Chapter 2
RAVENA
I jolted awake at the sound of something crashing downstairs, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Instinct kicked in, and I sat up, scanning the dimly lit room.
The wind howled through the open window, rustling the tattered curtains, carrying in the scent of damp earth and pine.
I must have left the window open again. Unsurprisingly, I liked falling asleep to the rain, the steady rhythm against the roof lulling me into the few precious hours of rest I allowed myself. Two hours, maybe three if I was lucky.
Sleeping at night has never suited me. The sun was too harsh, too revealing.
My eyes were sensitive to the brightness, making everything feel exposed and raw.
Besides, daytime belonged to people who had the luxury of peace, who laughed easily and went about their days without looking over their shoulders.
I wasn’t one of them. I preferred the quiet of the night, where shadows stretched long, and the world felt like it belonged to me alone.
Another crash, louder this time, echoed through the cottage, jolting me into motion. I threw the covers off, the cold air biting into my bare legs and arms as I rushed to the door. My pulse quickened as I sprinted downstairs, feet barely making a sound against the worn wooden floor.
The sight that greeted me nearly had me turning back around.
The fireplace mantel was bare; every trinket and book was now scattered across the floor.
The curtains I’d used to block out the sunlight were ripped down, tangled around a thrashing black-silver scaled body.
The little dragon flailed, its long tail completely ensnared in the red fabric, knocking over a chair in its struggle.
I exhaled sharply, placing my hands on my hips. “What in the ever-loving hell are you trying to do, dragon?”
He froze at my voice, silver eyes snapping to mine. A low, frustrated huff escaped his nostrils, sending a small puff of smoke my way. I sighed, stepping forward to start untangling him, ignoring how his tail twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to trust or to smack me.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, or I'd be seriously reconsidering this whole ‘saving you’ thing.”
“I have a name.” His voice was smooth yet edged with impatience. I huffed, crossing my arms.
“Yeah? Well, until you tell me what it is, you’re just a dragon, or a pain in the ass. It’s your choice.” I shot him a look as I yanked the last of the tangled fabric free, rolling it into a ball before tossing it into the bin.
“It’s been a week,” I muttered, glancing back at him. “You’d think after saving your life, I’d at least get a damn name by now.”
“I’m hungry,” He flapped his wings, now fully healed, thanks to the salve I’d made from the herbs I gathered in the forest.
I sighed, rubbing my temple. “What exactly does a dragon eat?” I was met with silence.
I turned to find him watching me with those sharp silver eyes like mine, unblinking. Great, that’s a lot of help.
Shaking my head, I yanked open the cupboards, only to be greeted by empty shelves. Again.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
That meant another trip to the town tonight, a risk I wasn’t looking forward to. I glanced back at the dragon, who was still staring at me.
“Unless you eat dust and disappointment, we’re both out of luck.”
“I like mice.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Well, I don’t eat mice, dragon.”
He gave a low huff, shaking his head like I was the strange one here. Then, with an exaggerated flick of his tail, he sent another one of my books to the floor.
“Seriously?” I shot him a glare.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because I don’t have an answer,” I grumbled, bending down to scoop up the book.
“Do I look like someone who keeps a stash of fresh rodents lying around?”
He tilted his head. “You could.” I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.
“Great, now I have to add ‘mice hunting’ to my list of problems.” I dropped into one of the only chairs that wasn’t broken, the wood groaning under my weight. The dragon padded closer, his obsidian scales shimmering in the light through the torn curtains, shifting like a liquid shadow,
“I will tell you my name if you get me mice.”
I arched a brow, brushing a hand through my tangled hair, a mess of white strands, the ends tipped with red. It fell over my shoulders in wild waves, a constant reminder of who I was.
“Are you seriously bargaining with me right now?” His eyes gleamed with something dangerously close to amusement, and if dragons could smirk, he was doing it.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tapping against the wooden armrest. A week ago, dragons were extinct, nothing but a legend.
Yet here he was, standing in my living room, casually blackmailing me over rodents.
If any of the witches, especially the high coven, found out about him, he would be executed without hesitation.
