43 - Little Flame

**Lysandra**

I stared at Drakar, mind blown. "You can hear my thoughts?"

His smirk deepened, that infuriating grin that always seemed to hold all the answers. He nodded, as if the question didn’t even deserve a verbal response.

I crossed my hands and glared at him. I couldn't help but think, he was an asshole. 

His smirk widened into a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement. It was the kind of laugh that made my blood boil, as if he found joy in poking my nerves.

"Ah, little flame, your ancestors would be ashamed," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Hearing you swear at poor little me like that."

Before I could stop myself, I laughed. It wasn’t a polite laugh or a hollow sound to mask my feelings. It was genuine, full of something I hadn’t felt in months —since my wedding. It was just the two of us again, like old times, but this time it felt...different. More pleasant.

It startled me as much as it surprised him. 

His teasing words, usually an irritation, hit a different note this time. Something about his tone, his expression, made the laughter come so easily. Like the tension that built within me since arriving at the palace was loosening, thread by thread.

As I laughed, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It was a fleeting moment of freedom from the suffocating loneliness that had been my constant companion in the palace.

Drakar's expression softened, and he placed his hands on either side of the shelf ladder, caging me in. 

His nearness was overwhelming, his scent enveloped me. I should have felt fear but for some strange reason courage seeped from every pore on my skin.

His smirk softened, and his eyes locking onto mine.

"I can hear you," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Then, don't leave this time. I thought. 

The words echoing in my mind. The words carrying a weight I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

His gaze bore into me, and I wondered if he'd truly heard me. It wasn't just a thought—it was a plea. A silent confession.

His expression flickered, as if he’d heard my silent plea. He stared at me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of understanding.

But before he could say anything, his face contorted in pain. A low, guttural groan escaped him, and his body trembled as if he was fighting something invisible.

Just like the first time.

My heart skipped a beat as I watched him struggle. 

His movements were jerky, uncoordinated, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled in every direction. His breath grew shallow, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

What was happening to him? Why did he look like he was fighting some inner battle?

He stepped back. 

"Drakar?" I stepped forward, my voice barely above a whisper.

He winced, his eyes screwing shut.

"Leave," he hissed through clenched teeth, his tone sharp and strained.

The word hit me like a physical blow. Leave? After everything? The hurt flared briefly, but determination overtook it.

"No." My voice was firmer now, steadier than I felt. "Not this time. I won’t leave you."

Drakar's eyes snapped open, their intensity almost blinding. He looked around the room frantically, as if searching for an escape. But all the windows were sealed, and the doors were locked.

Then his body convulsed.

His knees hit the ground with a thunderous thud, and his fingers clawed at the floor. The sound of cracking bones and tearing skin filled the room, making my stomaches churn.

I stumbled back as his form rippled, scales breaking through his skin with a sickening crack. His shoulders broadened, his limbs lengthened, and his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps.

When the transformation stopped, Drakar’s dragon form stood before me, massive and imposing. His scales shimmered in the dim light, a mesmerizing blend of obsidian and bronze. His eyes burned like molten amber laced with shadows.

"What the heck?" I whispered, unable to tear my gaze away. 

Drakar's dragon form loomed over me, his breath hot and heavy, each exhale carrying a growl. 

The ground beneath us seemed to vibrate with his energy, an aura of barely-contained power. His tail swisher behind him, the sharp movement sending stacks of books tumbling to the floor. 

His eyes were fixed on mine. I could sense his turmoil, his struggle to maintain control. 

The violent energy that made the air around him hum.

But underneath it all, there was something else. A sadness. A pain that mirrored my own.

What was happening to him? And why did I feel like I was the only one who could help him?

These questions that ran through my head were inside-out and frightening. 

I should run. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, to get as far away as possible. But my feet refused to move. I couldn't bring myself to leave him. Not like this.

My heart raced, not with fear, but with resolve. If I left him now, I knew the guilt would consume me. He needed someone. He needed me.

Instead, I stepped closer.

"Drakar," I said softly, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me. "I’m not leaving you."

He let out a growl that was far from being soft. But I held my ground. 

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. I would find a way to help Drakar, no matter what it took.

As the growl subsided, he turned his gaze towards the library. 

With newfound determination, I followed him, my heart pounding in my chest. I had no idea what lay ahead, but I was ready to face it.

The halls seemed darker, the flickering torches casting shadows on the walls. Each step I took echoed, the sound swallowed by the silence. 

As I turned a corner, I caught a glimpse of Drakar's retreating back. He was heading towards the library. I quickened my pace, my senses on high alert.

And then, I heard a loud roar.