Chapter 22
Seph
I woke in darkness.
Not pitch-black, but the dim, flickering kind shaped by a fire someone had built nearby. A thin strip of warmth touched my cheek. Beneath me, a blanket softened the stone, and beside my leg the cave wall pressed cold through the torn fabric of my skirt.
My whole body throbbed.
My tongue was dry. My hands—bare. I yanked the sleeves of my jumper over them in a panic. My gloves… gone. My chest tightened.
Who brought me here?
My eyes adjusted slowly.
A bottle of water. An apple, perfect and untouched. My jumper drying near the fire. Someone had washed the blood from my skin. Someone had decided I wasn’t going to die in the woods tonight.
I swallowed, the sound loud in the stillness.
“…Hello?” I whispered.
The cave answered with a low, rumbling exhale from the shadows.
My head snapped up.
There—far at the back—something moved.
Not small.
Not human.
A shape uncoiled, shifting like a mountain waking. A breath rolled through the cavern, hot and slow, stirring my hair.
Then—
A single eye opened.
Amber. Huge. Ancient.
Locked on me.
My whole body froze. My legs trembled, but I couldn’t make them back up. I could only stare as the creature stepped forward just enough for the firelight to catch the edges of its scales.
A dragon.
Real. Massive. Black as starlight. Its horns curved back like obsidian blades. Its wings folded close but still scraped the cave walls. Smoke curled faintly from its nostrils as it exhaled again—studying me.
I should have screamed.
I didn’t.
My heart was trying, but something in me… recognised him.
Not as a person.
As a presence.
As if something ancient inside me lifted its head in return.
Like he was a shadow I’d seen in dreams I wasn’t supposed to remember.
The dragon lowered his head. Not threatening—measured. Controlled. Like he knew I was hurt, like he knew one wrong move would shatter me.
There was something familiar about him — like a scent I had once breathed in completely.
My breath shook. “I know you.”
A deep rumble rolled through the cave. Not a growl—something softer. A sound that almost felt like an answer.
The dragon’s gaze flicked to my leg, where dried blood crusted the torn fabric.
Then he leaned forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Until the tip of his snout brushed the stone inches from my foot.
Testing.
Not attacking.
Instinctively, I reached out my hand.
I wrapped my jumper around my fist—tight, tight, like armour made of cotton.
I just… needed to know he was real.
That this wasn’t fever or memory or void-induced hallucination.
If I could touch him, I would know.
But my body betrayed me.
My hand froze.
I couldn’t make myself go closer.
Every instinct screamed danger.
Every fear whispered don’t touch, don’t you dare touch, you know what you can do—
I knew from records of old that dragons were predisposed to be far less susceptible to magic. Resistant. Grounded. Ancient.
But could I risk it?
He was just so beautiful.
And he was rare. True dragons – there were so few left now.
Too big, too powerful, too impossible to exist in the same space as me—and still, some part of me ached toward him.
Before I could move—
Before I could even decide—
He moved for me.
The massive head dipped, impossibly gentle, and his nose brushed the fabric-wrapped part of my hand.
A feather-light touch.
A huff of hot breath ghosted over my wrist.
And I didn’t kill him.
I didn’t hurt him.
The power stayed quiet, dormant, like it recognised him.
Like it knew better than I did that he wasn’t afraid.
Heat surged up my throat—relief so sharp it almost hurt.
He drew back slightly, watching me with that molten-gold eye, waiting to see if I’d panic or flee or break.
I didn’t.
I let out a shaking breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.
“You’re real,” I whispered.
His tail curled once across the cave floor—slow, controlled, like a silent acknowledgement.
And something in my chest—small, fragile, half-dead—stirred.
He wasn’t just real.
He’d chosen not to hurt me.
And somehow, impossibly—
He trusted me first.
“Did you—did you save me?” I asked out loud.
He watched me carefully with that ancient, molten gaze…
and nodded.
A real nod.
A dragon nodding.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For that. For everything. I… I appreciate it.”
The dragon tilted his head again, like he was studying every flutter of my breath. Then he lowered his huge head and huffed toward the apple in my hand.
I didn’t need him to speak to understand.
Eat.
I ran my fingers over the smooth skin of the apple and smiled—small, tired, grateful. It was the least I could do.
I took a bite.
It was sweet and cold and perfect.
Juice ran down my tongue, and only then did I realise how starved I was—how hollow my ribs felt, how weak my limbs were.
I eased myself down to the cave floor, cross-legged, leaning back against the stone wall. I grabbed my water with shaking fingers.
“It’s good,” I said softly.
The dragon huffed again, a low, satisfied rumble that warmed the air between us.
Almost… proud.
Like he’d chosen it for me himself.
