The Fallen Princess: Unbound

Chapter Ten

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, spilling pale gold across the island in slow, quiet layers. The jungle that had looked so ominous by firelight softened under morning, greens deepening, dew brightening leaves like polished glass, the ocean beyond catching the sun until it glittered like a sheet of hammered metal.

Zaria sat up in her bedroll and stretched carefully, feeling the pull in muscles that still remembered labor. The night had been warm, the air thick, but morning had brought a cooler breeze off the water that felt like a clean hand against her skin.

The crash of waves below the plateau was steady, patient. A constant hum that soothed the parts of her mind that wanted to race ahead. Across the camp, Callen was already on his feet. He stood with that quiet authority that didn’t require a raised voice or a drawn blade, just presence.

Golden eyes tracked the perimeter, took inventory of men and supplies and sky. His posture was relaxed only in the way a predator could be relaxed: all contained potential. Men stirred around him, packing gear, stamping sand from boots, dousing the last faint embers of the fire.

The monkeys from the night before had vanished into the treetops, their strange clicks replaced by ordinary morning sounds, wind through leaves, the distant flutter of birds, the soft scrape of leather as straps were tightened.

“Morning,” Zaria called, voice rough with sleep as she stood and crossed toward him. Callen’s gaze softened when it found her, just slightly, enough to remind her that beneath the commander there was still a man trying to keep his world intact.

“We leave soon,” he said, and it was both statement and warning. “I know.” She adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, fingers briefly lingering at the clasp like it could steady her nerves. “Just give me a moment.”

Callen watched her for a beat, long enough to see the fatigue she tried to hide, long enough to see the resolve underneath it. Then he moved to speak with the captain, voice low, concise, giving orders for their route.

Zaria gathered the few items she’d scattered near her bedroll. The bag of dried meat she’d left near, stolen in the night by curious hands. She found herself smiling despite the looming journey, small thefts felt almost comforting compared to curses and war.

A knight approached, bowing slightly with that careful respect soldiers gave her now, half loyalty, half awe. “All packed, Princess. We’re ready to move out.” “Thank you,” Zaria said, offering him a brief smile.

The sun climbed higher, warming the sand and stone. Shadows shifted. The camp snapped into formation. Then came the familiar ritual, armor to the ground, bodies shedding human shape like a garment.

The sound of it was always a little violent: bone and muscle and magic reshaping into something ancient. Wings unfurled with gusts strong enough to stir the treeline. Scales flashed in the light. Callen shifted last.

When his great head lowered toward her, his eyes were still Callen’s, gentle beneath the power. He crouched, offering her his wing. Zaria climbed without hesitation. The moment she was settled, his wings lifted around her like a shield, and with a single coordinated surge the dragons launched into the morning sky.

The island fell away beneath them, quickly becoming a jewel of green and sand surrounded by endless blue. Zaria’s legs went numb; She tried to shift her weight carefully, but the wind was relentless, tugging at her cloak and hair like it wanted to peel her free.

Gradually the coastline changed. Blue water gave way to craggy bluffs, and thick banks of mist curled over forested cliffs like breath from something sleeping.

Beneath the cloud cover, the land was jagged, ridgelines like broken teeth, dark valleys veined with old roads and forgotten ruins. Even from this height, Zaria could feel the difference in the air. Not just geography. Pressure. Magic.

Callen’s body shifted subtly beneath her as they approached, more alert now, tense and watching. She felt it in the way his wings adjusted, in the way his descent became controlled and deliberate. They were close.

The other dragons slowed, circling lower through mist. They descended in tight spirals toward a narrow plateau jutting out above the treetops like a broken shelf of stone.

A gust of wind whipped through the clearing as they dropped below the cloudline, and the forest below groaned. An old sound, not quite wind, not quite animal. As if the land itself disliked being watched.

They touched down in staggered thuds. The air filled with low growls and the snapping crackle of shifting bodies as some of the dragons became men again. Armor was strapped back on. Weapons were checked. Leather tightened. Steel whispered.

