A blur of gold and terror crashed into Finn, so fast he had no time to react. Pain exploded through his skull as his back slammed into the earth. His lungs crushed under the dragon’s claws.
Finn gasped for air. This was real. This was happening.
He had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
Above him, jaws unhinged. Flames lit the depths of the dragon’s throat. And Finn understood, at last, that he was going to die.
He should have been afraid. He should have begged.
Instead, he whispered, “I love you.” His voice broke. Finn tasted blood on his tongue. “I love you. And I forgive you.”
The dragon loomed over its prey.
The weak thing beneath his claws was still breathing, still trembling, still his. Molten fire swelled inside him, ready to burn the last fight out of this creature.
He had done this before. Again and again. He had felt bones snap, tasted the tang of a kill. It was instinct, it was hunger, it was right.
His prey did not beg. It whispered.
“I love you.”
The dragon shuddered. The words were meaningless. They should have been meaningless. But something inside him cracked.
A tremor rippled through his scales. The magic snarled at the disturbance, coiling tighter around his mind, pressing its will upon his flesh. Finish it. Burn him. Kill him.
The voice came again, soft as a dying breath. “I love you. And I forgive you.”
Cedric screamed. But not out loud. Not in a way anyone could hear.
He was there. Inside the dragon’s mind. Watching. Powerless.
And Finn was about to die.
The dragon did not understand love. It did not understand forgiveness. But Cedric did. And gods, he couldn’t bear it.
He saw Finn clearly now, not as prey, but as everything.
The man who had stood beside him beneath the stars. Who had shamelessly flirted with him, who had watched him carve wood into something beautiful. The man who had trusted him.
And now Finn was trusting him with his death.
No. No, please, gods, no.
The magic lashed at him, a thousand barbed chains yanking him deeper into the beast. His body was not his own. The fire in his throat gathered, ready to reduce Finn to nothing.
Move. Fight. Stop this.
But the dragon was stronger. His body would not listen.
Finn didn’t cower beneath Cedric’s claws. He didn’t look away. He met Cedric’s gaze with bloodshot eyes, ready for whatever might come. Then he lifted a filthy, bloodstained hand and rested it on Cedric’s claw. Warm and intimate, a sign of love.
The dragon flinched.
It was enough. Cedric took it. He wrenched at the curse that had bound him. He clawed for himself, for Finn, for his own damn soul. The fire in his throat guttered out. His talons lifted.
A ragged snarl tore from his chest, and he staggered back. The chains of magic screeched against him, yanking him toward obedience.
Beneath him, Finn stirred. “Cedric?” His voice was pained but alive.
