Chapter 75 Seraphine
The van lurched hard as we hit a stretch of broken road.
Metal groaned. Chains rattled. Someone cried out as her shoulder slammed into the wall.
The human in the front seat swore and then—without warning—climbed into the back.
My pulse spiked.
He moved fast. Efficient. Like this wasn’t his first time.
He dropped into a crouch beside the nearest woman and pressed a cloth over her mouth and nose. She thrashed for half a second, eyes wide, then went slack.
Another girl. Same thing.
Muffled sounds. Panic. Then nothing.
Thane watched it all with lazy amusement, one arm braced against the van wall. When his eyes met mine, his mouth curved.
“Soon enough,” he said calmly, “you’ll be mine. And this whole fucking inconvenience will be over.”
The human turned toward me.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t thrash.
I stared straight up at Thane as the cloth came down over my face, sharp chemical stench burning my sinuses.
And something in me snapped.
Fire surged—not outward, not wild—focused.
Precise.
Thane’s hair went up in flames.
Not an explosion. Not a roar.
Just whoosh—sudden, violent ignition.
“What the—!” he shouted, jerking back, smacking at his head.
Renee swerved the van, cursing loudly.
Thane grabbed a drink bottle from the floor and dumped it over his head, steam hissing as the flames died.
I smiled at him through the haze.
Then the chemicals took hold.
The world tilted. Sound stretched thin. The van dissolved into darkness.
I wasn’t in the van anymore.
I stood on scorched stone beneath an open sky, heat rippling through the air like a living thing.
In front of me loomed a massive red dragon.
Her scales burned like molten metal, light catching in every ridge and curve. Her eyes—my eyes—were gold and knowing and deeply unimpressed.
She wrapped her tail around me gently, drawing me closer until I stood beneath the arch of her neck.
“Well,” she said dryly, her voice echoing inside my bones, “this is not how I would’ve preferred our first meeting.”
I swallowed. “I’m… sorry?”
She huffed, a plume of heat washing over me. “Confused, apologetic, and still standing. Not bad.”
“You’re—” I hesitated. “You’re my dragon.”
She tilted her head. “I am you. And you are me. You’ve just been very committed to ignoring that.”
The realization settled deep, heavy and strange. “So I’ve been talking to myself this whole time.”
“Yes,” she said. “And frankly, you’re exhausting.”
Despite everything, a shaky laugh escaped me.
Then she lifted her wings.
My breath caught.
Along the center of her back—spreading outward like ink in water—were dark patches. Not wounds. Not rot.
Something… changing.
“There’s something wrong,” I whispered. “Is this because I pushed you away?”
“No,” she said immediately. “That’s not how this works.”
She folded her wings again, meeting my gaze steadily. “If you reject me, I come back louder. Meaner. You don’t get rid of me that way.”
“Then what is it?”
She was quiet for a moment.
“I’m not dying,” she said finally. “I’m evolving.”
That didn’t make me feel better. “Into what?”
“That,” she said gently, “depends on who claims you.”
My chest tightened. “What do you mean?”
“I cannot be everything,” she explained. “I am fire. That is what I am meant to be. But prolonged exposure to another king’s essence—death, shadow, storm—can alter me. Slowly. Permanently.”
Understanding slammed into me.
“If I stay near Thane—”
“You won’t be fire anymore,” she finished. “You’ll be death.”
I felt sick. “That’s what he wants. With all of us.”
“Yes.”
“For… power?”
She looked at me sharply. “For reproduction.”
The word echoed, cold and horrifying.
“He wants dragonborn who change,” she continued. “Who can be reshaped into his domain. An army that answers only to him.”
“Is that normal?” I asked. “Dragons changing like that?”
“Not usually,” she said. “But it happens. Kings steal other kings’ mates. It’s old. Ugly. Political.”
My hands curled into fists. “Because I’m not claimed.”
“Yes.”
The word landed hard.
“Until you are claimed,” she said quietly, “any king can take you. And I will adapt to survive. Fire to death. Death to shadow. Shadow to storm.”
“I don’t want that,” I said fiercely.
“Good,” she replied. “Neither do I.”
“Then why does this happen?” I demanded. “If you’re me—if you’re my core—why can I be changed like that?”
She went very still.
Her eyes locked onto mine.
And when she spoke, her voice dropped to a whisper that shook the world.
“That,” she said, “is the perfect question.”
The ground beneath us cracked.
The sky went dark.
And everything vanished.
Cold slammed into me.
Not the slow, creeping kind.
Violent. Total. Crushing.
Water swallowed my scream as my head was forced under, my body jolting awake in a shock of agony and confusion. My lungs seized instantly, reflex screaming for air that wasn’t there. Chains jerked tight at my wrists as I thrashed, the world reduced to pressure and burning cold and panic.
Hands held me down.
Strong.
Unyielding.
Just as my chest began to spasm, just as black spots crept into the edges of my vision—
I was yanked back up.
Air tore into my lungs in a raw, painful gasp. I coughed violently, water pouring from my mouth and nose as I sucked in breath after breath like I’d never breathe again.
Thane’s face was inches from mine.
Smiling.
“Welcome back,” he said pleasantly.
Before I could spit a curse at him, before I could even fully orient myself—
He dunked me again.
This time I was ready enough to hold my breath for half a second longer, but it didn’t matter. The water was ice-cold, biting straight through muscle and bone. My head rang. My thoughts scattered.
I felt something stir deep inside me.
Not fire.
Not heat.
Something else.
I was hauled up again, coughing, gagging, shaking uncontrollably as water streamed down my hair and soaked my clothes. My teeth chattered violently now, every nerve screaming.
“Don’t let her linger,” Thane said casually to someone behind me. “Cold makes them… pliable.”
I blinked hard, vision swimming.
We weren’t in the van anymore.
We were in a room—stone walls slick with moisture, water pooled across the floor, drains cut into the concrete. Industrial lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a pale, sickly glow. I was chained upright now, wrists spread, ankles barely touching the ground.
A dunk tank.
Primitive. Cruel. Effective.
Thane stepped back, examining me like a craftsman assessing raw material.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured. “The pull.”
I swallowed hard, throat burning. “You’re insane.”
He chuckled. “So they all say at first.”
I tried—instinctively—to reach for my fire.
It answered.
Weakly.
Distant.
Like a voice shouting through deep water.
Cold pressed in from every side, smothering heat before it could take hold. My dragon recoiled, not gone, not broken—but strained.
Thane noticed.
His eyes lit with satisfaction. “There it is. Resistance. Confusion. Perfect conditions.”
I glared at him through shaking lashes. “You think you can just… change me?”
“I know I can,” he replied calmly. “Fire burns fast. It exhausts itself. Death…” His smile sharpened. “Death endures.”