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RHAEGAR

N ora does not sleep.

She lies still, curled beneath the thin blanket near the fire, but I hear her breathing , the subtle shift of her body, the restless energy vibrating beneath her skin.

She thinks I do not notice.

But I always notice. Especially now.

She is changing.

I felt it as the earth bent to her will , in the way her power burned through the ruins like a living thing. And now, as she lays there pretending to sleep, I can feel something else rising in her.

Something she does not yet understand.

I remain still, my wings folded tight against my back, my claws resting against the dirt. The Wastes are silent, but silence here is a lie.

This land is never truly still. And I am not the only one watching her.

Beyond the fire’s glow, the shadows shift.

A presence lingers in the dark, just beyond my vision. Not beasts. Not elves.

Something else. It does not breathe.

Something that should not be here.

I rise to my feet slowly, my muscles coiled and ready , my senses stretching into the night. The bond between me and Nora pulses , and I feel her magic stirring, reacting to whatever is out there.

She feels them too.

She just doesn’t know what they are yet.

I step away from the fire, moving toward the outer ridge of the ruins. The wind changes. The air is thick with sulfur and death , the scent of the Wastes pressing against me like a warning.

Suddenly, a whisper.

A voice, low and hollow , curling at my mind.

"Rhaegar…"

I still.

My claws dig into my palms, rage surging hot through my veins.

Because I know that voice. It does not belong to the living.

"You should not have brought her here."

A flicker of movement in the dark. A figure wrapped in rusted armor , its face hidden beneath the shadow of a broken helm.

Wraithborn.

Damn them all.

A growl builds low in my throat, but I do not move, do not let them see the anger curling through me like flame.

They are testing me. They know better than to strike first.

I step forward, letting my presence expand, letting the weight of my magic move in the air like a warning.

"You are bold to come so close to me," I say, voice low, dangerous.

The figure shifts, tilting its head. Beneath the helm, its eyes are empty. Hollow sockets, dark and endless, like the void itself has swallowed them whole.

"We have no quarrel with you." The voice scrapes against my skull, wrong and ancient.

I snarl. "Lies."

They do not move.

They do not breathe.

They only watch.

"She does not belong to you, Rhaegar."

My wings snap open , fury flashing hot in my chest.

Mine.

The possessive growl ripples through me before I can stop it, and I hate it. Hate the way they speak of her as if she is already theirs.

As if I have no say.

"The magic she carries… it calls to us."

I already know that.

I knew it the moment I saw the silver light in her eyes, the way the Wastes responded to her presence. She does not realize it yet, but her magic is shifting. Changing.

Becoming something the Wraithborn have been waiting for.

"She will hear us soon," the creature whispers.

I step closer, the earth cracking beneath my feet. "If you come near her again, I will rip your bones from your cursed flesh."

A pause.

Then, there's laughter.

A terrible, broken sound.

"You cannot stop what has already begun."

A gust of wind howls through the Wastes, and when it passes, the Wraithborn are gone.

The night swallows them whole, leaving behind only the scent of something long buried and never forgotten.

I stand in the silence, my fists clenched, my breath slow and steady.

I do not turn back to the fire immediately. I feel something close to fear.

Not for myself.

For her.

Nora’s eyes snap open the moment I return. She does not speak, but I can see it.

She felt them.

She doesn’t understand it yet, but she knows something is wrong.

"Go back to sleep," I tell her, keeping my voice even.

She hesitates. "Did you feel it?"

I do not answer because I cannot lie to her.

And if she hears the truth now, she will not be able to run from it. So I turn away, folding my wings against my back, watching the fire as it flickers lower and lower.

"Sleep, Nora," I murmur.

She will need her strength.

Soon, she will hear them.

And once she does, there will be no turning back.