SIXTY-FIVE

X ai maintained an impassive expression despite the discomfort. “Every restraint can be broken.”

“But not quickly enough to prevent what comes next.” Severin circled him with measured steps, inspecting the chains with obvious satisfaction. “You should be honored. Few dragons have witnessed this ritual—fewer still have participated.

“For centuries, my family has watched from the sidelines while families like yours and Parker’s controlled the town’s magical heart,” he continued, gesturing toward the ceiling where blood moonlight intensified. “Tonight that changes. Tonight, balance restores itself.

“The original pact was never meant to be permanent,” he continued, circling back to stand before Xai. “My ancestor Silas Gravemont was promised equal guardianship once the town secured itself. The others betrayed him, using their combined power to lock him out of the triumvirate.”

Xai recognized the half-truth in these words. Historical accounts Kalyna found showed debate among the founding families, not the clear conspiracy Severin claimed. Records from the period described Silas Gravemont as volatile and power-hungry—talented but untrustworthy with the immense responsibility of guardianship.

“Even if your interpretation of history is correct,” Xai challenged, “you lack the strength to control what you’ll unleash.”

“That’s what dragon blood is for,” Severin replied, a predatory smile revealing elongated canines. “Your fire will fuel the transition.”

The surviving twin began arranging crystals around the chamber, placing them at precise intervals along the carved floor symbols. Each placement activated dormant magic within the stone, causing sections of the ritual circle to glow with increasing intensity.

Blood moonlight intensified, streaming through the skylight to illuminate three distinct circles on the floor—one beneath Luciana, one where Xai knelt, and a third still empty. The pattern became clear—a triangle connecting three points of power with the central altar serving as a focus for the transformation Severin sought.

“Three bloodlines required,” Severin explained. “Now we wait for your little mate. I’m sure she’ll be along any second.”

The mention of Zina triggered another surge of protectiveness in Xai. Despite the chains, his temperature spiked again, causing the metal to groan as it expanded against sudden heat. The mithril absorbed the energy, growing colder and tighter in response, but the momentary flare revealed that his power had not been completely neutralized.

“Fascinating,” Severin observed. “Your control slips every time I mention her. Such a weakness for a creature of your age and power.” He stepped closer, examining Xai with clinical interest. “What would you give to keep her safe, I wonder? Your power? Your position on the council?”

Xai glared, refusing to answer the taunt. The offer confused him momentarily until understanding dawned—Severin genuinely believed his interest in Zina was political rather than personal. The lion shifter calculated every relationship as a potential transaction or leverage point. He couldn’t conceive of attachment without advantage.

“Nothing to say?” Severin shrugged. “No matter. After tonight, she’ll understand her place in the new order. Perhaps I’ll keep the spa open as a quaint reminder of how things used to be. A tourist attraction with its former owner as a living exhibit.”

The ritual preparations continued around him. The twin completed the crystal arrangement while the orc prepared the central altar with ritual implements—an obsidian knife, a silver bowl, various herbs, and powders arranged in specific patterns.

Severin began chanting in an ancient language—older than Latin, older perhaps than written history itself. The words resonated against the chamber walls, creating harmonic overtones that seemed to bend reality slightly. The air thickened further, pressure building against eardrums and skin.

His eyes snapped wide as a hidden passage behind Severin slid open in the chamber’s far wall. Through the opening stepped Zina.