Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
NYXARA
T he scent of charred wood and blood clings to the air, thick as the rage simmering in my veins. Varellith groans beneath my boots, the land’s magic thrumming weakly in response to the devastation the humans have wrought. The once-verdant forest—ancient and untouchable—now bears the scars of their fire and steel. Blackened stumps stand where towering trees once whispered with the wind. The soil is scorched, stripped of its life, the creatures I swore to protect driven deeper into the shadows, terrified and displaced.
The king did this.
He dares to take what is not his. To burn, to pillage, to claim dominion over a land that does not belong to him. A land that belongs to me.
I press my palm to the wounded earth, magic coiling in my veins. A faint green glow flickers at my fingertips as I channel energy into the ground, trying to soothe the land’s suffering. The forest’s magic stirs sluggishly, like a wounded beast reluctant to rise. It will take time to heal, time I no longer have.
A rustling sound draws my attention, the whisper of brittle leaves against scorched earth. From the remnants of a once-mighty oak, a dryad emerges—barely holding together.
Her form is fragile, her bark-like skin cracked and splintered, the deep brown of her body charred in places where the fire touched her. Golden sap seeps from the wounds like blood, dripping sluggishly to the ground. Her hair, once a cascade of emerald leaves, hangs in brittle, burned strands. Her limbs creak as she steps forward, her glowing amber eyes dull with pain.
" They are pushing deeper ," she rasps, her voice as brittle as wind through dead branches. " More soldiers. More machines. More fire."
A growl rumbles in my chest, low and dark. The humans grow bolder. They break the ancient treaties as if they were nothing more than forgotten words on parchment. My hands clench into fists, my claws digging into my palms.
"How many?" I demand.
The dryad sways slightly, barely holding herself upright. "Too many." A pause. "And they do not fear the magic of this land as they once did. They carry weapons that bite through the roots, machines that tear through the trees. They carve roads into the forest, not caring what they destroy in the process."
My rage simmers hotter.
They are claiming the land as if it belongs to them. As if they have already won.
"They seek to take what is mine," I murmur, voice cold as the wind that moves through the blackened trees.
The dryad nods weakly. "The king… he marches with purpose. He seeks something beyond conquest. There is intent behind his war. A hunger for more than land."
The realization slams into me like a sudden storm.
Vaela.
The king never intended to simply pillage and burn pieces of my forest. No, he means to destroy it all. To tear every root from the earth, to wipe out every creature that calls this land home, to reduce Varellith to nothing but smoldering ash and lifeless ruin. But he cannot do it alone. No mortal—king or not—would stand a chance against me. Not without power. Power he could gain from the Sea Witch.
My lips curl in a slow, wicked smile.
But now, I have her. And just as he sought to use her to take my realm, I will use her to destroy him and his army before they ever touch what is mine again.
"Go back to the others," I command the dryad, my voice like iron. "Tell them to retreat into the deeper groves. Tell them I will handle the humans."
The dryad hesitates. "And if they come again?"
I lift my gaze toward the distant horizon where the smoke of burning wood still lingers.
"Then we will bury them in the roots of this land."
She bows her head—with what little strength she has left—and fades back into the remains of her dying tree.
I rise, the folds of my black cloak swirling around me. Vaela is the missing piece in this game. She is the key to all of it. With one last glance at the ruins of my forest, I turn and step into the shadows. The magic bends around me, pulling me through the dense wilds at unnatural speed. It carries me straight to my castle. And straight to my prisoner.
To my weapon.
The heavy iron door swings open with a slow, deliberate creak.
Vaela doesn’t flinch.
She lounges on the stone bench near the far wall, far too comfortable for a prisoner, her legs crossed, her pearlescent hair cascading over her bare shoulders. The dim torchlight flickers across the glistening pearls encrusted in her bodice, each one pulsing faintly with the remnants of the unfortunate souls she has claimed.
She lifts her gaze slowly, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.
Mocking.
“You’re back so soon?” she muses, tilting her head. “Miss me already?”
My fingers twitch at my sides, nails sharpening into claws before I will them still.
