The Fallen Princess: Unbound

Chapter Nine

The camp outside the annex sprung to life with renewed purpose the moment Callen lifted his hand. Men moved in coordinated urgency. Armor was removed with practiced efficiency, discarded like a shell.

Cloaks were handed off. Weapons were secured. The air filled with the low murmur of orders and the quiet awe of soldiers who knew they were riding beside something mythic.

“Shift,” Callen commanded. The change was never quiet. Bones stretched. Muscle rippled. Breath turned into something deeper, older. Scales broke across skin in bursts of light. Wings unfurled with gusts strong enough to scatter loose dust across the courtyard.

One by one, dragons stood where knights had been—crimson, silver, green, black, cobalt—massive bodies coiling with power, eyes burning with sentience and loyalty.

At their center, Callen transformed slower than the rest, deliberate as if the magic obeyed him out of respect. Golden light erupted from his skin, engulfing him in a blaze. He rose, grew, until he towered over them all, gilded scales shimmering like sunlight striking a blade.

When his wings snapped open, the air itself seemed to tremble. Zaria’s breath caught, even though she’d seen him before. He was still capable of undoing her with sheer presence.

Callen lowered his great head until his luminous eyes were level with hers—gentle, knowing. He crouched, extending one wing in an unmistakable invitation. Zaria didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, placed her hand along the ridge of his neck, and climbed with the practiced grace of someone who had learned the shape of him by heart.

His scales cooled slightly beneath her touch—responsive, protective. When she settled between the powerful muscles of his shoulders, Callen shifted his wings to shield her from the worst of the wind.

Nearby, Zakai mounted a dark green dragon with the ease of long familiarity. Aldric, after a brief argument with a handler about “proper form,” climbed onto a sleek silver beast that looked mildly offended to be carrying a human.

Koen approached last. He didn’t look impressed by the dragons. He didn’t look intimidated either. He moved with calm inevitability, stepping toward a black-scaled dragon that lowered itself to allow him passage as if Koen belonged among monsters simply because he refused to fear them.

When Koen’s gaze flicked briefly to Zaria, it wasn’t comfort or reassurance. It was a silent acknowledgement: We’re doing this.

Then the battalion launched. The force of takeoff stole Zaria’s breath. She clutched the ridge between Callen’s wings as the world dropped away in a blur of stone and rooftops.

Above them, clouds parted around their formation like they were being forced aside by ancient gods. Wind tore at her cloak, but Callen’s wings kept her steady, his body a living fortress beneath her.

The flight was long. The farther south they flew, the warmer the air became, winter giving way to damp coastal breath. Zaria’s legs went numb from holding position; her fingers stiffened from gripping scaled gold.

Beneath them, the sea stretched endless and deep blue, sunlight glinting off its surface like scattered coin. In the distance, small dots of land appeared, dark shapes against endless water.

As dusk approached, the dragons began to slow, circling lower through thinning cloud. A narrow plateau jutted out over treetops, a sliver of stone and sand embraced by ocean on one side and dense jungle on the other.

They descended in tight spirals. When Callen touched down, it was with controlled predator precision: talons digging into earth, wings flaring for balance. Zaria felt the impact in her bones, but he crouched immediately, letting her slide down safely.

Her boots met moss-covered stone. Warm air hit her face, humid and sweet, heavy with saltwater and tropical flower scent. The sun hung low, a molten disk sinking toward the horizon, casting the island in gold.

Behind them, the jungle rose up like a living wall. Towering trees draped in thick vines, leaves shimmering with hidden movement. The soundscape changed immediately: insects humming, waves crashing below, distant calls that didn’t belong to any bird Zaria recognized.

A series of soft clicks echoed from the foliage. The clicks became chirps. Then a bizarre, melodic sequence, as if the jungle itself was laughing. Zaria turned toward the trees, curiosity flaring.

Callen’s arm slid around her middle without hesitation, pulling her close in a way that would have made courtiers whisper back home. Here, among knights and dragons and wild land, he didn’t care.

“It’s monkeys,” he said, voice low. Zaria blinked. “Monkeys?” Callen’s mouth tilted. “Small furry creatures. Curious. Mischievous.” His gaze stayed on the treeline, though. “And not the most dangerous thing that lives here.”

