────────────⋆˖☽ ​​𝑨 𝑪𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒓𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 ☾˖⋆────────────

The green tea Celia shared had not been a lie, promising no sleep. It left me coiled and taut in the darkness, every nerve ending alight. I lay on the silk sheets, a prisoner tracking the slow crawl of moonlight across the golden vines of the crown molding. Since Celia’s departure, I’d marked the passage of time by the muffled footfalls in the hall—five distinct patrols, their rhythm a constant reminder of the cage I was in.

My own stillness became unbearable. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet finding no purchase before my body folded, and I sank to the floor. The shock of cold marble against my cheek, cleared the last of the tea’s haze. My hand shot out, fingers brushing the curved wood of the bow resting under the bed. Still here. Still safe. The thought was a hope.

Rising, I moved through the room like a Nyxraith. The rough-spun black shirt and pants I pulled from the dresser were an anchor to who I was beneath all this finery. I shrugged into the familiar weight of my cloak, the worn leather and wool a second skin. The clasp snapped shut with a definitive click. I was sitting on the edge of the mattress, pulling on my boots, when a new set of footsteps approached—hurried, deliberate, and stopping directly outside my door. My spine went rigid. I was yanking the second boot into place when a firm knock cut through the silence.

“Alanah. May I come in?”

The voice was a low timbre of velvet and steel. Mikaeus.

“You may,” I called out, my voice louder and harsher than I’d intended.

The door swung inward. I didn’t look up, focusing instead on the last buckle of my boot. I could feel his presence fill the space, a tangible pressure in the air. I tracked him by sound: the soft tread of his boots on the rug, the whisper of fabric as he moved, the faint, clean scent of ozone and cedar. He stopped a few feet away—close enough to command, far enough to show caution.

“Good morning, Alanah,” he said. He sounded exhausted.

“Is it?” I finally secured the buckle and raised my head, meeting his gaze.

He was dressed down, a simple tunic and trousers replacing his usual formal attire. It was a disarming sight, but his perfectly styled hair and the unwavering intensity in his golden eyes were unchanged. His stare felt like a physical touch, and I instinctively pulled the hood of my cloak forward, letting the shadows obscure my face.

His eyes narrowed. “I’d prefer you leave that here.”

My hand tightened on the fabric at my throat. “The cloak?” My surprise was genuine. “It’s a part of me.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be able to see your face. Are you ready?”

I pushed myself up from the bed, standing to face him fully. “I am.”

“Good.” His expression hardened, all trace of weariness gone. “Then there are conditions. You will remain at my side. Not a step ahead, not a step behind. I don’t want you out of my sight for a single second. And the final condition is this: no matter what happens, you will not harm anyone. They are good people here, Alanah.”

I wouldn’t harm them, I thought, the words a bitter in my mouth. They are innocent. A phantom pressure ghosted across my fingertips—the memory of my bowstring biting into his throat, the cold, clean clarity of my intent to kill. My gaze dropped from his face, blurring on the wall beyond him. He was protecting these people from me. He had every right.

He pulled the door open, gesturing for me to precede him. As it clicked shut behind us, the sound sealed a pact I hadn’t agreed to. This is my fault, I admitted to myself as we moved through the silent halls, his steps falling into a perfect, unnerving rhythm with my own. This is the consequence. I will bear it.

We descended the main staircase, the grand entrance hall sprawling below. A man with salt-and-pepper hair and the rigid posture of a soldier emerged from a side corridor. My eyes traced the line of his uniform, catching on the glint of a dagger at his thigh. Why does a steward need a weapon?

“Good morning, Mikaeus,” the man said, his voice smooth. He offered a respectful but brief bow.

“Barret,” Mikaeus returned evenly.

Barret’s sharp, assessing blue eyes flickered to me, lingering for a fraction of a second too long. “To the town?” he inquired, his focus snapping back to Mikaeus.

“Yes. We won’t be long.”

“Good. I’ll need you in the west wing before noon.” With a final, curt nod, Barret strode away, his boots echoing towards the distant training yard. 

Mikaeus led me to the grand front doors and pulled one open. “After you.”

I stepped out and was immediately assaulted by the light. The air was so clean it scoured the lungs, carrying the scent of rain-soaked grass and something floral, like night-blooming jasmine. The sky was a hazy, pearlescent white, but a bruise of purple clouds gathered on the distant horizon. I looked down. The path wasn’t gravel, but smooth, white stone that seemed to drink the light, shot through with veins of glittering fragments.

“Crystals,” Mikaeus said, following my gaze. “They strengthen the stone. A method the dragons taught our ancestors. Everything you see, we built with them. Together.”

My head snapped toward him. “You’re telling me that monsters helped build this place?”

A familiar sadness touched his golden eyes. “They are not monsters, Alanah. They are dragons. And they are our partners.”

I turned away, looking out over the town nestled in the valley below. The buildings themselves seemed to possess a soft, internal glow, an impossible architecture born of magic. My thoughts were shattered by a deafening roar of rushing water. To the west, framed by colossal mountains, a series of massive waterfalls crashed into a misty basin, their power a palpable tremor in the air.