"You think yourself amusing," I murmur, stalking closer.
She hums as if considering. “Not think , Dragon Queen. Know .”
I stop just short of her, towering over her smaller frame. Her icy white-blue eyes gleam with mischief, cool and assessing. I see the way she watches me—calculating. She’s testing me, just as I’m testing her.
"Enough of your games, little siren," I say, voice low and edged with warning. "Now that we have established that the king wants your power, you are going to give it to me instead."
Vaela doesn’t flinch, but the slight flicker of interest in her gaze tells me she’s waiting to see what I will do next.
"We know he needs your power to take my lands," I continue, stepping even closer. "To burn Varellith to ash, to wipe my kind from existence. But now I have you, and you, Sea Witch, will give me the power I need to ensure that doesn’t happen."
Her lips part slightly, a whisper of laughter escaping as she leans back against the cold stone wall. "Will I?"
I narrow my eyes. "Yes. You will."
She drags her fingers along the smooth pearls at her bodice, her nails grazing the largest one near her collarbone. "And what, exactly, do I gain from this arrangement?"
"You gain the luxury of keeping your life," I say, voice smooth as silk, yet laced with warning.
Vaela clicks her tongue in mock disappointment. "Now, now, Nyxara. I thought you’d know better than to try and threaten me into a bargain. That’s not how this works."
I grip the edge of the bench beside her, claws digging into the stone, leaning in until our faces are a breath apart.
"You will give me what I ask, Vaela. Or I will take it from you."
She exhales, slow, unbothered. "Oh, you could try , Dragon Queen. But magic like mine is given… never taken. "
She lifts a delicate hand, one finger tracing lightly up the inside of my wrist. A teasing touch. A taunt.
I don’t move. I don’t flinch. But the air between us crackles, thick with tension. I hate the way she looks at me. Like she already knows the outcome of this exchange. Like she’s already won.
"You're bold," I murmur, my voice dangerously smooth.
"And you're impatient," she counters, her voice a dark caress. "If you truly want my power, Nyxara, you know what must be done."
I glare down at her, knowing exactly what she wants to hear.
She wants the bargain. A real one. The kind that binds us both. I want to deny her. To rip the words from her lips before she ever has the chance to speak them. But I cannot afford my pride. Not when my kingdom is at stake. Not when the humans are closing in. I need her power.
"Fine." The single word falls like a blade between us.
Vaela’s smirk deepens. She knew I would say it.
She shifts, leaning in, her breath warm against my lips. “Say it properly, Dragon Queen.”
The heat curling low in my stomach is anger, I tell myself. Nothing more. My claws tighten against the bench, stone dust crumbling beneath my grip.
"Vaela of the Abyss," I growl, my voice dark with unspoken fury, "give me the power to destroy the king. To protect my lands. To crush my enemies beneath my feet."
Her lashes lower, half-lidded, predatory.
"And what will you give me in return?" she whispers, her voice like a slow tide pulling me under.
The words I should speak are simple. A debt to be paid. A price to be named. But I am not a fool. I can make this bargain. I can take her power, use it to end this war.
And then?
Then I will keep her here. Hold her prisoner until the end of time if I must. Then I will never have to pay.
"Name your price," I say instead, voice cool, unreadable.
Vaela’s smirk widens, wicked and knowing. The air between us shifts, magic thickening, the deal settling into place like a second heartbeat. She lifts her hand, pressing two fingers against my chest, right over my heart.
"You," she murmurs.
A spark ignites beneath my skin.
I keep my expression blank. "Elaborate."
Her nails trail downward, slow and deliberate. "I don’t just give my magic away, Dragon Queen. You will be bound to me as much as I am to you."
Something dark and twisting curls inside me. She is trying to trap me. But she underestimates who she is dealing with.
I let my lips curve into a slow, wicked smirk. “Then do it, little siren. Bind us.”
I lean in, closing the space between us until our breaths tangle—hers, slightly uneven, mine controlled. Her scent is salt and shadow, dark and intoxicating. I watch the flicker of challenge in her icy-blue eyes, the way she waits, expecting me to hesitate.