Callen shifted last, his golden form folding into the tall, muscled frame Zaria knew so well. The moment he was human, he reached for her hand as if it was instinct, as if touching her was the only way to reassure himself she was still real.

The captain stepped forward, face grim. “Perimeter secure, Your Highness. But…” His gaze drifted toward the distant trees. “We’re not alone.”

Zaria’s pulse quickened. She could feel it too... something beneath the surface, a ripple in the air the way heat shimmered off stone. The clearing was quiet, but not peacefully so. Quiet like held breath.

Koen approached from the edge of the clearing, already moving as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Aldric and Zakai came with him. Zakai steady, eyes scanning; Aldric alert despite the humor he usually wore like armor.

Koen’s gaze went past them, straight toward the treeline. Up close, the forest was wrong in ways that were difficult to name at first glance.

It should have been lush land, heavy air, thick growth. And it was… but the color was muted, as if someone had washed the green from everything and left behind bruised shades instead. Leaves looked dusted with ash.

Vines curled too tightly around trunks, not climbing but constricting. Blossoms hung like dying lanterns, petals dulled and thick, as if they’d been grown for a purpose other than beauty.

The air coming from beneath the canopy was warmer than it should have been, heat rolling out in slow waves that carried the scent of rot and something sharper—spice, crushed bark, ancient soil. Magic pulsed there. Not in bursts. In a rhythm. Like a heart that didn’t belong to anything living.

Koen stopped at the edge of the clearing and simply stared. “This is your homeland,” Christian’s voice wasn’t here to say it, but the truth of it sat on Koen’s shoulders anyway—old weight, old reluctance.

Callen followed Koen’s gaze. “This is where the book is.” Koen nodded once without looking away. “Beyond this line.” Aldric glanced at the treeline and made a quiet sound. “That forest looks like it eats optimism for sport.”

Zakai’s mouth twitched faintly, then flattened again. “Stay focused.” Zaria stepped closer to the edge, feeling the heat press against her skin. It wasn’t just warmth; it was pressure, a heavy insistence that made her light recoil instinctively.

Callen moved with her, staying close. “This is far enough,” he said, but the words tasted like a lie even to him. Zaria turned to face him fully.

She could see it now, his restraint fraying at the edges, the way he was forcing himself not to tighten his grip, not to make a command out of fear. “Callen,” she said softly. “This is what we planned.”

His jaw flexed. “I don’t like it.” “I know.” “You’re still healing.” “And I’m still capable,” she answered, gentle but firm. She reached up, touching his cheek with gloved fingers. “You brought me here. You did what you said you would do.”

Callen swallowed hard, throat working like it cost him. His gaze flicked to the forest again, then back to her. “I want to stay.” Zaria’s heart twisted. “I want you to stay,” she admitted. “But you can’t. The children need you. And Christian needs you.”

Callen’s eyes burned, gold bright with the kind of helplessness he hated. “If something happens...” “It won’t,” Zaria said, and she let her voice soften into something that wasn’t reassurance but faith.

“Zakai’s with me. Aldric’s with me. And Koen…” Her gaze slid briefly to the elf. “Koen knows this place.” Callen’s lips pressed into a thin line. Koen stepped closer to the boundary, head tilted as if he was listening to something none of them could hear. He didn’t cross. Not yet.

Callen’s voice dropped, grim. “Don’t get yourself killed.” It wasn’t said to Zaria. Koen inclined his head once, as if acknowledging an order he didn’t technically have to take. He studied the treeline again, eyes narrowing. There was no bravado in him, no thrill. Only attention.

Callen’s gaze sharpened. “Can you find your way?” Aldric glanced between them, sensing the tension and wisely keeping his mouth shut. Koen’s answer came without hesitation. “Yes.” Callen frowned. “You haven’t been here since you were a boy.”

Koen’s red eyes flicked to him, expression flat. “The forest remembers,” he said simply. “And so do I.” Callen didn’t look convinced, but he looked… forced to accept that this was the best certainty they had.

