He would look up with horror, with betrayal.
But he didn’t.
Instead, when Finn finally lifted his gaze, relief shone in his bloodshot eyes.
Relief. Not fear. Not hatred.
How? How could Finn still look at him like that, after everything?
A tremor ran through Cedric, his breath rattling out with a shudder. He wanted to say something, but his voice was locked away, trapped behind fangs and scales. He lowered his massive head, drawing as close to Finn as he dared. A soft, keening sound slipped past his lips—apology, plea, all the words he couldn’t form.
Finn didn’t move at first. His hand hovered, fingers shaking, hesitation hanging like a thin barrier between them. But then, with a deep breath, he closed the distance. His palm pressed against Cedric’s snout. The knight’s fingers traced the rough edges of his scales, the warmth of his touch searing through Cedric’s skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
“It’s okay,” Finn murmured, voice hoarse. “I mean, not okay-okay, considering you just tried to flatten me, but—” he exhaled, shoulders sagging. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”
Cedric shut his eyes. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.
But gods, he would take it. He would hold on to it with everything he had.
The sun sank lower, the sky painted in hues of amber and crimson. A prickle ran through Cedric’s body. The warning of his shift approaching. Pain was coming.
He let out a slow, breathy sigh, nudging Finn with his snout before turning toward the stable. Cedric heard the distant bleat of a goat as he paused at the stable entrance.
He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.
When he turned, Finn was already there, watching him. No hesitation, no questions—just a quiet understanding in his gaze.
Without a word, Finn followed him inside, shutting the door behind them.
The last light faded, and the pain began.
Finn watched, jaw tight, as Cedric’s transformation began.
The dragon’s form convulsed, scales rippling like water, melting into sweat-slicked skin. Bones snapped and groaned, twisting, realigning, a grotesque symphony of suffering.
Finn had seen gruesome battlefield wounds, had held dying men in his arms, but this? This was something else.
This was slow. This was agony stretched thin.
Cedric panted, muscles seizing and trembling as his body fought itself. His claws dug into the dirt, talons shrinking into fingers, his wings crumpling in on themselves like paper crushed in a fist. Each shattered breath was a sound Finn never wanted to hear again.
He wanted to do something. To reach out. To stop it.
But he couldn’t.
Finn stood there, helpless, bearing witness to Cedric’s torment—a torment he never should have had to endure.
Darius had made him into this. Had twisted and broken him, piece by piece, until Cedric’s own body had become his cage.
And Cedric had hidden it. Not out of malice. Not out of deceit. But to survive.
Finn had hated him for that lie once—had burned with betrayal at the thought of it.
Now?
Now he would burn Darius’s entire kingdom to the ground before letting anyone put chains on Cedric again. Finn’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.
At last, after what felt like a lifetime, Cedric collapsed. Where a dragon had been moments before, a man lay curled on the stable floor. His chest rose and fell in unsteady gasps, his skin damp with sweat, trembling.