I don’t.
“But know this,” I murmur, my voice dipping into something low and lethal. "Even after I have what I need, you will never be free of me."
A sharp gleam flares behind her smirk—not fear, but something darker, something eager.
"Careful, Dragon Queen," she purrs, tilting her chin up in defiance. "That almost sounds like a promise."
I let my claws trail along her jaw, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she stills beneath my touch.
"It is."
The magic settles between us, thick and oppressive, wrapping around our bodies like an unseen tide. It pulses, ancient and hungry, demanding to be sealed.
Vaela exhales, slow and satisfied, as if she had already won.
She hasn’t.
A sudden surge of power crackles between us, and a contract appears.
The parchment is not made of ink and paper—it is woven from the very magic that binds our deal. The words glow an eerie silver, shifting like liquid across the dark surface, written in a language older than kingdoms, older than the sea itself.
Vaela lifts a delicate hand, tracing the glowing letters with her fingertip. Her magic lingers in the air, coaxing, waiting. “Sign it, Dragon Queen,” she murmurs, her voice a dark, velvety command. “Or are you afraid of what happens when you’re bound to me?”
I huff a low, mocking laugh, reaching for the dagger at my hip. "I fear nothing, siren."
With one smooth motion, I press the tip of the blade to my palm and drag it across my skin. Green fire seeps from the wound instead of blood, the raw essence of my magic pooling at the surface. Vaela watches, enraptured, her breath catching just slightly.
I press my palm to the contract.
The moment my skin meets the swirling magic, it surges to life, wrapping around my wrist, climbing up my arm in glowing silver script before vanishing into my skin—a brand, a mark, a binding.
The magic seals itself into my bones. The contract burns bright, then fades into nothing, absorbed into the very air around us.
It is done.
The deal is struck. I step back, dragging my eyes over Vaela’s smirking lips, the way she tilts her chin, victorious. Let her think this bargain will end when the king is nothing but a pile of bones beneath my feet. Let her believe that I will honor my side of this agreement.
She is mine now.
And I have no intention of ever letting her go.
I wave a hand, magic curling around my fingertips, and the heavy chamber door creaks open.
Morrin sweeps in, his onyx wings flaring slightly as he lands, a woven basket clutched in his talons. Inside, fresh fruit glistens like scattered gems, alongside a jug of water, the finest I allow within my walls.
Vaela lifts a brow. “Generous.”
I smirk, stepping past her, my cloak brushing against her bare shoulder as I go.
"I won’t have you dying before you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal, little siren."
Her gaze follows me, sharp and unreadable.
I stop at the door, glancing over my shoulder, my voice a whisper of fire against her skin.
"Rest well. You will need your strength."
Then, without another word, I leave her to the silence of my castle.
I stride through the dimly lit corridors of Varethorne, my boots striking against the ancient stone, the sound swallowed by the vast, empty halls. Shadows coil in the corners, creeping along the towering obsidian walls, shifting in time with the flickering sconces that barely keep the darkness at bay.
This castle has stood for centuries, carved from the very bones of the mountain it rests upon, its black stone infused with old magic. The vaulted ceilings stretch impossibly high, adorned with jagged iron chandeliers dripping with candlelight. Gothic arches frame the long hallways, their twisted designs resembling ribs, like the castle itself is a slumbering beast.
And the Sentinels guard its heart.
They stand in the periphery of my vision, silent as death, cloaked in the very shadows that birthed them. Their presence is felt rather than seen, their movements like a whisper of wind through the corridors. The faint glint of steel beneath their dark hoods is the only indication they are real—watching, waiting, always vigilant.
One steps from the darkness as I pass, inclining his head in a subtle, measured movement, his violet eyes glowing faintly beneath the heavy fabric of his hood. Another lingers at the next archway, standing motionless, a living shade carved from the void.
They do not speak.
They do not need to.
They are bound to this place, tethered to the castle’s magic as much as I am to its throne.
And they are waiting for my command.
Varethorne is not a place of warmth. It never has been.
It is a fortress. A throne of fire and shadow.
