Page 8 of Hex and the Dragon (Mistwhispher Falls Romances #4)

"And your control, your careful application of power, your willingness to protect others even when it costs you personally—that's not the behavior of someone who only knows destruction," Ivy replied. "We're both more than our worst moments."

They stood close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes, could feel the warmth radiating from his skin like standing near a well-banked fire.

The air between them crackled with more than magical energy, and Ivy found herself drawn to the vulnerability he'd shared, the trust implicit in his confession.

"Ivy," Dorian said softly, his free hand rising to cup her cheek with gentle reverence.

"Yes?" she whispered, her pulse quickening as he leaned closer.

"I think I'm falling for you," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "And I have no idea if that's real or just another way the Chronicle is manipulating us."

"Does it matter?" Ivy asked, her eyes drifting to his lips. "If the feeling is real, if the connection is genuine..."

"It matters because I don't want to hurt you," Dorian said, though he made no move to step away. "I don't want to be another thing in your life that brings pain instead of joy."

"You won't be," Ivy said with quiet certainty. "You couldn't be."

The space between them disappeared by degrees, drawn together by attraction and understanding and the kind of emotional intimacy that came from shared vulnerability. Ivy's eyes fluttered closed as Dorian's lips were almost close enough to touch hers, her heart racing with anticipation.

"Well, this is either the worst possible timing or the best possible distraction."

Nico Beaumont's amused voice cut through the moment like a blade, causing both Ivy and Dorian to spring apart with guilty expressions.

The fae stood at the entrance to the small park where they'd been walking, his usually immaculate appearance showing signs of recent travel and his pale eyes sharp with urgency.

"Nico," Ivy said, her voice slightly breathless. "We were just?—"

"Having a moment that the Chronicle undoubtedly found fascinating," Nico interrupted with knowing humor. "But I'm afraid personal revelations will have to wait. I've received some disturbing news from my contacts in other supernatural communities."

"What kind of news?" Dorian asked, his protective instincts immediately overriding any embarrassment about their interrupted moment.

"The kind that suggests Mistwhisper Falls isn't the Chronicle's first target," Nico said grimly.

"Or its last. I've got reports from seven different communities over the past six months—all experiencing the same pattern of residents choosing perfect dreams over reality, all centered around ancient books that appeared in their local libraries. "

Ivy felt ice settle in her stomach. "Seven communities?"

"Seven that I know of," Nico corrected. "There could be more.

The pattern is always the same—an ancient text appears, usually brought by a traveling scholar or donated anonymously.

Within weeks, residents start experiencing unusually vivid dreams. Within months, entire populations have chosen the dream world over waking reality. "

"What happens to them?" Dorian asked, though his expression suggested he already suspected the answer.

"They disappear," Nico said simply. "Not physically—their bodies remain, sleeping peacefully in their beds. But mentally, spiritually, they're gone. Living in whatever perfect world the Chronicle has crafted for them while their physical forms waste away from neglect."

"How long does the process take?" Ivy asked with clinical detachment, though inside she was calculating how much time Mistwhisper Falls had left.

"Six weeks from initial contact to complete population conversion," Nico said. "We're currently in week two."

The Chronicle in Ivy's bag pulsed with satisfaction, as if pleased that its greater plan was finally being revealed.

She realized with growing horror that their community wasn't unique, wasn't special—they were just the latest in a series of experiments the fragment had been conducting across multiple realities.

"It's been preparing," she said with dawning understanding. "Learning from each community it destroys, refining its approach, becoming more effective with each iteration."

"Which means whatever we're facing here in Mistwhisper Falls is the culmination of months of practice," Dorian said grimly. "The Chronicle's most sophisticated attempt yet."

"And we're its test subjects," Ivy added, feeling the fragment's cold satisfaction pulse through their bond. "The components it needs to perfect its technique before moving on to larger targets."

Nico nodded gravely. "The communities it's already consumed were just practice. Mistwhisper Falls is where it intends to achieve something much more ambitious."

As if responding to their growing understanding, the Chronicle's whispers became more insistent, offering glimpses of a reality where every supernatural community existed in perfect harmony, where all conflict and suffering had been eliminated through superior design.

The fragment wasn't just targeting their town—it was preparing to remake supernatural society itself, one community at a time, until nothing remained but beautiful, empty perfection.

And Ivy and Dorian were the keys it needed to unlock that terrible future.