Chapter 88 Seraphine
I took a breath and turned back toward the rows of beds.
The women were watching me the way people watch a door they’re hoping will open—careful, scared, desperate not to hope too hard.
“Okay,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “This is… new. And experimental. And I am not going to lie to you about that.”
A few of them nodded. One snorted softly, like no kidding.
“As far as I know,” I continued, “there shouldn’t be pain. But I can’t promise anything. What I can promise is that no one will be forced. Ever again.”
That mattered. I could see it in their shoulders, the way some of them unclenched just a little.
“So,” I said, swallowing. “If anyone wants to go first… now would be the time.”
Silence.
Heavy. Pressurized.
Then a woman near the center—mid-thirties, dark hair pulled into a messy knot, eyes sharp despite the bruises on her wrists—cleared her throat.
“I will,” she said.
Just like that.
My heart lurched. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” she replied calmly. “But I’ve felt something in me for years. Cold, mostly. Like winter under my skin. If there’s even a chance this helps… I’ll take it.”
A few of the others murmured her name. Someone squeezed her hand as far as the chains allowed.
I nodded once. “Okay.”
My hands were shaking now.
I turned—and promptly grabbed Dante by the hand and dragged him with me before I could overthink it.
He stumbled half a step, eyes widening. “Sera—”
“You’re taller and older and allegedly wise,” I said quickly. “What do I do?”
He stared at me for a heartbeat too long.
Then blinked. “I—” He exhaled sharply. “I have no idea.”
I stared at him.
“That wasn’t comforting.”
“I know,” he said immediately. “I’m sorry. I just—this isn’t how awakenings usually happen. And I don’t even know if this will work.”
I groaned and rubbed my face. “So what, do I have to knock myself out again and ask my dragon for instructions like it’s a customer service line?”
“No,” Thane said sharply from behind us.
I turned. “No?”
“That is not happening again,” he said flatly. “You barely made it back last time.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Because I was really not looking forward to drowning or chemical naps.”
Lucian cleared his throat. “I might be able to call my father.”
Every head snapped toward him.
“If there’s a phone,” he added. “If he answers.”
Thane hesitated, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black phone. “Mine. It hasn’t been used.”
Lucian took it without ceremony and stepped away, already dialing.
The room fell quiet again.
Too quiet.
Every pair of eyes slid back to me.
And suddenly I was very aware of the scorched walls, the melted machines, the fact that I had recently turned an underground facility into a dragon-themed arson exhibit.
I shifted awkwardly. “For the record,” I said, “I’m really sorry about… all of this.” I gestured vaguely around. “I don’t usually set things on fire. Like. This much.”
A few of the women huffed weak laughs.
“Working on it,” I added. “Promise.”
Dante stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Hey.”
I looked at him.
He searched my face—not for injuries, not for fire—but for something quieter. “Are you okay?”
I snorted softly. “Define okay.”
He shook his head. “I’m not asking about your body. You’re standing. You’re thinking. I mean… in here.” He tapped two fingers lightly over his own chest. “Are you okay?”
I hesitated.
That question was harder than facing Thane. Harder than black fire.
“I’m not,” I admitted quietly. “But… I think I will be. Eventually.”
His shoulders eased a fraction.
“I’m confused,” I went on. “And hurt. And so tired I feel it in my bones. And I would really like to inject common sense into several immortal beings, because this is—” I waved a hand “—a lot.”
A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. “When this is over,” he said softly, “I’m taking you on vacation.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Anywhere,” he continued. “You pick. No kings. No dragons. No end-of-the-world conversations.”
I eyed him. “You’re serious.”
“Completely.” His voice dropped. “You can break my credit cards. Order room service just to not eat it. Sleep for three days straight.”
That… did something to me.
“And if I set something on fire?” I asked.
He smiled. “I’ll bring a fire extinguisher.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Lucian returned then, his expression unreadable. He held the phone out to me instead of Dante.
“He wants to speak to you,” Lucian said quietly.
My stomach dropped. “Me?”
“He said it was… necessary.”
I took the phone carefully, like it might bite.
“Hello?” I said.
There was a pause.
Then a voice whispered something in a language I didn’t know—but somehow understood.
One phrase.
Low. Resonant. Deadly.
My vision went white—
Then black.
Fire tore through me.
Not outward.
Up.
Black flames engulfed my body in an instant, ripping a gasp from my throat as the heat and cold collided inside me. People shouted. Chairs scraped. Someone swore.
Dante lunged forward. Lucian dragged him back.
“Don’t touch her!”
The world tilted.
The last thing I felt was fire folding inward—
And then nothing at all.
My dragon stood across from me.
She wasn’t just red anymore.
She was red and purple and black, her scales shimmering like oil on fire, wings half-furled, eyes blazing with a fury so sharp it made my chest ache.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded.
Her voice wasn’t thunderous this time. It was furious. Personal. The kind of anger that comes when someone crosses a line they had no right to even see.
I swallowed. “I— I don’t know. I swear. One second I was holding a phone, the next—” I gestured helplessly at the inferno around us. “This.”
She stalked closer, black fire rolling off her in waves. “Of course you don’t know,” she snapped. “Because someone else decided to interfere.”
“Interfere with what?” I asked. “With us?”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “With our evolution.”
That word landed wrong.
“My what?”
She stopped in front of me, towering and incandescent, then exhaled sharply—like she was forcing herself to slow down.
“He spoke Dragon Tongue,” she said. “Not casually. Not conversationally. He used a directive phrase.”
My stomach dropped. “That… sounds bad.”
“It is,” she replied. “Because Dragon Tongue doesn’t just communicate. It commands. Especially when spoken by someone old enough to know the dead words.”