Chapter 16
Ember
I sit in the small room, concrete walls pressing in from every side. The metal chair digs into my spine. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzz and flicker, casting everything in a harsh white glare that makes my eyes burn.
Hours. It’s been hours since they brought me here.
The cuffs around my wrists hum with that sickening blue light, suppressing everything inside me. Every time I reach for my fire, I find nothing. Just hollow silence where magic should be.
I should have grown used to it by now, after days of being human, but instinct keeps fighting it. Especially after what happened back there, when my magic came back for an instant. What was that? A flash of emotion? Or something else?
I can’t think about it clearly. Can’t think about anything.
My body aches. The fight in the cave. The rough transport. These restraints cutting into my skin. But the physical pain is nothing compared to not knowing.
Where’s Luke? Is he alive?
I test the cuffs again, carefully, trying not to draw attention from whoever’s watching through the cameras I can feel trained on me. The metal doesn’t budge. The suppression field pulses stronger, like it’s punishing me for trying.
Through the door, I hear boots on concrete. Voices, low and controlled.
They’re coming back.
The door opens without warning. Two men enter, and I recognize the first one immediately—the commander from the caves.
Military gear still in place, that same controlled arrogance radiating from him.
Behind him walks someone new. Older, wearing a civilian suit beneath a heavy coat.
Sharp eyes that take in every detail of my slumped posture, my torn clothes, the way my hands shake in the cuffs.
Authority rolls off him in waves that have nothing to do with rank insignia. He’s dragon… and ancient.
Neither speaks at first. They just study me. A specimen under glass.
The older man settles into the chair across from mine with deliberate slowness, like he has all the time in the world.
“You’ve been quite the puzzle.” His voice is cultured, almost pleasant. “Aurora operative. Untrained. Young. Yet you survived two days in hostile territory with limited supplies.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “Impressive. Or suspicious.”
I keep my expression neutral. Don’t give them anything.
“Let’s start simple.” He leans back, perfectly relaxed. “Name.”
“You already know my name.”
“Humor me.”
The silence draws out. I count my heartbeats—five, ten, fifteen—before I answer. “Ember.”
“Ember what?”
My teeth grind. Habit wars with defiance, and defiance wins. “Just Ember.”
The commander shifts his weight, impatient. “Aurora Collective operative. Recent recruit. Clearly no prior combat experience.” His tone sharpens like a blade. “So, what were you doing in the Carpathians with a centuries-old dragon?”
I lift my chin, meeting his stare. “Aurora sent us. Cleanup detail after your people tried to wake something they shouldn’t have.”
The senior officer doesn’t react to the jab. Just watches me with those calculating eyes. “Cleanup detail doesn’t explain the fire.”
My stomach sinks.
Dammit! Why did I let them see that?
“What fire?” I keep my voice steady.
“The burst of flame that erupted from your hands when my men restrained you in the caves.” His gaze never wavers. “Wild. Uncontrolled. Not dragon flame.”
Think. I need to think. “You’re mistaken. Stress does strange things in confined spaces. Maybe your men saw what they wanted to see.”
The commander steps closer, menace in every line of his body. “We know what we saw.”
The senior officer raises one hand, stopping the commander’s advance.
“Let me be clear.” His patience is thinning now; I can hear it in his voice. “We have ways of extracting truth.”
He gestures. The commander produces a small device. Metal and wires, energy crackling faintly across its surface. A taser. Obviously I know about them. Never thought I’d be this close to one.
“I’d prefer cooperation,” the senior officer continues, almost conversational. “But I’m not opposed to persuasion.”
Terror floods my veins, but I hold his gaze.
Don’t let them see you break.
“Do what you want. I don’t have anything to tell you.”
The commander moves the device toward my arm. Sparks crackle.
Everything inside me rebels. Terror and rage surge together; instinctive, primal. My dragon claws at the suppression, desperate to protect me. I jerk back, but there’s nowhere to go. The chair’s bolted to the floor.
He touches the device to my skin, and pain explodes through me. I can’t help myself; I scream. And then, despite the cuffs and the strange suppression from whatever is in this damn mountain, my dragon takes over.
Heat floods my veins. My vision blurs gold at the edges.
Then scales glitter across my forearms.
Platinum-silver. Iridescent. Beautiful. And damning.
They ripple up to my elbows before the cuffs flare brighter. Within an instant, the scales stop spreading, halted by the cuffs.
Both men freeze.
The scales fade, leaving only pale skin and the faint afterglow of suppressed power.
But it’s too late. They saw.
The senior officer rises slowly, never taking his eyes off my arms. He circles my chair, studying me from every angle like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“Dragon manifestation. Partial shift.” His voice is quiet, clinical. “But you accessed it despite cuffs calibrated for full suppression.”
