Chapter 7
997 Words
“You dream of him.”
Vaeren’s voice shattered the quiet of the chamber like a blade to glass.
Xyra stiffened where she sat on the edge of the massive stone bed, her fingers twitching against the rough fabric of her tunic. She hadn’t heard him enter but of course she hadn’t. He moved like smoke, soundless and predatory, as if he were part of the shadows themselves.
“I don’t,” she muttered, staring at the glowing embers in the hearth.
“You say his name in your sleep.”
Xyra’s jaw clenched. She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge the quiet cruelty in his voice.
Kaelor.
His name was a wound inside her. An ache she couldn’t stop touching.
Vaeren stepped closer, the heat radiating from his body a relentless, suffocating presence.
“Your wolf howls for him,” he said, almost lazily. “It’s pathetic, really.”
Xyra shot to her feet, her chest heaving. “What do you want from me?”
Vaeren didn’t flinch. He only smiled, the firelight casting jagged shadows across his face.
“I already have what I want,” he said, voice like silk wrapping around thorns. “I have you.”
The words slid beneath her skin like poison, and her wolf thrashed against the bond, furious and caged.
“You have nothing,” she spat.
Vaeren tilted his head, amusement flickering in his ember-bright eyes. “You still don’t understand, do you?” He took another step, and she had to fight the instinct to retreat. “You think your resistance matters. That it makes you strong.”
He leaned in, his breath grazing her ear.
“But strength means nothing when you’re already mine.”
Xyra shoved him back, her palm colliding with his chest like a striking stone. He didn’t even budge but the movement was enough to snap her last thread of composure.
“I will never be yours,” she hissed.
Vaeren only laughed. And that laughter haunted her long after he left.
.
.
Days passed in a haze of venomous stares and silent suffocation.
Xyra kept to herself, prowling the fortress like a restless ghost. The guards didn’t speak to her. The courtiers only sneered. And the queen… Lyanna watched her from a distance like a predator waiting for her prey to bleed out.
But Xyra refused to break.
She explored every inch of the Drakarion, memorizing every corridor, every exit. She pressed her fingers against the obsidian walls, feeling the faint pulse of magic thrumming like a heartbeat. She studied the Vyrmguard soldiers, watching the way their scales gleamed in the sunlight, the way their movements shifted like living flame.
She learned. Because knowledge was a weapon. And if she couldn’t fight them yet, she’d prepare for the day she could. But every night, the bond pulsed stronger.
And every night, her dreams dragged her back to Kaelor, to the way he’d looked at her when she rejected their fate.
The devastation. The fury. The heartbreak. She woke gasping, clutching her chest, the ache of the severed bond almost unbearable.
Her wolf mourned. And Xyra hated herself for it.
~
One evening, unable to stand the suffocating walls, Xyra slipped into the queen’s garden.
The air smelled of smoke and molten earth, and the blackened flowers bloomed like charred skeletons against the volcanic rock. She knelt by a pool of lava, watching the way the molten surface rippled like living fire.
She missed home. Missed the scent of pine and snow. Missed her father’s steady presence, the way he’d touch her cheek and call her his fierce little warrior. Tears blurred her vision, and she angrily wiped them away.
She wouldn’t cry here. Not in this place. Not in his kingdom.
“Crying, little wolf?”
Xyra flinched, her entire body tensing. She turned to see Seraya standing at the edge of the garden, her red hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of flame.
Seraya was beautiful, painfully so. Her features sharp and regal, her golden scales shimmering against her skin like precious metal. She carried herself like she belonged here, like she’d been carved from the fortress itself.
“You don’t belong here,” Seraya sneered, crossing her arms. “You reek of weakness.”
Xyra slowly rose to her feet, her chest rising and falling with the effort of suppressing her wolf.
“Neither do you,” she shot back.
Seraya’s eyes narrowed. “I was promised to him before you even existed. Do you understand what you’ve taken from me?”
Xyra laughed bitterly. “I didn’t take anything. I never wanted this.”
Seraya’s lips curled into a snarl.
“Then reject him,” she hissed. “Let the bond destroy you. Die, and let him be free.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Because part of Xyra wanted that. Wanted to let the bond unravel her. Wanted to disappear. But she lifted her chin instead, clenching her fists.
“No,” she said.
Seraya’s eyes burned. “Then you’ll suffer.”
She stormed away, her silhouette vanishing into the fortress like a specter.
Xyra stood there, shaking, until the lava cooled to black.
That night, Xyra sat by the window again, staring out at the dragon colossi circling the spires.
Her heart ached. Her body ached. But her spirit…her spirit still burned. She traced the bond mark on her wrist, feeling the pulse of magic radiate through her bones. It felt like a collar. Like a leash.
But leashes could be broken. She didn’t know how. Didn’t know if it was even possible. But she’d find a way. Because she wasn’t going to die here.
She wasn’t going to let Vaeren win. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, its eyes glowing gold in her mind. We fought, the wolf growled, angrily.
Xyra clenched her jaw, breathing hard. Yes. They would fight. Even if it killed them both.
- Writer