I sank down onto what looked like a sheepskin rug. It was warm beneath my skin, softer than I expected. I pulled my sleeves tighter around my hands—but even wrapped in fabric, I could still see it.
Blood.
Dark under my nails.
Staining the cuffs.
Not mine.
My stomach rolled. A tremor ran through me before I could stop it—just a tiny shiver, but enough.
Because the dragon moved.
His tail—long, black, ridged with faint silver patterns—slid silently across the stone floor. I didn’t even hear it until it curled around me.
A slow, careful coil.
Not trapping.
Not claiming.
Protecting.
Warmth radiated from his scales, seeping into my frozen bones, melting the cold clinging to my skin.
I sucked in a breath.
Not fear.
Never fear.
Something else.
A feeling I hadn’t touched in years.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The dragon dipped his massive head in the barest gesture—almost like a nod.
He didn’t move closer, didn’t threaten, didn’t roar or posture. He simply sat there, enormous and ancient, watching me with that molten eye that reflected the firelight like gold poured into stone.
And for the first time since I fled into the woods—
since the monster,
since the blood,
since the darkness boiled inside me like poison—
I wasn’t shaking.
I wasn’t drowning.
I felt… safe.
And I didn’t understand why.
I lay back down on the rug, watching the fire. I could feel the dragon’s gaze on me. Warmth soothed my every core.
“I wonder if anyone is looking for me right now,” I said aloud.
The dragon huffed.
It almost sounded like a laugh. Like he was saying of course they are.
“You don’t know. Maybe when they do come, it will be to take me away. Lock me in Chaos Ward or something.”
Because I remembered clear as day.
Dev had seen me.
He watched me use my powers.
How long would it take for the Institute to hunt me down?
“Dr Marr’s going to come for me.” I swallowed. “He’s going to be mad.”
A light growl followed my claim.
“I did something .. bad. Fuck.” I ran my hands through my hair.
I threw my hands down in disgust. “Have you ever wished you could be literally anyone else?” I said aloud.
“Like anyone. Hell, I would pick some homeless street kid at this rate. No, instead I get to be… me. Persephone Quinn. The embarrassment of her family. The abomination. The hated one. And my parents? Paragons of virtue. Sitting up there on the Council next to Adele Lightwood and Cressida White, lording their perfection over us like we are – what? Less? Because of some stupid test.”
The dragon’s head tilted, slow and deliberate, like he was listening to every word.
I didn’t know why I was saying all this. Maybe it was something about him that felt safe. Like he could keep my secrets.
“I never would have caused a problem, you know. If they had just let me go. Let me be me. I would have gone and found a spot in the world that was mine, and I would have been so much happier. Everyone would have.”
The dragon shifted slowly—just a tiny adjustment of his massive body—but the ground hummed with it, like the cave itself reacted to him.
“You know the dumb thing though?” I whispered.
“This place. Darkmoor. I prefer it. I prefer these creepy halls and evil fucking doctors like Marr over my home. I would take the torture. I would do the tests. If it meant I never had to go home again and see the utter—disappointment on my father’s face. ”
My voice broke on the last word.
The dragon lowered his head.
Not toward me—
for me.
A slow, sombre bow.
Like he understood.
Like he was grieving with me.
Like he was saying: You deserved better.
The fire crackled softly.
The dragon’s tail stayed wrapped around me, warm and steady, like an instinctive shield.
I was working up the courage to speak again when—
a sound cut through the cave.
A voice.
Faint at first.
Muffled by the trees.
But unmistakable.
“Ash?” I breathed.
The dragon’s head snapped up.
His pupils narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring as he tasted the air.
Another shout, closer this time:
“SEPH!”
My heart leapt and dropped at the same time.
I scrambled upright. “I—I have to go.”
The dragon shifted, lowering his enormous head until it blocked the entrance — not threatening, just… hesitant. As if he didn’t want me to walk back into danger.
“I’ll be okay,” I whispered. “I think.”
He rumbled low in his chest, unconvinced.
Another call echoed through the woods. Dev’s this time. Rough. Desperate.
I took a breath I didn’t feel ready for.
“Thank you,” I told him quietly. “For saving me. And for… all of this.”
The dragon bowed his head.
A gesture of acknowledgment.
Or trust.
Or something older than either of those.
I stepped forward.
He shifted just enough to let me squeeze past him.
His scales brushed my sleeve—
just fabric to scale—
but it still felt like a promise.
I paused at the mouth of the cave and looked back once.
He watched me with that single, ancient eye.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I whispered. “I swear.”
His tail curled tighter around the fire, like he was guarding the space where I’d been.
Then I turned—
and ran toward the sound of Ash’s voice.