Chapter 10
1131 Words
“You should have knelt.”
The voice came from the corner of the lavish chamber.
Xyra turned her head sharply, her violet eyes locking onto Seraya, who stood near the tall, arched window. Moonlight reflected off the fiery strands of her hair, making her look like a living ember.
Xyra didn’t respond. She was exhausted—physically, mentally. The events of the day clung to her like a second skin, suffocating, relentless. But she would not give Seraya the satisfaction of seeing her weak.
Seraya smirked, stepping closer, her silk gown flowing like liquid fire. “Do you think this changes anything?” she whispered, eyes gleaming with something sharp. “You might be his fated, but you will never be his queen.”
Xyra clenched her fists, willing herself to stay silent.
Seraya tilted her head, studying her. “You don’t belong here, wolf. Draganthar is a kingdom of fire and sky. You are neither.”
The truth of those words was a dagger, but Xyra refused to let it sink in.
Instead, she met Seraya’s gaze and said, “Then why do I sense fear in your voice?”
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then, Seraya’s lips curled, her amusement returning. “Fear?” she echoed, laughing softly. “No, little wolf. You mistake my amusement for fear. Because unlike you, I know my place here. And unlike you, I have nothing to prove.”
Xyra stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Then why are you here?” she asked, voice low. “Why not let Vaeren deal with me himself?”
Seraya’s smirk didn’t falter, but her fingers twitched slightly at her side.
Xyra saw it.
And Seraya saw that she saw it.
“I wanted to see what could possibly make him choose you,” Seraya admitted, stepping back toward the door. “Now that I have, I can say with certainty—you are nothing.”
The door opened. She walked out without another word. But Xyra knew this was only the beginning.
Alone, she took in her surroundings.
The chamber was grand, suffocatingly so. Dark obsidian walls shimmered with veins of molten gold, as if the very stone carried the lifeblood of dragons. A massive bed of black silk and crimson velvet stood at the center, its carved frame depicting scenes of battle—Drakenlords in their true forms, wings spread wide as they soared above burning cities.
The ceiling stretched high, its arches resembling the ribcage of some long-dead titan.
And yet, for all its grandeur, it was still a cage.
Her wrists still bore faint markings from the ritual that bound her to Vaeren. Her body ached from the pain of everything she had left behind.
Kaelor. Her father. Her people.
She had stood before them, before the council of her own kind, and rejected the fate she was born for.
The look in Kaelor’s eyes haunted her still—the betrayal, the devastation. The pain in her father’s face as she was taken, as he did nothing to stop it.
She had lost everything.
And now, she was here, in a kingdom that did not want her, bound to a man she did not want.
A man who had yet to force her submission.
But he would. Eventually, he would. Her wolf stirred, restless, uneasy. She needed to escape.
.
.
.
The night stretched long. Xyra stood by the balcony, staring out at Vyrmora. The capital fortress of the Drakenlords was unlike anything she had ever seen.
It floated above the Emberpeak Spires, suspended between sky and fire, its obsidian towers piercing the heavens. Below, the molten rivers of the volcanic peaks glowed like the veins of a slumbering god.
The air was thick with magic, wild, untamed, humming beneath her skin.
The people of Draganthar moved through the streets below, their figures shimmering under the lantern lights. They were impossibly beautiful, their features sculpted like beings of legend, their golden armor polished to a blinding sheen.
And they all hated her. She could feel their disdain, their rejection. A werewolf among dragons. An abomination. Her wolf paced inside her, unsettled.
The door creaked open. She turned sharply. Vaeren.
He stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room, heavy and unshakable. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim firelight. He was still in his armor, the black and gold metal reflecting the warm glow of the braziers.
For a long moment, he simply watched her.
Then, he spoke.
“You stood before my court today and defied me.”
His voice was unreadable—calm, smooth. But Xyra wasn’t fooled.
She lifted her chin. “I did.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He took a slow step forward. “Do you think yourself brave?”
She didn’t answer.
He tilted his head slightly. “Do you think it makes you strong?”
Still, she said nothing.
His golden eyes burned. “It makes you foolish.”
Xyra clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. “Then kill me.”
The words left her lips before she could stop them.
A sharp silence followed.
Vaeren stared at her, his expression unreadable.
Then, He laughed. A low, dark sound that sent chills up her spine.
“Kill you?” he repeated, stepping closer. “No, Xyra. That would be mercy.”
The space between them vanished.
Her breath caught as he reached out, brushing a single finger along the mark carved into her wrist.
The bond flared.
Her wolf snarled inside her, rejecting it.
But something deeper, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, stirred as well.
Vaeren’s smirk deepened.
“You will kneel,” he murmured. “Not because I demand it.”
His fingers curled around her wrist, his grip unyielding but not cruel.
“But because the bond will consume you if you don’t.”
Xyra jerked her hand away, breathing hard.
She hated that he was right.
She hated that she could feel it, a slow-burning fire spreading through her veins, winding itself around her like an unseen chain.
Vaeren studied her for a moment longer. Then, he turned.
“I leave for the borderlands at dawn,” he said, heading for the door. “You will remain here until I return.”
She stiffened. “And if I refuse?”
Vaeren glanced at her over his shoulder, amusement flickering in his golden eyes.
“Then try to leave,” he said simply.
Then he was gone. The door shut behind him, sealing her within the golden cage once more.
Xyra exhaled shakily, her pulse unsteady. She had thought she could fight this.
But now, as the fire of the bond coiled around her, relentless and consuming, She wasn’t so sure anymore.
- Writer
