Pain like I’ve never felt before lances through my core, like I’m ripping at the seams. It’s so sudden the terror of it grips me and refuses to loosen its hold.
“Don’t fight it,” Ozias says.
I don’t listen. I scream as the transformation tears like a wind across the grassy plains, swift and unforgiving and powerful. I push against it as hard as I can, trying to hold onto my frail human frame. Try as I might, teeth grinding hard, I contort and reshape.
My bones crack and bend.
My skin twists and splits as scales and soft fur replace my flesh.
My jaw unhinges, opening wide, accommodating my elongating teeth. The razor sharp edges slice my lips.
My fingers splinter, talons curving from the nail bed, my hands unrecognizable as they slide into the ground, as if it were the ripe silt of a riverbed instead of solid rock.
My back arches, muscles bunching, and my wings unfurl, but I’m held tight by the chains. It is torture. It is agony to be given these wings and not unleash them into the sky. I gnash my great teeth. I rear my mighty head. I scream and screech and bellow from the depths of my massive chest.
My eyes wheel upwards, towards the newly star speckled night, searching for the familiar away from the chains that bind me and my body that betrays me.
I roar and rage and rage. My heart pumps wildly. And finally my mind spins inward towards a deep unknown inside myself, and then I feel nothing else but the desire to destroy. The world goes dark, and my soul goes with it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MY BODY FEELS painfully small back inside my human skin. I should be glad; it means Ozias was telling the truth, and yet, a small part of me is aching to expand into that beast once more. Then, I think of the transformation, the pain and revulsion of it seared into my mind. The rest of the night comes back to me in fragments and shards of multicolored glass, like gazing through a sunbeam. A slash of white, gritting teeth. Silent screams from a wide open mouth. A black so deep it has no end. A sky littered with stars fading into nothingness. Chains slipping against scale covered muscles, a tangled mane tugging and tearing on links, wings heavy and grounded, tongue dripping with blood. My body is a bruised fruit, my blood like sticky juice leaking from its broken skin.
Twisting my head, my cheek grazes the grit on the cool compact dirt floor. From between the heavy chain link net,Ozias stares at me. He’s sitting, leaned against an expansive brown stone wall, forearm draped over one raised knee while his other leg stretches out long in front of him. His open robe is held together by a single band across his ribs, showing off his clean cut abs and chiseled chest. In contrast, I’m panting, sweat dripping down my temples. My dress torn and tattered. Exhaustion and the blows I suffered have swollen my eyes, making them difficult to keep open. I press my mouth shut and squeeze my eyes closed.
When I open them again, Ozias is still there. The sun must have risen some time ago since it’s bright, even in the pits of what I’ve made out to be some kind of holding chamber. From my position pinned to the ground, I can’t make out how high the walls are. I press myself up, but only get so far with the heavy chains holding me down. I shake first from the effort, and then from some deep-seated, innate response to confinement. My airways constrict.
“Get. Me.Out,” I snarl. My throat is torn to shreds and I hardly recognize my voice. A violent tremor rocks my body.
Ozias tilts his head to the side. “I won’t be the one to do the honors, but someone is coming.”
“No,” I pant, my muscles coiled tight. “I need to get out now. I can’t.” I suck in a deep breath.
“You can. Breathe. Someone is coming.” His calm demeanor only enrages me.
I huff out a harsh exhale. My body is beyond sore and holding myself up beneath the chains is doing nothing to regain my strength, but at least it makes me feel like I’m doing something. “Get Ninon. I don’t want anyone else.”
“I can’t do that.”
I bare my teeth. “Horseshit. Astherogue isn’t this is your Realm? You can do anything.”
His eyes narrow a fraction. “How I wish that were true.” He studies me, watching my chest billow. “She doesn’t want to see you. Not yet, at least.”
I bark a laugh, which spirals into wild hysterics. The fight in my bones leaves me and I wilt down onto the cold, hard ground, letting my cheek rest in the fine scattering ofdirt. “That’s the weakest lie I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s no lie,” he says, as gentle as a breeze. “She doesn’t wish to see you now; she will see you when she’s ready.”
A sob teeters on my breath, and any remaining strength I thought I could muster goes with it. Perhaps I imagined Ninon last night. Conjured her in my mind, and this man is torturing me, manipulating me to bide his time like I did with Alixor. “I’m tired. Go get her and be done with this.”
When he doesn’t reply, I tilt my head to see him better. Rising from his resting place, he comes to me and leans in close so I can see his face more clearly. As handsome as I remember, but I liked it a little better last night when he helped me than I do now. “I’m sorry that you came to be here without fully knowing what you were getting into, but I’m glad that you are.” I can only narrow my eyes at him, though with my swollen eyes, I’m certain the effect is lost.
We both turn our attention towards the walkway, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps at the same time. My hearing has never been as good as a dragon’s and suddenly my mouth dries as panic sets in. “Your help is here.” He rises and steps away.
“No. Wait.”
He keeps moving, his voice echoing back to me, “We’ll speak soon.”
I don’t know who’s coming. I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing here. I hazily recall the words he left Thrace with, his intention to give me a life worth living. If only I believed words spoken with dragon breath. “Send Ninon,” I scream after him. When there’s no response, I shout again, my voice cracking on the words, “Send her!”
