target.

“They weren’t just passing through,” Jasmine added, arms crossed. “They were waiting. If we hadn’t found them first, they would have struck the village by nightfall.”

Rowan grunted. “A scouting party, then. Probably meant to soften the village up before a larger force moved in.”

Axel, pressing a cloth to his still-bleeding wound, nodded. “That’s what we’re thinking. Which means we need to act before Harold sends reinforcements.”

Dain exhaled sharply. “If Wellwick falls, the villages beyond it are next. Harold’s tactics don’t change—he starves out the rebellion by cutting off its support.”

Evelynn clenched her fists. She had seen it before. One burned village after another, people slaughtered or forced into servitude, their homes left in ruins. It was how she had lost her own family.

“We need a plan,” Mary said, her voice steady.

Lauren hifted closer to the fire, her expression thoughtful. “That village isn’t defenseless. If we warn them, they might be able to hold out. But they’ll need weapons, supplies… and someone to lead them.”

Jasmine let out a breath. “That’s a risk. If we openly support them, Harold will know we’re involved.”

“He already knows we exist,” Callum pointed out. “The question is—how much longer are we going to stay in the shadows?”

Silence followed. It was a dangerous move, but Evelynn knew they were running out of time.

“We warn Wellwick ,” she decided. “We get them ready. If Harold sends more rogues, we’ll be waiting.”

Rowan cracked his knuckles. “Then we fight.”

The fire crackled, illuminating the hardened resolve in each of their eyes.

For years, they had fought in the shadows, striking where they could, but never standing their ground for long. Now, the war was coming to them.

And this time, they wouldn’t run.

Evelynn stayed by the fire long after the others had begun preparing for rest. The embers glowed, burning deep into the night, as if they, too, refused to be snuffed out.

Jasmine sat beside her, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. “You’re thinking about them again.”

Evelynn didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Jasmine sighed, her voice quieter. “I dream about my parents sometimes. The way they used to laugh.” She hesitated. “Do you… ever dream of them?”

Evelynn swallowed. “I hear them.”

Jasmine turned to her.

“The screams,” Evelynn whispered. “Every night.”

Jasmine said nothing, only reaching out to place a hand on Evelynn’s arm. She didn’t offer empty reassurances or tell her that one day the memories would fade. They both knew better.

Instead, she simply said, “You know you aren’t alone.”

Evelynn let out a slow breath, nodding slightly .

She lifted her gaze to the sky, to the stars scattered like shattered colored glass. Somewhere just beyond them, she knew the dragon was out there. Waiting for her.

And deep in her bones, she knew—this was only the beginning of something huge that would change everything she knew forever.

For the first time in years, Evelynn drifted into sleep without the weight of nightmares pressing down on her. No screams, no burning villages, no blood-soaked memories waiting to drag her into the past.

Instead, she found herself standing in an endless expanse of silver mist. The air hummed with energy, crackling with something ancient and powerful. A gust of wind stirred the fog, and from its depths, a shadow emerged—massive, graceful, and terrible in its majesty.

A dragon.

His scales shimmered like molten gold, rippling with streaks of deep emerald. His eyes—strangely familiar—gleamed the same golden green as her own, burning with knowledge beyond time.

“You have finally heard my call.”

The voice resonated through her very bones, a deep and ageless sound that was neither spoken nor heard but felt.

Evelynn stepped forward, the ground beneath her feet shifting like liquid light. “Who are you?”

“I am one of many. And you, Evelynn Nightshade, are my soul-bound.”

She stiffened. “One of many? I thought—”

“That I was the last?” The dragon’s gaze darkened. “That is what your kind was led to believe. King Harold and those before him sought to erase us from the world, but we do not fall so easily. My kin still live, hiding in the forgotten places of the earth, waiting for the time to rise again.”

A flicker of hope flared in her chest. “Then why now? Why me?”

The dragon lowered his great head until she could see the intricate markings along his snout, ancient runes pulsing with a faint glow.

“Because you are the last of your kind. Your bloodline was once bonded to dragons, soul to soul, in an unbreakable tether. It was through this connection that witches once wielded their greatest power, and it was through this connection that my kind found purpose among yours. But that bond was lost—until now.”

He exhaled, and golden embers swirled in the mist.

“I am here to restore what was broken. I choose you, Evelynn. Our souls are already reaching for one another, drawn by fate. Together, we can end this war. Free my kin. Free your people.”

She met his gaze. “And if I accept?”

“Then our souls will be one. You will feel my presence as I will feel yours. Our strength will be shared, our fates intertwined. But know this—” The dragon’s eyes burned into hers. “One cannot live without the other. If you die, so will I. If I fall, you will follow.”

Evelynn closed her eyes. She had always felt different, had always known there was something inside her, restless and waiting. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was what she was meant for.

She opened her eyes, her voice steady. “I accept.”

The dragon let out a deep, earth-shaking growl, and the mist around them blazed with golden fire. Heat surged through her veins, not painful, but consuming. It filled every part of her, searing into her very essence.

And then—

Darkness.

Evelynn woke with a start, her body drenched in sweat, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The embers of the dying fire glowed softly, and for a moment, she lay still, half-expecting to see the dragon’s massive form looming above her.

But the dream was gone.

Only… it hadn’t been just a dream.

She could still feel him.

Deep inside, like a second heartbeat, a presence coiled in her chest, vast and watchful. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, something powerful and ancient that whispered at the edges of her consciousness.

Her hands trembled as she pushed herself upright.

It was real. The bond was real.

Swallowing hard, she steadied herself. There was no time to dwell on it now. She had a village to save.

By dawn, the group was ready to move. Evelynn packed her gear with practiced efficiency, but she could feel the dragon’s presence pressing at the edge of her awareness, making it harder to focus. Every so often, a whisper of thought that was not hers brushed against her mind—a pulse of feeling, a sense of something far away.

She clenched her fists, pushing it down.

“Eve?” Jasmine’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She glanced up to see her best friend watching her carefully. “What?”

Jasmine frowned. “You seem… off.”

Axel, who was checking the straps on his horse, chimed in, “Yeah, you’re usually sharp in the morning. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Evelynn forced a smirk. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “First time you’ve actually slept in years, and you’re still exhausted?”

Evelynn shrugged, keeping her expression neutral. “Let’s just focus on Wellwick. If those rogues were scouts, Harold won’t wait long to send more.”

Jasmine didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, adjusting the dagger at her hip. “Fine. But if something’s wrong, you’ll tell me, right?”

Evelynn hesitated.

She wasn’t ready to explain the impossible.

“Of course,” she lied.

With that, they mounted their horses and rode toward Wellwick, the wind at their backs.