Page 37

H argen

The cell presses in on me without Vanya here. Concrete walls. The ghost of her scent. Fear thick enough to choke on.

Twenty-four hours.

That’s what we had. One night mapping escape routes, pretending we could actually walk out of here alive.

The door bursts open yet again.

“Time for your ceremony, witch.” The guard spits the word like it tastes rotten.

Three of them this time, carrying chains that hum with magic. I’m on my feet before the first one crosses the threshold.

“Where the fuck is she?” I lunge for the nearest guard. “What did you do with—?”

The restraints slam around my wrists. Pain shoots up both arms as the magic bites deep, severing every connection to power I’ve relied on for decades. My knees buckle.

“Where is Vanya?” I strain against bonds that feel like liquid fire eating through my bones.

“Shut up.” The lead guard yanks the chains tight. Blood stops flowing to my hands. “You’ll find out.”

She’ll fight them.

The thought brings cold comfort as they drag me from the cell.

She’ll never surrender.

I fight every step as they drag me along the corridor. I know that it’s pointless, but I’ll be damned if I make things any easier for them.

Lights flicker past me as we move. This isn’t the containment section where I once worked. Ancient dragon symbols throw twisted shadows on the walls. Ceremonial territory. The kind reserved for executions.

Syndicate members emerge from doorways as we pass. They press against walls to watch, faces sharp with curiosity. I scan each one, looking for recognition, for any clue where they’re holding her.

Count the guards. Time the intervals. Map the blind spots.

I can’t let go of the hope of getting out of here. I won’t. But the suppression magic turns my thoughts sluggish. Planning becomes impossible.

“I trust you got some rest, Mr. Cole.” Elder Vex steps from a side passage with his elite guards. His smile is pure evil.

“Where is she?” I snarl.

“Patience.” He eyes me like I’m a prime cut of meat. “Soon, everything will become clear.”

“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you!” I strain toward him.

“Kill me?” Vex laughs. The sound bounces off the stone walls. “You still don’t understand what you’re dealing with. What she is.”

The chains spark as I test them. “Explain.”

“You’ve caused too many problems.” He stops close enough that I can smell his cologne. “The defection with the Rossewyn girl was tolerable. Even your recent collaboration with Viktor could be overlooked.”

The procession starts again. Guards yank me forward while Vex walks beside me like we’re old friends.

“But tainting our gene pool with your filthy blood? With an Arrowvane heir, no less?” His voice drops. “That crosses every line. Your disgusting offspring will die with you.”

Red floods my vision. I throw myself at him, chains screaming, magic tearing at my flesh. I don’t care that it’s hopeless. I need to feel my hands around his scrawny throat.

A rifle butt cracks against my skull. Stars explode. Blood fills my mouth.

“Ember is safe,” I snarl through split lips. “Whatever game you’re playing, she’s beyond your reach.”

“Is she?” His smile widens. “We’ll see.”

We’ll see.

The words follow me as consciousness wavers. I feel myself dragged forward, my feet trailing along the floor.

The ceremonial chamber opens up before us. Stone pillars stretch up into the shadows of a vast, unseen ceiling. Dragon history covers every surface—battles, conquests, the rise and fall of bloodlines that thought themselves immortal.

They chain me to pillars on a central platform. Arms spread. Legs locked. Completely exposed. On the floor and walls around me, scorch marks blacken the stone.

How many others died here?

The restraint points are carved into the pillars themselves. The chains hum with power designed to drain every trace of magic from whoever they hold.

Syndicate members fill tiered seating in perfect silence. No jeering crowd. This is ceremony. Ritual. The solemn execution of justice according to their twisted code.

I pull against the restraints, testing them—hopeless but necessary. I search for Vanya through our bond—nothing but empty space where connection should be. I scan the crowd for mercy.

I find none.

Last night.

I think of Vanya curled against me, her fingers curled on my chest while we spoke in the darkness.

“I love you,” she’d whispered. “Whatever happens, remember that.”

I thought it was sentiment. Now it feels like goodbye.

The crowd draws breath as one. The side entrance opens to rhythmic drumbeats that make the air vibrate.

Vanya enters.

Oh, thank God!

The sight of her unharmed sends relief surging through my chest.

They’ve changed her clothes. Scaled armor gleams like molten silver. A ritual headdress marks her Arrowvane nobility. She moves with her head high, eyes sweeping the assembly without acknowledging me. Something’s shifted. Changed in her. She’s cold as ice.

“Vanya?”

What happened?

