Chapter 102 Eyebrows Optional
Bella
No one dares sleep again after that. We all sit in various states of sleep-deprived around the room until dawn comes thin and grey, like it’s afraid of us. No bird's song breaks the silence. No breeze stirs the air through the narrow windows. The tower feels hollow and uncomfortable. I sit still for a moment, watching as everyone moves. Boots shifting, armour settling, the quiet clink of steel, everyone is in full alert zombie mode. We rested, sure, if resting meant sitting still and staring at a spot on the wall with your ear on high alert. None of us were game to see what sort of nightmares were to be had if we dared to feel comfortable enough to drift off. Ashlyn sits against the wall opposite me, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around herself like she’s holding her body together by force of will alone. Her eyes are open, but she doesn't connect with anything. I don’t say her name; I don't want to startle her. I just cross the space and sit beside her, shoulder to shoulder, close enough that she can lean into me if she wants to. She doesn’t, but that's okay, too. Down below, Damien’s voice carries softly as he calmly gives instructions. It's the same voice he used last night when the tower was freezing, and Ashlyn was shaking, and the world almost lost her. The dragon hums beneath his words, restless but leashed, anger held tight under discipline.
Ashlyn exhales sharply. “I hate that I remember it. She could have been nicer and just wiped my whole brain.”
“Remember what exactly?” I ask gently.
“How easy it felt,” she says. “It was like the world finally stopped pressing on my chest.” Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t even want to go... I just wanted it to stop. She gave me this one little glimpse into how I could feel, and the rest was history.”
I don’t tell her she’s strong. I don’t tell her it wasn’t her fault yet. She knows those words already. They don’t help when you’re still inside the echo of the thing that almost took you. Footsteps approach, heavier than mine but quieter than they should be. Red stops a few paces away, then lowers herself to sit across from us, back against the opposite wall. She doesn’t crowd. She doesn’t soften her posture. She just meets Ashlyn’s gaze and holds it.
“That could have been anyone,” Red says plainly.
Ashlyn scoffs weakly. “Lucky me.”
“No,” Red replies, unbothered. “Unlucky timing. You've been through some shit. That’s not a flaw.” She pauses, considering her words. “Most evil doesn’t care who it touches. It just wants to touch something. Anything that reacts.” Ashlyn swallows. “She didn’t choose you because you’re weak or an easy target,” Red continues. “She chose you because you were there.”
That lands differently. I see it in the way Ashlyn’s shoulders ease just a fraction, like she’s finally able to set something down. Red makes it sound much less cryptic and much more straightforward.
“Alright,” she says. “Time to move.”
Ashlyn blinks. “Move where?”
“Outside,” Red replies. “Before this place gets any more ideas.” Her gaze flicks toward the wall where the mirror used to stand, then away again, like it isn’t worth another second of attention. “Your king’s already made the call. Dragons are ready to burn this shit hole to the ground.”
That gets my attention. We don’t argue. We gather what little we brought up here, straps pulled tight, packs slung over our shoulders with practised efficiency. No one looks back at the frost-scarred stone. We follow Red down the spiral staircase, boots echoing against the walls, the air growing warmer with every step. The moment we emerge into the clearing, I see every soldier is already shifted. Dragons fill the space where men stood the night before — massive bodies coiled and ready, wings half-furled, heat rolling off them in visible waves that distort the morning air. Their gear and clothes are stacked well back from the tower, neat and organised and ready to avoid the fire. Damien stands at the centre of it all in his dragon form, vast and terrible and beautiful in equal measure, his attention snapping to me the instant I step into the open.
The dragon’s presence brushes my mind, warm and unmistakably pleased. Perhaps you would like a ride today, Snowflake? He asks, with a tone of smug affection. It would be faster and safer.
I laugh before I can stop myself, the sound light and startled and very much not what I expected to come out of me after the night we’ve had.
Ashlyn squints at me immediately. “What?”
I bite my lip, still smiling despite myself. “He asked if I wanted to ride him.”
Ashlyn’s brows shoot up. “Wow. Okay. I’m not sure if that was meant to be a sexual innuendo, but I have follow-up questions.” She gestures broadly at the assembled dragons. “Like why the hell have we not been flying this entire time?”
Red snorts, and Damien’s dragon rumbles low, clearly amused. The dragon’s attention snaps fully to me then, heat pulsing beneath his scales as his wings shift outward with deliberate warning.
Stand back, Snowflake, he tells me, voice firm but threaded with unmistakable fondness. And take your friends with you, if they would like to keep their eyebrows.
I snort because, honestly, fair enough.
“Alright,” I say, lifting a hand and backing away. “You heard him. Eyebrows are apparently optional today.”
Ashlyn squints at the dragons, “I’ve grown attached to mine.”
Red doesn’t argue at all. She pivots on her heel and gestures us toward the stacked gear, already moving like someone who understands exactly what kind of destruction is about to unfold. We stop at a safe distance, packs at our feet, the morning air vibrating with restrained power.
Then the dragons unleash hell. Fire erupts in a coordinated surge, flames roaring outward in brilliant arcs as massive bodies slam into stone and timber alike. Claws rake through walls that were already cracked and weakened, wings battering what remains, as the watchtower finally gives up. Stone explodes outward. Beams snap and collapse. Heat rolls over us in suffocating waves, scorching grass and sending sparks spiralling skyward like a thousand dying stars. It is loud, violent, excessive and very, very male.
Ashlyn watches with her mouth open. “Wow,” she says faintly. “That is… a lot of feelings.”
The tower collapses completely under the final onslaught, reduced to rubble and ash and smoke curling lazily into the sky. The dragons settle, fire dying down as they turn back toward us, massive silhouettes against the morning light. Damien’s dragon moves first. He approaches slowly, deliberately, the ground trembling under each step, until he stops directly in front of me. Then, with careful reverence, he lowers his massive head, bowing in unmistakable submission. My breath catches.
Red exhales softly beside me, awe bleeding through her usual sharp composure. “I want one,” she mutters.
I don’t look away from him.
“Any but mine.”