Dragon of a Broken World

Chapter 2

Days dragged by with unbearable weight,every hour pulled me closer to a wedding I had never agreed to. I was uneasy, not just because of the wedding but because of the secrets hanging over me like an undefined darkness I could not name. Despair crept into my chest like a thief in the night, stealing my breath and leaving me hollow.

Security at home was suffocating. Watchful eyes and locked doors wrapped around me like a shroud. Each click of a bolt reminded me of my impending fate. Running away felt less like an escape and more like a hopeless mission.

I drowned in boredom, trapped within the gilded cage of my room. The walls that had once been comforting now felt like a prison. My gaze drifted aimlessly until it landed on a forgotten box in the corner, shrouded in dust and shadow. My father had forbidden me to touch it.

A surge of frustration and curiosity propelled me to my feet. The box had been a birthday gift from my grandfather, a man whose memory was tied to warmth and gentle smiles. He gave it to me when I was nine, a nod to my love for music, a passion long stifled and hidden. My father, rigid and controlling, had dismissed all my passions as distractions from a life of propriety, alliances, and expectation.

Anger rose hot and defiant, what more could I fear? My dreams had already been severed by my father’s betrayal when he sold me to the Wilsons for marriage. With trembling hands, I lifted the lid. Dust swirled like buried suspicions and forced a cough from my chest. The air smelled of old wood and forgotten things.

“What the heck?” I whispered in disbelief. Nestled inside, its glossy dark wood gleaming faintly in the dim light, lay a guitar. Its curves were elegant. Its strings glinted like thin silver, a promise of untold melodies.

Panic and joy twisted together in my chest. My grandfather had given me a secret treasure hidden in plain sight, and I had never known it existed. Nostalgia washed over me and lit a spark of the girl who had once dreamed of melodies and stages. My fingers hovered over the strings. Almost reverently, I strummed. The rich, deep sound filled the quiet room, washing away my anxieties in a warm, euphoric wave. It felt like coming home.

Without warning, Lina barged into my room, her face carved with irritation.

“Hey, what’s that box, weirdo?” she demanded, not paying much attention to the instrument. Her voice cut through the lingering hum of the guitar and caught me off guard.

I flinched. Her sudden intrusion came at the same moment a chill ran through me. The air, sweet with music only a moment ago, now buzzed with a strange, unsettling energy. My skin prickled.

“Did you feel that?” I whispered, searching her eyes for understanding.

“Feel what?” she asked, narrowing her gaze.

“It’s like… something is here. I felt a weird chill,” I began, but she cut me off.

“Enough. The Wilsons are here for you,” she snapped, shattering the fragile connection I had sensed in the room.

“What?” Terror sparked within me at the mention of Edgar’s family. “Just get out of my room, Lina. I’m not interested in seeing them,” I said, exhausted.

She shot back, venom in her voice. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” The resentment that had hidden behind her smile finally showed itself.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded, furious and bewildered.

“For you to be the crown jewel while I’m left in the shadows. You want it all to yourself,” she spat. Her words were a low snarl, her eyes burning with something I had not fully grasped until that moment: jealousy, plain and raw.

“What’s wrong with you?” I retorted, stunned by the venom she had kept inside.

“You know I’ve always had feelings for Edgar,” she continued. “Now you’ve taken him from me, just like everything else. Even though you’ve never been a real asset to Father’s company, you still manage to steal what should have been mine. Like a snake.”

Her accusation landed sharply. Two things were clear in that instant: her eyes were burning with jealousy and rage, and the truth of her feelings for Edgar had been hidden until now.

Although Lina and I had nothing in common and were not close, I usually tried to avoid provoking her, because deep down I knew she was capable of a lot. I finally managed to shape a reply.

“Lina, we both know that’s not true. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You were there when Dad announced it out of the blue. You’re drowning in jealous fantasies over something that isn’t even real. I can’t even stand Edgar,” I snapped, fury fueling me.

“Save your excuses,” she cut me off. “I don’t need them.” Her smirk was cruel. “Unlike you, I won’t cause a scene. I’ll leave this conversation for later,” she said, already stepping away. Then, coldly, she added, “Oh, Camellia and her boyfriend are downstairs too. So just behave.”

Wait… Camellia is here? Since when did she have a boyfriend? I brightened at the thought of seeing my best friend. She had told me she was going on a three-day trip with her parents.