As I stared, a silhouette of bronze and obsidian blotted out the clouds for a heartbeat. It soared between the peaks, wings catching the light like polished steel. A dragon. A visceral, cold dread shot through me. I flinched back, my hand flying to the empty space on my back where my quiver should be.

Mikaeus was suddenly closer, his voice low and calm. “It’s alright. They will not harm you here.”

It doesn’t matter what you say, I replied in the silence of my mind. I will never trust them. They are beasts. They build today, they burn tomorrow.

As if he could hear the thought, he stepped directly into my line of sight, forcing my attention. “Alanah, I need you to trust me.”

Trust is a luxury I cannot afford. Especially from you. My finger tapped once in the empty air, a nervous twitch I couldn’t suppress.

“There is something else,” he continued, his tone hardening with purpose. “The dragons… you will see them in the town. They work with us, live among us. Not all are the towering creatures of your nightmares. Some… are quite small.”

My breath caught in my throat.

He closed the final sliver of distance between us, his presence overwhelming. “You cannot attack them. That is the most important condition. You want the answers? Then you must be willing to see beyond the propaganda you’ve been fed. I am offering you my trust first.” His golden eyes were pleading, desperately searching mine. “I know how difficult this is. But I am trying to show you the truth. Please. Can I trust you not to harm them?”

I held his gaze, a silent war raging within me. Finally, I gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I won’t attack them.” The words felt like a betrayal of everything I had ever known.

After all, I thought, my resolve hardening into a new shape, I have to see the rest of Luminethra for myself.

A small, relieved smile touched his lips. “Good. Then let us go.”

I fell into step beside him as we made our way down the crystal path. The town revealed itself in breathtaking vignettes. A stonemason guided a cart laden with shimmering, raw crystals. It was pulled not by an ox, but by a stocky, bronze-scaled dragon no larger than a horse, its powerful legs churning with placid strength. The man saw Mikaeus and gave a broad, friendly wave. The dragon ignored us completely.

The buildings rose to meet us, their luminous walls carved with grace. Homes were built directly into the cliff faces, their windows like glowing eyes in the rock. The air hummed with life—not the hurried clamor of the cities I knew, but the resonant chime of a distant forge and genuine, echoing laughter.

Everyone here is… happy, the thought struck me, alien and unsettling.

Mikaeus stopped, his gaze fixed on my face. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. It feels wrong. Every instinct screams that this is a facade, an illusion waiting to shatter. But the joy on these faces… it’s real. They are simply naive, sheltered from the world of fire and ruin.

My focus sharpened. I began mapping the layout of the town, my gaze becoming analytical. That’s when I saw a little girl with ribbons in her hair toss a stick into a park. “Go get it, Zym!” she squealed. A blur of iridescent purple shot past—a tiny dragon, no bigger than a fox, its tail wagging furiously. It snatched the branch and pranced back, dropping it at her feet for a rewarding scratch behind its horns.

Don’t be distracted, I reminded myself, forcing my attention away. Escape route. Find the harbor. My gaze swept the town, dismissing homes and shops, hunting for the perimeter. It found the wooden docks jutting out into the vast, grey sea, and my entire focus snapped to them. The distant crash of waves against the pilings a sudden, hopeful rhythm in my ears.”

Mikaeus followed my gaze. “We have no boats, you know,” he said, his tone conversational.

The air left my lungs. “What?” I spun on him. “This is an island.”

He looked at me as if stating the obvious. “Yes. We ride dragons.”

A tremor began in my hand, and I fisted the rough fabric of my pants to hide it. A cage of crystal and seawater had just snapped shut around me. How do I get out? I couldn’t steal a dragon. I would rather die than mount one of those beasts. A desperate thought sparked. The battle yesterday… the wreckage. Something might have washed ashore. Hope was a stubborn weed.

“Can we visit the harbor?” I asked, forcing a casual curiosity into my voice.

His expression turned thoughtful. “Not today,” he said, his gaze firm but not unkind. “Today was about seeing this. With your own eyes.”

“I would still like to see it,” I insisted.

He sighed, a sound of weary patience. “Alanah. Not today.”

The finality in his tone was a wall. I immediately softened my own. Don’t push him. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking away as if embarrassed. “I was just curious. I’ve never seen the ocean up close before.” It wasn’t even a complete lie.

“Perhaps another time,” he offered. “For now, we should head back.”

“Already?” My gaze swept across the lively town square.

“This was only meant to be a short visit.” He paused, and his tone shifted, losing its authoritative edge. “And… I would like to invite you to my study.” It wasn’t a command. For the first time, it was a request. He watched me, waiting.

I met his eyes. “I will come to your study.”

A genuine smile transformed his face, erasing the lines of exhaustion and lighting his golden eyes from within. “Excellent.”

─────────────────◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯─────────────────

𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓼. 𝓐𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽!