Mum’s journal’s in my pack. Waiting. Just under the flap. But if I open it now… what am I going to find? And if I don’t, if I leave it shut, maybe I get to pretend, for one more night, that none of this is real. That she didn’t serve here, that the version of her I’ve carried all this time wasn’t a lie.
No, I’m not ready for that either. Still, I need something to distract me from my thoughts, so I grab the Citadel Codex of Order from Ezzy’s desk—thick, stiff-spined, and sanctimonious—and flip it open to a random page.Law 9: The Draconic Accordance.Boring. Perfect.
My eyes blur halfway through the first paragraph, and by the third, I’m out, mind spinning as darkness drags me under into a restless sleep.
LAW 9: THE DRACONIC ACCORDANCE
Mandate:No citizen shall establish contact, communion, or covenant with any known or suspected dragon-kind, regardless of intention or circumstance. This prohibition applies across all regions under Citadel jurisdiction, including but not limited to the Innerlands, the Outerlands, and territories beyond the Northern and Southern Peaks.
Consequence:Violation of this law shall result in immediate Reassignment, without appeal.
Definitions:Reassignmentrefers to the lawful redeployment of noncompliant individuals to the front line of the Northern Peaks, where their presence shall aid in the defence of the Realms against continued dragon incursions originating beyond the perimeter of our Veils.
Historical Clarification:The Treaty of the Four Threads, ratified 337 years prior, ensured the banishment of dragon-kind to the Outerlands Northern and Southern Peaks. The Accordance exists to uphold that peace. The dragons, while once revered, proved incapable of coexistence. Their presence now represents a breach in Order, a threat to Civil Harmony, and a seduction toward chaotic powers incompatible with Citadel Law.
Addendum:The act of bonding with a dragon—biological, mental, or spiritual—constitutes High Treason, punishable by both Reassignment. This practice, once mythologised in ancient texts, has been proven to destabilise emotional equilibrium, cognitive independence, and social cohesion.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Home. That’s the lie I tell myself, just for a breath, I let it settle over me, fragile and warm, like if I hold on long enough, it might stick. That I’m somewhere else, somewhere safe.
But it doesn’t hold.
Not when the rough pillow beneath my cheek is damp—sweat from a night spent turning over and over, chasing sleep that never came. No dreams. No rest. Just the dark weight of everything that happened yesterday clawing at my ribs.
Beneath the blanket, my body aches, from Ryven, fromhim. I try to ignore it. Pretend it’s just a pulled muscle. A dream. Nothing real. But every time I move, it pulses, sharp and certain, like the memory of his touch is etched into my skin.
Looking for comfort, I drift my hand across the mattress, but already knowing what isn’t there—no Bren, no warmth, no teasing grin to soften the edges. Just cold air and empty space.
And if my body still isn’t convinced I'm not home, the smell of the room seals the deal—dust, old parchment, that faintmildew tang that clings to everything here. But underneath it, something softer. Floral, too sweet to belong.
My eyes snap open.
Grey stone ceiling. Large wooden door. Two desks. And Ezzy—currently perched on the edge of my bed, legs bouncing, sparkly hairpin still in place.
Yeah, a Citadel dorm.Fuck. I’m still here.
“You came back,” her voice cracks, mouth twitching like she’s fighting a smile, and losing. Then, more serious: “What happened?”
The words slice through me, jarring and sudden.Shit, what do I say? I just want to get through today without screwing up more than I already have. Survive the fallout from last night, but do it without losing Ezzy’s trust in the process.
She helped me last night. She didn’t have to, but she did.
And I need people here to survive, but right now, I don’t know which answer gets me there.
The rough blanket catches on my skin as I sit up, dragging it around my shoulders to buy some time.
I could just tell her. About Talen—the Nightrose. That I saw him in the tunnel last night, and instead of killing me, he offered a truce and that I’m still half-convinced he’ll gut me anyway. Be honest for once, start this thing off right.
But the lie’s already there, forming on my tongue like muscle memory.And yeah, I feel like shit about it.But Talen made it clear: if I talk, I die. And if he found out she helped me? Maybe she could too.
I don’t want her tangled in this. Don’t want her poking around, thinking she can help. I just need her to back off before either of us get hurt.So what choice do I have?
“I hit the Wards and couldn’t get through,” I lie, voice tight. “Played it safe and came back.”
Ezzy hesitates, just for a second. Her eyes narrow, but then her expression shifts, soft again.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I know how much you wanted to get home. Out of here...”She glances away, then back, trying for casual. “I guess that means I’m stuck with a roommate for the rest of the month... But I’ll get over it.” A forced shrug, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Just, are you not going to try again?” Her voice lowers. “What about Talen?”