Aldric wandered closer, grinning as if the island was an amusement park built for him. “Princess, if one of them steals my boot, I will declare war.” Zakai’s expression remained flat. “I’m sure they’ll care.”

The men began setting camp with practiced speed. Firewood was gathered. A fire was built in a shallow pit near the plateau center, flames crackling warm against the creeping dusk. Bedrolls were rolled out in a circle close to the light. Guards were assigned without fuss.

Zaria sat near the fire with her cloak wrapped tight, warming her hands. The heat soothed her aching limbs, but her eyes kept flicking toward the jungle beyond the fire’s reach. She could feel eyes watching—small, curious, numerous.

Callen crouched beside her, still scanning the trees. “You mustn’t go into the brush,” he warned, voice quiet but firm. “My men know the trails. You don’t.” Zaria’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to.” Callen’s gaze slid to her, unimpressed. “You absolutely were.”

Zaria huffed. “Fine.” She waited until he loosened his hold around her, then rose and walked, very deliberately, only to the edge of the treeline. Not into it. Just close enough that the jungle breathed on her with damp, warm air.

She reached into her satchel, pulled out a small strip of dried meat, and placed it on a flat rock. A creature dropped down with startling grace, round face, oversized ears, long clever fingers and snatched it up before vanishing back into leaves. Chirps erupted in amused chorus.

Zaria grinned despite herself. “Be careful, Princess,” a knight called as he emerged with more wood. His gaze kept drifting toward the deeper jungle. “They’re curious, not aggressive. But keep an eye on the food.”

“And the trees,” another muttered. “I saw something farther inland. Tall. Feathers and horns. It disappeared when I blinked.”

Zaria’s skin tightened, not prickling, not panicking, just that subtle tension that meant pay attention. She looked toward the shadowed line of jungle and felt the island’s patience. Old, watching, unmoved.

Callen appeared at her shoulder, frustration etched into his face. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and guided her back toward the fire. “Let’s not overstay our welcome,” he said quietly. “We leave at dawn. Sleep while you can.”

Zaria nodded, chastened enough to stop poking at the wilderness like it was a puzzle box. Night fell fast. The jungle sounds grew louder, stranger, melodic calls threading through darkness, waves crashing below like a heartbeat.

They slept in a tight circle near the fire, weapons within reach. Aldric made a dramatic show of complaining about sand in his bedroll, then fell asleep almost instantly. Zakai took first watch without comment.

Koen sat a little apart from the others, face angled toward the dark jungle, eyes reflecting faint firelight like embers sunk deep into coals. He didn’t sleep. Or if he did, it was the kind of rest that never fully surrendered awareness.

Callen lay beside Zaria, his arm heavy across her middle, pulling her close to the solid warmth of him. He didn’t care who saw. The knights pretended they didn’t. Zaria turned her face toward him, firelight flickering in his gold eyes. “How did you know they were monkeys?”

“I’ve been here before,” Callen murmured. Zaria smiled softly, snuggling closer. “What other places have you been to.” Callen’s expression softened into something almost wistful. “The world is wide, Zaria.”

He traced slow patterns along her sleeve, fingers grounding her. “Forests in the north where the trees stretch so high they look like they touch the sky. Deserts where the dunes sing in the wind. Cold peaks where the snow never melts.”

Zaria’s heart fluttered at the picture. “And where would you go,” she asked quietly, “if you could choose.” Callen’s gaze held hers. “Somewhere far from cities,” he said, voice low. “Where the stars are clearer. Where days feel endless and no one is waiting with a crown in their hands.”

Zaria swallowed, imagining it so vividly it hurt. “Could we go there.” Callen’s thumb brushed her knuckles. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “We’ll go wherever you wish… as long as I’m by your side.”

Zaria’s breath hitched, the longing of it tightening her chest. “Then let’s go everywhere,” she whispered. “Let’s see the world. The real world.” Callen’s mouth curved faintly. “Together,” he promised, softer than the waves. “Always.”

Zaria drifted toward sleep with that promise wrapped around her like another blanket—warm, aching, precious. Somewhere beyond the fire’s glow, the jungle kept singing. And in the darkness by the treeline, something tall shifted once, quiet as a breath, and then was gone.