The commander’s confusion bleeds through: “How is that possible? The dampeners should—”
“Unless she’s not just witch.” The senior officer stops in front of me, understanding dawning in his expression.
“The fire in the caves wasn’t imagination. It was witch-fire.” He tilts his head, pieces falling into place. His lip curls. “Dragon scales. Witch flame. Hybrid.”
I can’t hide my reaction fast enough. Can’t stop the way my breath catches, the way my eyes widen just a fraction.
His smile is cold triumph. “There it is.”
He starts pacing, thinking aloud. “Hybrids are… an abomination. The bloodlines shouldn’t mix.” A pause. “And when they do, the parents go to extraordinary lengths to hide the children.”
I say nothing. There’s nothing I can say that won’t make this worse.
“Platinum scales.” His eyes narrow. “That coloring is distinctive. Rare. The Arrowvane line produces platinum dragons.”
Another beat. “And you’re young. Early twenties at most.”
The commander catches on, excitement bleeding into his voice: “The defection. When the Shadowhand defected to the Aurora Collective—”
“She took her daughter with her,” the senior officer finishes. “A daughter born years before, kept secret from the Ivory League.”
He leans close now, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Vanya Arrowvane didn’t just betray the Syndicate. She protected you.” A pause that feels like falling. “Her forbidden child.”
My throat closes. I can’t speak. Can’t deny. Can’t do anything but sit here while they dissect my entire life.
“The Shadowhand had a lover,” he continues, almost conversational. “Someone outside her bloodline, her race. Someone with Rossewyn heritage.”
The commander’s realization comes fast: “Hargen Cole. The Rossewyn male.”
The senior officer nods, satisfaction radiating from him. “Dragon mother. Rossewyn-descended father. Hidden for twenty-one years.”
The commander starts to laugh. “Ember fucking Arrowvane.”
“Elder Vex is going to want a reunion with you, pretty freak.”
My breath catches. The last time I saw the man, he was crawling through flames I’d just unleashed at him. I doubt I’m going to receive a warm welcome.
His smile widens. “The Ivory League has been hunting hybrids. Purification Protocol. And you…” He gestures at me like I’m a prize. “You’re practically their queen.”
Ice floods my system. Every nightmare my mother warned me about, every reason she kept me hidden. It’s all coming true.
They’ll display me. Torture me. Execute me. Proof that hybrids must be purged.
But I don’t let them see my fear. I lean back in the chair, forcing mockery into my tone.
“Congratulations. You figured out I have complicated parents. Want a medal?” I meet his eyes directly. “My mother will burn this facility to the ground for touching me.”
His cold smile doesn’t waver. “Your mother is a fugitive with a price on her head. She has no power here.”
My composure cracks. “Where’s Luke?”
The commander answers dismissively: “The dragon is in holding. For now.”
“What does that mean?”
The senior officer’s tone is matter-of-fact, clinical: “It means he’s served his purpose. Once we’ve confirmed your transfer to headquarters, he’ll be disposed of.”
A pause that crushes my chest. “We have no use for yet another rogue dragon. Execution is scheduled for dawn.”
The words send me reeling. Not interrogation. Not leverage.
Execution.
Luke—who saved me, protected me, fought for me—will die at dawn and I can’t do a damned thing to help him.
“You can’t—” My voice cracks.
“We can. And we will.” The senior officer straightens, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. “You, however, will be transported to Syndicate headquarters within the hour. The Ivory League will be eager to meet you.”
The commander adds, almost pleased: “Your mother caused a lot of trouble for the Syndicate. I imagine she’ll be interested to know that we have you.”
Then they’re gone. The door slams shut with a finality that echoes in my bones.
Guards outside. I hear their boots, their low voices. The cuffs hum louder, suppression tightening like a vise around whatever power remains.
I slump in the chair, every muscle shaking. My mind races, trying to find an angle, a plan, anything.
They know what I am. They’re going to kill Luke. And I’m being handed to the people who want hybrids extinct.
I’ve hidden my whole life. Stayed small. Stayed quiet. Let my mother protect me because I didn’t know how to protect myself.
But if I don’t fight now, we’re both dead.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe through the panic. I reach inward past the suppression field, searching for any thread of magic, any crack in the dampening.
For a moment, nothing. Just hollow silence.
Then—faint, distant—I feel it.
The pulse.
That steady heartbeat from the caves, the rhythm that’s followed us through stone and darkness. It’s stronger now. Closer. Not just background noise but something responding to my desperation.
The mountain isn’t just alive.
It’s listening.
Oh God, can it hear me?
I don’t know what you are. But if you’re going to wake up, now would be a really good time.
The pulse answers; one slow, thunderous beat that I feel in my bones, in my blood, in the concrete beneath my feet.
And somewhere deep below the facility, something ancient and vast begins to stir.