The last Wishkeeper

Chapter 2 – The Queen’s Hounds

Chains bit into Selene’s wrists as the soldiers dragged her across the muddied road. Rain fell in cold sheets, soaking her hair, her clothes, her bones. Every stumble earned her a sharp jerk, every breath a reminder that her freedom had slipped away in a single reckless moment.

She had heard the stories of the Queen’s hounds, but nothing had prepared her for their cruelty. Their armor gleamed even beneath the storm, crimson cloaks plastered to their backs, boots cutting deep prints into the earth. They moved with purpose, like predators who had already tasted blood.

The officer in crimson rode just ahead on a black steed, its eyes burning with torchlight. He glanced back at her from time to time, that same twisted smile never far from his lips.

“You should feel honored,” he said, voice rising above the storm. “Most peasants die nameless in the mud. You, girl, will serve the crown itself.”

Selene spat mud from her mouth. “I’d sooner die than serve your queen.”

He chuckled as though amused by a child. “Oh, you will serve. Wishkeepers always do. Their power is too precious to waste.”

The word clawed at her chest again Wishkeeper. She barely understood what it meant. Her father had always kept the truth from her, burying it beneath silence and warnings. She knew only this: her wishes twisted the world, unpredictable, dangerous. And now, because she had failed to hide it, she was a prisoner.

They marched through the night until the storm broke at dawn. The sky bled gray as the first light touched the horizon. Selene’s legs trembled with exhaustion. Her wrists were raw, her throat parched. At last, the officer raised a hand, signaling a halt.

They camped in the ruins of an old watchtower, half-swallowed by ivy and time. The soldiers lit a fire, their laughter coarse as they traded jests. Selene was shoved against the crumbling wall, her chains tethered to a rusted iron hook. She sank to her knees, biting back the wave of despair that threatened to break her.

She thought of Lyra. Was her sister safe? Had she escaped? The memory of her father’s frail voice urging Lyra to run tore at her heart. She prayed, though prayers had never answered her before, that Lyra would not be caught in this same nightmare.

The officer approached as the soldiers dozed, his shadow falling long across the stones. He crouched before her, eyes glinting like wet steel.

“You’ve not yet realized the gift you carry, have you?” he said softly, almost kindly. “Wishes are the marrow of the world, girl. Yours can bend reality itself. The Queen will teach you to wield it. She’ll shape you into something far greater than this…” His gaze swept her mud-stained clothes, her bleeding wrists. “…peasant husk.”

Selene met his stare with quiet defiance. “And what if I refuse?”

His smile deepened, but there was no warmth in it. “Then she will break you until you beg to obey.”

He rose, turning away, leaving her with nothing but the fire’s glow and the gnawing dread in her chest.

Hours passed. The soldiers slept, their snores echoing in the ruin. Selene stared at the flames, trying not to let fear consume her. But fear was relentless, coiling in her belly like a serpent.

Then movement.

From the shadowed treeline beyond the tower came a sound soft as a whisper: the shuffle of leaves, the faint scrape of claw against stone. Selene’s breath caught. The soldiers stirred, uneasy in their dreams. Even the officer’s horse stamped nervously.

The air shifted. Heavy. Charged.

A low growl rolled across the clearing, deep enough to rattle Selene’s bones. She peered into the dark, heart hammering. Two eyes glowed back at her, vast, golden, and unblinking.

Her blood froze.

A dragon.

She had seen sketches in old books, heard the elders speak of them as legends long dead. Yet here, standing tall as the trees, was no myth. Scales shimmered like molten bronze, wings folded tight against its back. Smoke curled from its nostrils with each rumbling breath.

The soldiers woke with curses, scrambling for their weapons. Panic broke through their bravado.

“Hold fast!” the officer barked, though his own voice wavered. He drew his blade, crimson cloak snapping in the wind.

The dragon stepped forward, massive claws sinking into the earth. Its gaze swept the camp, then settled on Selene.

Her chains rattled as she tried to shrink back. But something strange happened its eyes softened. The growl quieted. It tilted its head, as though recognizing her.

The soldiers lunged. Steel clashed, arrows flew. The dragon’s roar split the dawn, a sound so powerful it felt like the sky itself cracked. Fire erupted from its maw, engulfing men and stone alike. The ruin blazed, soldiers screaming as flame devoured them.

Selene cowered against the wall, heat searing her skin. Her chains held fast. Smoke clawed her throat. She was trapped.

Then, through the inferno, the dragon moved. It lowered its colossal head before her, eyes burning bright as suns.

“Wishkeeper,” a voice thundered not aloud, but inside her mind. It was ancient, resonant, and undeniable. “At last.”

Selene’s breath hitched. “You… you can speak?”

“Your fate is bound to mine,” the dragon rumbled. “I have waited long for you.”

Her chains rattled as she lifted trembling hands. “Then free me.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. Smoke curled once more from its nostrils. “Wish it.”

Her heart pounded. Fear, awe, and desperation all swirled within her. She closed her eyes, spoke the words that rose unbidden to her lips.

“I wish… to be free.”

Light burst from her chest, white and fierce. The chains shattered like glass, fragments scattering across the stones. Selene gasped, clutching her arms, the taste of lightning on her tongue.

When she opened her eyes, the dragon was still there, watching her intently. Around them, the camp lay in ruins, fire devouring what remained. The soldiers were gone ash and silence where once they had stood.

Only she and the dragon remained.

Selene staggered to her feet, heart still racing. “Why me?” she whispered.

The dragon lowered its head, its golden gaze steady.

“Because, Wishkeeper, the war has already begun.”