I could still feel it. Coiling. Pressing. Watching.
Merlin turned to me. His eyes were too bright, a little wild. “How do you feel?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. But the sound came out hoarse and cracked.
“Like I swallowed a sun. And it wants to burn me up from the inside out."
Something flickered in Merlin's gaze—fear, pride, love, I couldn’t say. He stepped closer, fingers hovering near the fresh mark on my chest but not quite touching.
“It took,” Blodeuwyn murmured. “The dragon is caged. The mark is sealed.”
“For now,” I said.
“For as long as the bindings hold,” she corrected.
“And how long is that?” I demanded.
She looked at me the way one might look at an overeager hound. “That depends on you. On your strength. On your will. And on how carefully you both guard what has been done here today.”
Her gaze slid to Merlin then, sharp as a knife.
“Which brings us to the second matter.”
The dragon stirred at the edge of my consciousness, interested. I pushed it down, focusing on the witch’s words.
“You must now take an oath,” she said to Merlin.
Merlin’s jaw tightened. “An oath?”
Her eyes met mine. “Words have power. Names have weight. Speak too freely of what you, the king, now carry, and you will feed it, just as magic feeds it. Speak of the devil, and he comes calling. Speak of the dragon, and it will answer.”
Merlin went very still. “You mean—”
“I mean,” she said, “that silence will be one of the chains that keeps it sleeping. And breaking that silence will be one of the keys that wakes it.” She turned back to him fully. “The oath of silence will not only guard the king's secret. It will help hold the beast.” She paused.
"You make it sound as though I am the only one who must take this oath?"
Blodeuwyn nodded. "I am the mother who birthed the dragon from the earth—who first gave it to Uther and then rebirthed it in Arthur. Arthur is the vessel to which the dragon is bound. You have no true tie to the dragon. You act merely as a witness—a witness who carries the ability to free the dragon simply by repeating what you have witnessed here today. The blood oath would seal your tongue, disabling you from ever speaking of the dragon or its rebirth."
This was the moment Merlin could refuse. The moment he could say,No. I will not bind myself for your father’s sins, for your recklessness, for this mad gamble.The moment he could walk away.
He did not.
Instead, he looked at Lance and Corvin, both still asleep. He looked back at Blodeuwyn. "And them?"
Blodeuwyn shook her head. "They matter not. For it was not their magic that helped to tie the dragon to its vessel.Youare the witness. And you are the only one."
Merlin inhaled deeply and then simply nodded. Blodeuwyn stepped closer, until the three of us—witch, sorcerer, king—stood at the heart of the circle.
Her voice changed. It took on that other resonance again, the one that thrummed along my bones. Meanwhile, her fingers traced a pattern in the air, leaving trails of sickly green light that coiled like serpents between us.
"By blood and bone and breath held still, I bind your tongue, I break your will. What sleeps inside the Pendragon's chest, no word shall wake, no mouth confess." She took a breath. "Speak not of flame that lives in flesh, nor scales that burn beneath the mesh. The beast unnamed shall cage remain, your silence forged, an iron chain."
The green light twisted tighter, wrapping around Merlin's throat like a noose made of smoke and starlight.
"From this day forth, until your death, no truth shall pass with speaking breath. The dragon's name dies on your tongue, this oath is sealed, the spell is sung." Then she looked at Merlin. "Do you accept this blood-bound oath, Merlin Ambrosius?"
"I do."
