Hunger was starting to make the shiny gold coins look edible.
Elara sat curled in the center of the bone nest, her knees pulled to her chest. It had been hours since the monster, the Void King, had left, likely to find another inappropriate gift.
The cavern was silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of water somewhere deep in the gloom.
Then, the silence broke.
"I'm telling you, I saw the tracks."
The voice was human. Rough. Male.
Elara stiffened. Hope flared in her chest for a fleeting second, a rescue party?, before reality crushed it. No one from Oakhaven would come for her. Not unless there was profit involved.
"If the Beast took her, she's dead, Jory," a second voice grunted.
"Dead or alive, she's wearing the Ashbourne locket. That gold alone is worth a week's wages. Besides... if the Beast isn't home, we can grab a few of these scales off the floor."
Scavengers.
Three men stepped into the dim light of the cavern entrance. They wore leather armor patched with rust and carried spears that looked like they had seen better days. Elara recognized the leader, Jory. He was a mercenary who often drank with her step-brother.
Jory's eyes scanned the room, widening as they landed on the mounds of gold.
"Jackpot," he breathed. Then, his gaze shifted to the nest. He spotted Elara.
A nasty grin split his face. "Well, look at that. The sacrifice is still fresh."
Elara scrambled back, pressing herself against the giant ribs of the dragon skeleton. "Go away," she warned, her voice raspy. "He... he will come back."
"Let him come," Jory scoffed, stepping into the nest. He waded through the coins, kicking aside a goblet. "We'll be long gone. And you're coming with us, girl. We can sell you to the slavers in the South. Step-mommy Lydia doesn't need to know."
He lunged, grabbing Elara by the wrist.
Elara screamed. She clawed at his face, her nails digging into his cheek.
"You little..!" Jory raised his hand to strike her.
The cavern temperature dropped.
It didn't just get cold; the air instantly froze. The dripping water turned to ice mid-air, shattering against the stone floor with the sound of breaking glass.
The shadows in the corners of the room didn't just darken. They boiled.
"Vermin."
The word wasn't spoken. It was a shockwave.
Jory froze, his hand still raised. The other two scavengers backed away, their faces pale.
From the ceiling, darkness descended. The Void King dropped like a stone, landing between the men and the nest. The impact shook the mountain, sending coins cascading like water.
He didn't look like a confused puppy anymore.
His scales were bristling, glowing with violet energy. His mouth was open, revealing rows of serrated teeth that dripped with black ichor. He didn't roar. He hissed—a sound like steam escaping a high-pressure vent.
"Run!" one of the men screamed.
They didn't make it.
The Void King swiped his tail. It moved faster than the eye could follow. It struck the two men by the entrance, not cutting them, but smashing them. They were thrown against the cavern wall with a wet crunch, sliding down as broken heaps.
Jory, still holding Elara's wrist, trembled. He dropped her hand as if it burned him. He raised his rusty sword. "Back! Stay b—"
The Void King didn't bother with claws. He simply opened his mouth.
A beam of concentrated violet light, no thicker than a finger, shot from his throat. It hit Jory in the chest.
There was no scream. There was no blood. Jory simply dissolved. One second he was there; the next, there was only a pile of empty clothes and drifting ash.
Silence returned to the cavern.
The Void King stood amidst the empty clothes, his chest heaving. A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his throat, a continuous engine of rage. He whipped his head around, his blue eyes wild and unfocused, searching for more threats.
He turned to Elara.
He was terrifying. He was a monster soaked in the magic of death. The killing intent was still rolling off him in waves.
But Elara saw something else.
His tail was thrashing, knocking over piles of gold. He was hyperventilating. He was looking at her wrist where Jory had grabbed her, his eyes wide with panic.
He wasn't angry at her. He was frantic because he had failed to protect the nest.
Elara didn't cower this time. Her heart was pounding, but instinct took over. If she didn't calm him, he might bring the whole mountain down in his distress.
Slowly, she rose from the furs.
"Kael," she whispered. (She didn't know why that name came to her mind, but it felt right. A name for a King).
The monster flinched at the sound. He looked at her, his growl hitching.
Elara took a step forward. The floor was cold, but she ignored it. She walked right up to the snout of the beast that had just vaporized a man.
She reached out. Her pale, trembling hand hovered for a second, then pressed against the hard, warm scales of his nose.
"I'm safe," she said softly. "You got them."
The contact was electric. The moment her skin touched his scales, the violet glow in his eyes dimmed. The growling stopped abruptly, replaced by a sharp intake of breath.
He froze, cross-eyed, staring at her hand on his nose.
He had lived for a thousand years in the Void. He had known only cold, hunger, and battle. No one had ever touched him without trying to kill him.
Slowly, hesitatingly, he leaned into her palm. He closed his eyes, a long puff of hot air escaping his nostrils, warming her freezing body.
"Safe," he echoed in her mind. The voice was no longer grinding stones; it was a deep, protective purr.
He curled his massive body around the nest, encircling her in a wall of scales and shadow. He wasn't going hunting again. Not tonight.
Tonight, the Dragon guarded his treasure.