Lina stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The echo left the room hollow and silent. I had not realized Lina felt like this. The day had already been chaotic enough. Just as I pushed myself off the bed, the feeling returned.

The air grew thicker and heavier again, like the stagnant heat of a late summer evening pressed behind closed doors. My guitar slipped slightly on my thigh; the polished wood felt slick in my clammy hand. Then, in the corner of my vision, something moved, a flicker at the periphery, a shadow that slid with impossible grace.

I snapped my head around. Time constricted. Sound vanished. Every movement froze. There he stood, draped in black, radiating a cold, uncanny aura that sent my thoughts spinning as if someone had cut the strings of my reason. His brown gold hair caught the light, gleaming like molten metal, and for a heartbeat his eyes flared like a phoenix igniting, scorching my mind before settling back into an unsettling, piercing calm. The brief flash left a mark I could not shake, a presence that felt impossible and real all at once.

For a heartbeat I forgot how to breathe. My lungs seized. My heart hammered so loudly I feared it would drown the guitar’s gentle hum. A shift in the air, a dense, charged pressure, announced his arrival. One moment nothing. The next he stood there, as if stepping out of the shadows themselves.

Fear nearly pulled a scream from me. I fought to regain composure.

“Who… who are you?” I stammered, disbelief wrapping itself around my voice.

His gaze locked on me and would not let go. It was not casual. It was a stare that belonged to lost things: ghosts, curses, unremembered promises. A shiver ran down my spine. My mouth went dry. He looked at me as though I had done him irreparable harm or else had somehow saved him. It felt as if I were the worst and the best thing he had ever encountered at the same time. Between us hung something thick and electric, a connection that both terrified and fascinated me.

He whispered, barely audible, as if he had not realized he had spoken aloud. “Aurora.”

The name landed in my ears like a stone dropped in still water. It stirred something faint and distant in me, a memory with blurred edges I could not grasp. For a breath, everything seemed impossible and raw. I tried to steady my thoughts. I told myself I was hallucinating, anything to cling to the ordinary.

“Who are you? How did you get in?” I asked, sarcasm trembling in my voice, trying to mask the fear tightening my chest. “A trickster? A comic book villain? A thief?” The words tumbled out fast and desperate, but even as I spoke, my mind went blank. I glanced at the window for evidence: no broken glass, no rope, no sign of forced entry.

He looked at me with a changed expression, less surprised than before. He took one deliberate step forward. I stepped back. A deep, primal fear coiled tight in my gut.

“Why are you scared of me?” his voice rumbled low and even, like something moving through the floorboards.

“Why? Who wouldn’t be scared?” I stammered. “You literally came out of nowhere. Please don’t hurt me.” My words came clumsy and frantic; bargaining felt like the only shelter my mind could find.

His gaze lingered on me, unblinking, as if measuring something beyond words. Then, at last, he spoke, his voice low, soft, yet absolute.

“You summoned me, Aurora.”

The statement cracked the quiet like a thrown stone.

“What?” I cried, louder than intended, the sound sharp enough to carry downstairs.

At that exact moment my mother banged angrily on the door and burst in, fury carved across her face.

“Elizabeth, are you insane?” she yelled. “You’re talking to yourself now? Seriously?”

“Mom!” I gasped, every ounce of shock and urgency wrapped inside that single word. “Did you see that? There was someone.” I spun to point, but the corner where he had stood was empty. He had vanished as though dissolved into thin air, leaving only a faint tang of ozone and something old I could not name.

My mother’s face hardened. “Don’t start this,” she snapped. “The Wilsons are here, and you’re up here doing God knows what. Stop this nonsense, or you might end up in rehab. But at least before that, get married to Edgar Wilson. This marriage is important to us not because of you but because it is important. What part of that don’t you get?”

“But I swear, Mom, someone was just here.” I tried to explain, then I looked at the corner of my room and there was literally no one.

“Now get up and meet me downstairs in seconds.” She slammed the door and left me with the ringing silence of her words.

Her words were hurtful and demanding at the same time. Thoughts of confusion echoed in my mind, a pleading I could not answer. I had to make myself believe I had seen nothing. That was the only way to remain whole.

I fled the room, trembling with terror, unaware of what awaited me downstairs.