Knowing them, I wouldn’t be far behind; at least we had that in common.
I leaned back, folding my arms. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”
“And yet, you haven’t kicked me out.” He had me there.
“Fine, tell me your name and I will catch your damn mice,” He chuffed and cocked his head to the side, then gently laid it on my knee.
“My name is Xarothar, and I am your familiar.”
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. No way.
The words echoed in my head, refusing to make sense.
Familiars weren’t meant to be dragons. Witches were forbidden from bonding them; they were too powerful and amplified our magic.
It was known to be rare for dragons to choose us because of this.
If anyone found out about him, about us, I’d be marked for execution.
I was already running from those who wanted me dead.
I couldn’t afford to add another to that list.
“You’re panicking,” Xarothar's voice echoed in my head. His tone was calm, almost amused, as his head rested on my knee.
I blinked rapidly, trying to collect myself. “Well, duh. Do you have any idea how much trouble this could cause? The high coven…”
He interrupted me with a heavy sigh, “Of course I do. But aren’t you already running? Hiding? You’re more than what you seem, you already know that.”
The weight of his words pressed into me, and I shifted uncomfortably.
He was right, I was already on the run, living in the shadows, trying to find a way to unlock my magic.
But a dragon as my familiar? That was a whole new level of danger.
What if the power inside me was too much to control?
A dragon amplifies a witch’s magic; that’s why they stopped bonding with us all those years ago, before they were wiped out.
Xarothar let out a low growl as if he was sensing my hesitation and raised his head to meet my gaze.
“Panicking isn’t going to change it.”
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves. “I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to protect us both. For so long it’s just been me, and I’ve done a damn good job myself so far, but now I have you.”.
He blinked slowly as if considering my words carefully. “You don’t have to be ready. We just have to survive together.”
I stood up, my legs stiff from sitting too long, and slowly made my way over to the stairs. The wooden steps creaked under my weight as I paused halfway, turning back to face Xarothar. He lay on the floor as he stared at me, slowly blinking and his tail twitching.
“I’ve survived for twenty-three years, seven of them by myself,” I said, my voice rough, the words tasting bitter as they left my lips. “That’s all I know. Surviving is all I know.”
The last part came out quietly, almost like a confession I wasn’t ready to share. Xarothar didn’t say anything at first. His gaze remained steady; his head slightly tilted as if considering my words.
I let out a short, dry laugh; however, no humour existed. It felt empty, as if it were just a noise to fill the silence.
“It’s getting tiring, you know? Being alone, not knowing what it’s like to have fun, to be safe, or even to be loved. What kind of life is that?”
“You’re a survivor, that’s why I chose you.” His voice was calm but firm, “I want to help you be free.”
I bit my lip, feeling the familiar heaviness that came with his words.
Could I ever be free? I didn’t think so.
My mother couldn’t save me after everything we’d been through.
We spent the first sixteen years of my life on the run together, always looking over our shoulders, never knowing when the next threat would find us. And now… it was just me.
“Not anymore.” He interrupted my thoughts, his tone sharper now. I noticed how his head turned suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he stared toward the kitchen window, his body tensing.
“Somebody is here.” His voice was low, laced with urgency.
A chill ran down my spine, the weight of his words settling in my chest like lead.
I didn’t need to ask who it could be. The fact that he was alert meant trouble was already here.
I darted across the room to the hidden corner of the living room, my heart racing as I clicked my fingers, activating a secret compartment on the floor.
A faint shimmer ran across the wooden boards as they split, revealing my dagger.
I grab hold of it, the deep purple blade glowing faintly, silver stars etched through the middle of the blade all the way to the tip of the handle.
The magic infused in the dagger was powerful beyond anything else.
I could feel it whenever I touched it. One stab, and it would drain the life out of my enemy in an instant.
The weight felt familiar and comforting in my hand as I turned towards Xarothar.
“Go upstairs to my room,” I ordered, my voice steady despite the growing tension. “It’s warded, no one can see or sense you in there. Stay hidden, and don’t make a sound. I’ll be back.”