When Aric awoke, he wished he hadn't. His chest burned, his limbs heavy as if he carried chains of fire. He sat up in a ruined barn, disoriented.
Serenya was there, seated with poise against a beam. Even dressed in rags from her captivity, she radiated a presence too commanding for a mere mortal woman.
"What… did you do to me?" he rasped.
She tilted her head, golden eyes glowing faintly. "I saved you."
Aric barked a laugh that turned into a cough. "Saved me? It feels like you carved a brand into my soul."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "That is the Bond of Fire. A link between dragon and chosen. It grants you strength—though if you defy me, it will burn you alive."
Aric clenched his fists. He hated chains, hated being used. And yet… he could feel it. Something throbbed inside him, a reservoir of power not his own. It terrified him almost as much as it tempted him.
"I didn't ask for this," he growled.
"No one asks," Serenya replied, her tone soft but cruelly certain. "Fate chooses."
Aric forced himself to his feet. His instincts screamed at him to cut her down. But when he grasped his sword, his chest ignited in pain, dropping him to his knees.
Serenya walked closer, kneeling before him. Her hand brushed his cheek—soft, deceptively tender. "You will learn, mercenary. Hate me if you must. But survive, and you may yet find freedom."
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky. Aric realized with dread: the storm was not natural.
Something vast stirred in the distance.