She begins the ritual procession around the circle. Still doesn’t look at me. When her gaze finally finds mine—when those icy eyes lock onto me—they’re empty. No recognition. No emotion.

The woman I held in my arms is gone.

“What did they do to you?” There’s a pleading edge to my voice. Not because of fear, but because it tears me apart to think they’ve broken her spirit somehow.

Vex steps onto the raised platform, arms spread wide. He’s dressed in a gray tunic with silver insignia embroidered along the borders. Ornate. Symbolic.

“Honored members of the Syndicate.” His voice carries to every corner. “Today, we witness justice for the most sacred laws of our kind.”

The crowd stays silent. Tension hums through the air.

“Before you stands Hargen Cole—witch, manipulator, corruptor of noble bloodlines.” Vex’s words ring with theatrical righteousness. “Twenty-one years ago, he seduced the heir to the ancient Arrowvane line. The result threatens our very foundation.”

He turns to Vanya, who remains as still and cold as if she’s carved from a glacier.

“Lady Arrowvane has chosen to demonstrate her renewed loyalty.” A pause for effect. “She will purify her lineage by eliminating the source of contamination.”

What the fuck?

I stare from one to the other in horror before my eyes lock onto her face. There’s no expression there.

Vanya wouldn’t—she can’t—

But this isn’t Vanya. This is the Shadowhand. The one who spent years carrying out the Ivory League’s insane agenda. She said she had no choice. She did it to save Ember.

But was that true? How do you work in a position like that for so long without it coloring you? How do you do those things if there isn’t at least a part of you that’s corrupted?

She steps forward. Each step measured.

Ancient dragon words roll from her lips. Ritual phrases. Sacred mandate. I don’t understand them but I sense the meaning.

I’m fucked.

I twist against the chains on my wrists. Pointless. So damned pointless.

Vanya takes a position directly opposite me, and for one moment, her expression shifts. Something flickers in her eyes. Pain? A warning?

Then the transformation begins. The air around her distorts as ancient magic pulses outward in visible waves. Her eyes change first—ice-blue warming to molten gold, pupils narrowing to reptilian slits that fix on me with unmistakable intelligence.

Her skin changes to scales in a seamless cascade from head to toe, each one a perfect disc of platinum that catches torchlight and throws it back brighter.

Bones shift and realign with deep, resonant sounds that vibrate through the chamber. Her frame expands as her neck elongates, graceful and serpentine. Fingers extend into gleaming talons that scrape against stone when she flexes them.

Her shoulders bulge, then split as wings emerge. They unfold in one smooth motion, membrane stretching between elongated digits. Fully extended, they span half the platform, casting the execution ground into shadow.

Her face transforms last. Cheekbones sharpen as her jaw extends forward, teeth multiplying into precise rows of gleaming white daggers. A crown of silver spines rises along her skull and spine, catching light from every angle.

Dragon-Vanya towers over the assembly, ten times her human height. Her tail sweeps once across the stone floor, its tip leaving a scored mark in ancient rock. With each breath, smoke tints the air around her snout.

The Syndicate members draw back instinctively. Even Vex pauses, momentarily awed by the creature before him. This is no mere execution display. This is dragon-kind in its purest form—terrible and beautiful.

Her long neck curves as she regards me with those golden eyes. In their depths, beneath the ancient power, I still see her—the woman who whispered to me in darkness just hours ago.

And she’s magnificent. Even facing death, I can’t help but marvel at her.

“Proceed with the execution,” Vex commands.

She draws to her full height. Wings spread wide enough to block the ceiling. The intake of breath before dragonfire forms sounds like a furnace settling.

“Vanya, this isn’t you.” I strain against chains, voice cracking. “Fight it!”

Her dragon eyes fix on mine—ancient, terrible, unreadable. In that gaze, I see centuries of Arrowvane pride. The weight of bloodline expectations. The crushing pressure of a life lived under scrutiny.

Her chest expands.

Please, Vanya.

“I love you,” I whisper. “Whatever they’ve done, whatever they’re making you do—I love you.”

I won’t close my eyes. If this is how it ends—if the woman I love kills me—I’ll face it. Meet her gaze until the end.

Fire erupts from her jaws.

Not hearth flame or battle heat. This is dragonfire in its purest form—white-hot destruction that turns air into a weapon. It engulfs me completely, the roar of it obliterating all other sound.

Pain beyond description tears through every nerve. My scream echoes off stone as flesh burns and blood boils. The world dissolves into agony and blinding light. Consciousness flickers.

Why? Why would she do this?