And it is mine.
I move swiftly, weaving through its winding corridors, past heavy iron doors that guard rooms filled with ancient tomes, enchanted artifacts, and things no one else should ever awaken.
It is too quiet.
Even the air is thick with magic, heavy with the lingering weight of the bargain I just struck.
Morrin lands beside me with a whisper of wings.
"Stay with her," I say, my voice cold, commanding. "Watch her. Do not let her slip through the cracks of this castle."
He ruffles his wings, his glowing amber eyes narrowing. "You think she will try to escape?"
I smirk, but it is humorless. "She wouldn’t be the sea witch if she didn’t."
Morrin tilts his head, considering, then dips into a low bow of compliance. "As you wish, my queen."
He disappears into the darkness, a shadow among shadows, and I continue forward. Varethorne feels heavier tonight. Maybe it’s the weight of my own thoughts. Maybe it’s the ghost of what this place once was. I reach the grand staircase leading to my private chambers, my fingers trailing the cold iron railing as I ascend. The moment my boots hit the next step, a flash of memory grips me like a phantom hand on my throat.
The torches burn brighter—not with fire, but with Viridian Wrath, my mother’s magic licking at the sconces, casting green light down the hall.
Laughter echoes from the throne room, deep, rich, and full of life. My father’s voice. Steady, unshaken.
"They think themselves bold," he muses, standing at the head of the long black-marble table, his arms crossed, his crown tilting slightly from his dark curls. "The humans always do." I was young then. Still learning, still watching. My mother stood beside him, her emerald eyes gleaming with something unreadable. Power incarnate.
"What should we do with them, my love?" she asked, tracing a clawed finger down the length of his arm. My father smirked. The same smirk I wear now.
"Burn them," he said.
The memory fractures.
Flames. Screams. The scent of blood.
The heavy weight of the crown placed upon my head. Varethorne silent beneath my reign. I shake the memory loose. That was another life. Another time.
I do not dwell on ghosts.
I push open the doors to my private chambers, stepping into the vast room beyond. Dark, towering bookshelves line the walls, filled with tomes as ancient as the castle itself. A massive fireplace dominates the far wall, green flames curling and twisting unnaturally, casting eerie light across the black-stone floors. The air carries the scent of burning cedar, dragon smoke, and old parchment.
A four-poster bed sits near the arched window, draped in deep emerald silks, the fabric shifting with an unseen breeze. The bed is vast, too large for one person—but I have never let anyone occupy the space beside me.
Above me, an intricate chandelier of wrought iron and dark crystal hangs like a suspended cage, the dim candlelight barely reaching the vaulted ceiling.
I shrug off my cloak, letting it pool at my feet, my shoulders rolling as the tension coiled in my muscles begins to unwind.
But my thoughts do not settle. I step onto the balcony, throwing open the towering glass doors. The wind rushes past, carrying the scent of rain, of earth, of war. My home still stands, but for how much longer?
The king’s war is pathetic now—a desperate man grasping at an unwinnable fight.
But I do not expect him to surrender.
No.
He will come for her.
He will come for the power he so desperately craves.
Power that now belongs to me.
Magic churns in my blood, searing through me as I let go of my human form.
My bones shift, stretching and breaking, twisting into something far larger, far deadlier.
Black scales ripple over my flesh, spreading like liquid obsidian. My hands twist into talons, my wings unfurl, vast and endless, their leathery expanse catching the night air. My tail lashes against the stone, sending shattered debris tumbling into the abyss below.
The change is effortless. It always has been. I exhale, and a burst of Viridian Wrath—green fire that burns hotter than any earthly flame—spills from my maw, curling into the night. The sky welcomes me as I launch into the air, my wings slicing through the darkness. From above, the world looks small. The castle, the forests, the borders where human filth dares trespass. And somewhere beneath it all, in the heart of my keep, a little siren waits.
Unchained.
But never free.
I smirk, banking hard to the right, the roar of my wings shaking the sky. She thinks I will pay her price. That she has power over me. That she can win.
But she forgets…
I always win in the end.