A Possible Way Out
1227 Words
Lina POV
It’s been a month since I fell.
Since I was pushed.
Since everything I suspected became something I could no longer ignore.
I’m trying. Gods, I am trying.
I train until my legs tremble. I study until my eyes blur. I smile until my cheeks ache—until people believe I’m just tired or distracted or grieving her fall from grace.
But the truth?
I’m dying.
Not fast. Not violently.
It’s subtle—quiet and sharp like a dull knife under skin.
And worst of all, it’s not from a wound I can see.
I’m losing weight I can’t afford to lose. My head spins more often. My hands shake when I lace my boots. Sometimes I wake up gasping for breath like something is stealing the air from my lungs.
Training hasn’t helped.
In fact, every time I fight—every time I run or shift or try to claw power from whatever the hell I am—I get worse. Not better.
Which means this isn’t a block.
It’s sabotage.
And I know exactly who’s doing it.
⸻
I’ve never trusted Laura.
Even as a child, when others called her bright and beautiful and full of promise… I felt something cold beneath her warmth. Something calculated. Empty.
Now I know I was right.
Laura’s not just cruel.
She’s dangerous.
And I know—with certainty—she’s trying to kill me.
I don’t know how yet. But I feel it in my bones. I see it in the smirk she wears like perfume, in the way Dylan looks at her now—like he’s already forgotten me. Like he’s already replaced me.
I’m not stupid.
I’ve studied physiology. I know what the breaking of a mate bond does to the soul—how it slowly kills the one left behind if the bond is betrayed.
This is that.
Dylan is cheating.
Has been.
Every night he touches her instead of me, I feel it like acid under my skin. My breath shortens. My blood thins. My heart skips in strange, aching rhythms.
But it’s more than that.
It’s deliberate.
Targeted.
Like I’m being drained.
And yet—
Some part of me is getting stronger.
Something else is waking up.
A fire I don’t understand.
A presence that doesn’t belong to any dragon I’ve ever read about.
Sometimes I feel like I’m about to ignite—like something in me is clawing to the surface, begging to burn everything down and start over.
But I still can’t shift.
No wings. No heat. Nothing.
And no matter how deep I dig through council archives, healer’s records, ancient scrolls—I’ve found nothing about how to reverse a bonded mate.
No loopholes.
No precedents.
No escape.
⸻
Until now.
⸻
I come back to my room just after sunset. My muscles ache. My pulse is slow and thick. I want a hot bath and silence, but I freeze two steps through the door.
Something’s wrong.
Someone’s been here.
The air smells—
Campfire. Cedar. Smoke after rain.
Warm. Masculine. Wild.
It makes the thing inside me rear up sharply—so suddenly I have to grip the doorway for balance. It hums under my skin like recognition. Like instinct.
Like mate.
But that’s impossible.
I already have one.
Don’t I?
My heart stutters, then hammers.
I scan the room. Nothing’s out of place—until I see the edge of a book lying on my bed. Not one of mine.
Old leather. Gold-etched spine. Thin, ancient paper.
And on top of it…
A note.
Folded once.
My name written in elegant, unfamiliar script.
Lina.
I pick it up, hands trembling.
No seal. No symbol. No signature.
Just a few words:
“Stay strong Little Luna. I’m coming for you.”
I blink. I’m a bit terrified of this proclamation, but my bigger concern is getting free of Dylan and Laura before I truly die so I can put aside concerns on a potential stalker for now.
Then slowly, reverently, open the book.
My breath leaves my lungs in a single, ragged exhale.
It’s a text on mate bonds.
Rare.
Forbidden.
Hidden from general access.
And right there—marked in faded ink and dragon glyphs—is a heading that makes my entire world tilt:
“Severance Through Sovereignty: Appealing to the Dragon King.”
I sink onto the bed, the book clutched to my chest, and for the first time in weeks—
I breathe.
Because maybe…
Just maybe…
Someone heard me. I put that thought aside for now and get straight to work.
The book creaked as I opened it fully, its spine worn and whispering secrets.
The scent of ash and cedar still clung to it—his scent—whoever he was. Whoever had left this here. Whoever had seen me.
My fingers trembled as I flipped through the first few pages, scanning delicate ink and faded glyphs, until the chapter revealed itself in bold, old-dragon script:
“Severance Through Sovereignty: The Path to Breaking a Bond.”
I leaned closer, heart pounding in my throat.
This wasn’t theory.
This was ritual.
Law.
⸻
“Mate bonds,” it began, “are threads woven by fate and sealed by instinct. But like all threads, they can fray… and they can be cut.”
“If a bond becomes poisoned—through infidelity, abuse, or magical interference—there exists a path to sever it. But only by appealing to a power higher than the bond itself: the Dragon King.”
My breath hitched.
There it was.
“This appeal must be made directly. The bound wolf or dragon must stand before the king, state their case, and show proof of betrayal or magical coercion. If granted, the King may sever the bond… but the cost is high.”
I swallowed hard.
“The severed party is marked. The bond burned away. If another bond exists, it may then rise. If not…”
The next words chilled me.
“…the soul risks collapse.”
⸻
I sank deeper into the bed, book open in my lap, heart a tangle of dread and fire.
So that’s why they hide it.
The Dragon Council doesn’t want Lunas and mates seeking freedom. They want control. They want silence. They want suffering to stay quiet and bonded for life, even when the bond is nothing but a noose.
And the cost?
To stand in front of the Dragon King was no simple thing. It wasn’t like writing a letter. You had to go to court. Be seen. Be heard. Submit yourself for judgment in front of the highest seat in the realm.
And I…
I was unshifted.
Weak.
Alone.
But not unarmed anymore.
⸻
I need evidence.
I could feel the fire in my chest settle into something razor-sharp.
I need to document the betrayal. The manipulation. The magic. I need to gather everything—every bruise, every lie, every whispered word Laura has ever used to twist this world against me. Although it makes me sick to my stomach to think about what I must witness, the alternative is literally death.
I need to survive long enough to reach the court.
And most of all—
I need to keep training.
Because this body may be breaking…
But something inside me is learning how to burn.
- Writer
