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If that’s true, then this throneisWisp. The shifting lava reflects the heartbeat of this isle.

I blink.

My gaze is drawn to the seat of the throne…Strange,I swear that wasn’t there before.

A rose. It lies upon the seat.

It’s vibrant, contrasting with the decaying throne. The stem is vivid green and studded with large, sharp thorns. The petals are a bright red, shifting with bright golden hues.

I’m reminded of fireflies… I find my fingers reaching for it.

It’s beautiful, and I am compelled.

I resist, and my hands twitch, but it’s not enough. I’m drawn by something more than beauty, a…need.A compulsion. The fireflies dance around the throne, and the calling deepens, hot in my blood, accelerating my heart.

My fingertips brush the petals of the tantalizing rose.

Too late, someone touches my arm. A voice rumbles behind me. “What are you doing?”

It’s him.

I startle and try to pull away, but I can’t release the rose. I’m pulled closer instead—I clutch the stem, two-handed. My fists tighten, and the thorns pierce my palms with sharp pain. Wet, hot blood pools between my hands.

He sniffs, taking in the metallic tang. With his face so scrunched, he looks angry, and I’m reminded of how he appeared on the beach.Ferocious. The kindness he has shown me fades, consumed by this darker creature lurking within.

“Drakon?” I ask.

He growls but holds his body rigid. Muscles tense with rage, he does not act. And then something shifts, the moment passing, and he overcomes the beast within.

He softens, his lips parting. “It is done,” he whispers.

Gently, he wraps his hands around mine. He’s careful not to shift my palms. Even so, I whimper as the thorns shift deeper into my skin. I can’t let go; I only grip it tighter.

My blood leaks from my cupped hands, streaming down the rose’s stem. The color is bolder than it should be, my blood taking on the same golden-red hue as the rose’s bloom.

I should be scared. A dragon stands over me, and I’m clutching some sort of enchanted flower, but I don’t feel trapped.

Fireflies surround us. I’m safe.

—drip—

The first drop of my blood falls to the floor. It vanishes as it strikes, turning to smoke. Eucalyptus blooms on the air, a smell I recognize asmine,even if I’ve never smelled this way before.

—drip, drip—

It happens again. I’m not imagining this. My blood turns to smoke as my scent rises.

I sniff the air, discovering countless new sensations. The scents I can detect broaden and deepen. Drakon smells like a hearth—balsam and char. My vision shifts next, and the darkness seems brighter than before. And finally, my palms no longer hurt where I’m pierced by thorns, like my skin is toughening.

Thedrip, drip, dripof my blood echoes through the hall.

I meet Drakon’s gaze. “What have I done?” I ask, voice trembling.

His fingers caress mine, still holding me, holding the rose. He takes a moment, searching for words, and by the time he speaks, I can’t understand.

I’m overwhelmed.

My skin itches—starting with my scaled birthmark and wandering up my neck, then down my back. Muscles pulse and relax. Something cracks, sounding like bone. I’m vibrating, down to the marrow, shifts pulsating throughout my being.