Seraphina's POV
We were falling.
Three stories down toward certain death, glass raining around us like deadly snow, and all I could do was scream.
Then Draeven's body cracked.
Bones broke and reformed with sounds like snapping tree branches. His skin rippled and scales spread across it—silver scales that caught the firelight and glowed. His arms stretched and twisted, fingers fusing into massive claws.
Wings erupted from his back.
He'd become a dragon.
His claws closed around me—careful not to pierce, but firm enough that I couldn't escape. We shot upward instead of down, and suddenly we were flying.
Actually flying.
The burning manor fell away beneath us. I could see the whole estate—every wing consumed by flames, bodies scattered across the grounds, other dragons circling the destruction like huge terrible birds.
"No," I sobbed. "No, this can't be real—"
Draeven's dragon form was massive. His wings blocked out the stars. His scales were like mirrors, reflecting the fire below. And his eyes—those golden eyes—still held the same cold hatred they'd had when he was human-shaped.
We climbed higher. The air grew colder. My nightgown whipped around me in the wind, and the chains on my wrists burned and burned.
Below, Ashencroft Manor collapsed in on itself. The place I'd lived my entire life—the place that had never wanted me—became nothing but ash and ruin.
And everyone I'd ever known was dead inside it.
"Why?" I screamed into the wind. "If you're going to kill me, just do it! Why make me watch?"
Draeven didn't answer. Dragons couldn't talk, I realized. Not in this form.
We flew for what felt like hours. Away from the manor. Away from everything I'd ever known. The landscape below changed from farmland to forest to rocky hills. The air grew thin and hard to breathe.
Finally, mountains appeared on the horizon—huge black peaks that looked like teeth biting at the sky.
Draeven angled toward them.
As we got closer, I saw lights. A fortress built into the mountainside, carved from black stone that seemed to drink in moonlight. Towers rose from the rock itself. Windows glowed orange and red—not from fire, but from something else. Something alive.
Dragon fire.
This was a dragon stronghold.
And Draeven was taking me inside it.
We landed on a huge platform outside the main entrance. The impact rattled my teeth. Draeven's claws released me and I collapsed onto cold stone, my legs too weak to stand.
His body cracked again—bones shifting, scales receding. In moments, he was human-shaped once more. Still terrifying. Still covered in blood and ash. Still looking at me like I was something he'd scraped off his shoe.
"Get up," he said.
I tried. My legs wouldn't work.
He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. The chains on my wrists clinked together, still burning hot against my skin.
"Where—" My voice came out broken. "Where are we?"
"The Obsidian Fortress." He dragged me toward the entrance. "My home. Your prison."
Two dragons in human form stood guard at the massive doors. They stared at me with hatred that made my skin crawl.
"My lord," one said, bowing to Draeven. "Is that—?"
"An Ashencroft," Draeven confirmed. "The last one."
The guards looked at me with such rage I thought they might kill me right there.
"Should we prepare the execution chamber?" the second guard asked eagerly.
"No." Draeven's grip on my arm tightened. "Take her to the south tower. Top room. Lock her in."
"But my lord, the blood oath—"
"I know what I swore," Draeven snapped. "And I'll fulfill it when I'm ready. Until then, she's under my protection. Anyone who touches her answers to me."
The guards bowed quickly. "Yes, my lord."
Protection? The word made no sense. This dragon had just murdered my entire family. He'd burned my home to the ground. He'd chained me and stolen me away to a mountain fortress.
How was any of that protection?
The guards led me inside. The fortress was dark and cold, lit by flames that burned in metal baskets along the walls. The flames were different colors—blue, green, silver—and gave off no smoke.
Dragon fire. It had to be.
We climbed stairs. So many stairs my legs screamed in pain. Finally, we reached a door at the top of a tower.
One guard unlocked it and shoved me inside.
I stumbled into a room and—stopped.
It wasn't a dungeon.
There was a bed. A real bed with blankets and pillows. Shelves lined with books. A window showing mountains and sky. Even a small table with a chair.
"What is this?" I whispered.
"Your prison," the guard said. "Lord Draeven's orders. You're to be kept comfortable."
Comfortable? Nothing about this was comfortable.
The guard left, locking the door behind him. I heard his footsteps fade down the stairs.
I was alone.
I ran to the window, thinking maybe I could climb down. But we were so high up that clouds passed below. Even if I could somehow get past the chains and the locked door, jumping would mean certain death.
I was trapped.
I sank onto the bed and pulled my knees to my chest. The chains on my wrists still burned, but the pain had become background noise compared to everything else.
My family was dead. My home was destroyed. I'd been kidnapped by a dragon who blamed me for crimes I didn't even know about.
And worst of all—I had no idea what he planned to do with me.
"Three hundred years ago, your family slaughtered mine."
That's what Draeven had said. But that was impossible. Three hundred years? I wasn't even alive then. How could I be responsible for something that happened centuries before I was born?
The door opened.
I jumped to my feet, ready to fight or run or—
A child walked in. At least, he looked like a child. Maybe twelve years old, with dark hair and nervous eyes. But scales dotted his cheeks and his fingernails looked more like claws.
A young dragon.
He carried a tray with food and water.
"I'm Zephyr," he said quietly, setting the tray on the table. His hands shook. "Master Draeven says you need to eat."
I stared at him. "You're afraid of me."
"You're an Ashencroft." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Your family killed dragons. Lots of them. Even... even younglings like me."
My stomach turned. "I didn't kill anyone."
"I know." He finally looked at me, and his eyes were filled with confusion. "But you're still one of them. Master Draeven says you have to stay here until... until he decides what to do with you."
"What's he going to do?"
Zephyr's face went pale. "I don't know. But the Dragon Council is meeting tomorrow. They're going to decide your fate."
"The Dragon Council?"
"The five eldest dragons." Zephyr backed toward the door. "They're the ones who judge crimes. And your family committed the worst crimes in dragon history."
He left before I could ask more questions.
I sat at the table and stared at the food. Bread. Cheese. Fruit. Water. Simple but more than I usually got at the manor.
Why would Draeven give me a comfortable room? Why would he feed me?
"Death would be too kind," he'd said.
Understanding crashed over me like ice water.
He didn't want to kill me quickly. He wanted me to suffer. To understand what my family had done. To feel the weight of their crimes before he ended my life.
This comfortable prison wasn't mercy.
It was torture of a different kind.
I pushed the food away, unable to eat.
Tomorrow the Dragon Council would meet. Tomorrow they'd decide how I should die for crimes committed by people I'd never met.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, too terrified to sleep.
Outside my window, dragons flew through the night sky. Their roars echoed off the mountains.
And somewhere in this fortress, Draeven Nightscale was planning my execution.
I closed my eyes and whispered into the darkness: "Kaelen, you were right. I should have run when I had the chance."
But it was too late now.
Too late for everything.