Zaria stepped closer to Callen, her hand slipping into his. “I’ll come back to you,” she whispered, low enough that only he could hear. Callen’s fingers tightened around hers like he could anchor her with sheer will. Then he released her slowly, like letting go hurt.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead briefly to hers. A quiet, intimate gesture that said everything his pride wouldn’t allow him to say aloud in front of men. When he pulled back, he looked at Zakai. “You keep her alive.”

Zakai nodded once. “Always.” Callen’s gaze moved to Aldric. “You too.” Aldric’s grin was gone. “With my life,” he said, and for once it didn’t sound like charm. It sounded like oath. Then Callen’s eyes found Koen. The look he gave him wasn’t kind. But it also wasn’t a threat.

It was a command carved out of a father’s fear and a husband’s desperation. “If she doesn’t come back,” Callen said quietly, “you will not survive me.” Koen didn’t blink. He didn’t rise to the violence in it. He only nodded once, as if acknowledging a truth rather than being intimidated by it.

“I know,” Koen said. Not defiant. Not offended. Just… factual. Callen held the stare for a beat longer, then turned away before the emotion in his eyes could become visible. He lifted his hand, signaling the knights to prepare.

Zaria watched him walk back toward the clearing, shoulders set, posture rigid with restraint. She watched him shift again, golden light swallowing him in a blaze that made the air tremble. She watched the other dragons take form around him.

Callen crouched only once, looking back at her, one final look, gold eyes fierce and aching. Then the dragons launched. Wind tore across the plateau. Dust and leaves scattered. The sound of wings was thunder in the air, and within moments they were rising into mist, the clearing shrinking, the world swallowing her connection to him with cruel efficiency.

Zaria stood at the edge of the plateau until Callen’s golden shape was only a glint against the cloudline. Until it vanished. Only then did she let herself breathe. The forest waited.

Koen stepped to the boundary again and paused, studying the line where open air ended and canopy began. It looked like an ordinary treeline at a distance, but up close it felt like a threshold, like stepping over it meant agreeing to be changed.

Koen lifted one hand slightly—not casting, not commanding—just feeling. His expression tightened in concentration. “It’s awake,” he murmured. Aldric shifted his grip on his sword. “Lovely.”

Zakai moved closer to Zaria’s left side, body angled protectively without crowding her. “Stay in the middle,” he said quietly. Zaria nodded once. Koen took the first step across the line. The moment he did, the forest seemed to exhale.

Leaves shivered. Vines tightened around trunks. The air thickened, heavy with a subtle pressure that made Zaria’s skin tighten with instinctive caution. It wasn’t dramatic. It was worse than dramatic. It was patient.

Koen looked back at them, red eyes steady. “Don’t let it separate you,” he said. “If you lose sight of each other, call out. The forest likes silence.” Zaria drew a slow breath, tasting damp earth and something bitter at the back of her throat.

Instantly, the world changed. The canopy swallowed daylight, turning morning into perpetual dusk beneath the trees. The muted foliage looked even stranger up close. The ground was rich and black and seemed to drink sound, their footsteps muffled as if the soil didn’t want to announce them.

Heat pressed in from all sides, humid and heavy, clinging to skin. Sweat gathered at the base of Zaria’s neck beneath her hood. The air felt alive, but not in a comforting way.

Magic pulsed around them, slow and steady, like a heartbeat beneath the earth. Zaria’s light pushed back against it reflexively, flickering inside her chest like a lantern in thick fog.

Koen walked ahead with quiet certainty, gaze tracking patterns only he could see, bent branches, twisted vines, the subtle wrongness of the path. He looked… different here. Not softer. Not nostalgic. Just less like a stranger. As if the forest recognized him, and he recognized it.

Behind them, the plateau and open sky were already fading from view, swallowed by thickening growth. Callen was gone. The castle was impossibly far away. And the corrupted ancient forest closed around them like a mouth, warm and dark and waiting, as if it had been hungry for their footsteps all along