The cavern pulsed with low, harmonic sound thrumming through the stone walls like heartbeat. Every echo carried Fremilde’s laughter with her melody, sharp and cruel, twining through the air like smoke.
Ligon staggered, his arms half-lowered. The strength of Fremilde’s song had wound around his mind like a coil of venomous worms. His pupils dilated, his body swaying toward her voice as though she were the center of gravity itself.
“Ligon!” Valia’s voice cracked through the air like lightning. She reached for him, but Fremilde only smiled wider, her eyes glimmering a poisonous shade of gold.
“Stay where you are, dragon-child,” Fremilde crooned. “Your alpha breathes to my rhythm now, his will belongs to me.”
The melody that followed was devastating. It wasn’t just a song, it was forceful
